#he’s directly responsible for all of her trauma

[mimomentomori]

Thoughts/Theories for Arcane Season 2 Act 2: Jayvik centered

Potential spoilers so read under the cut if you've watched Act 1!

To recap, at the end of Act 1 we see Jayce, Heimer and Ekko all get messed around with by the Wild Rune, causing anything linked to the Arcane to glitch out and malfunction. Based on the visuals and what we know about the characters it's likely those three will be scattered across time and space to different degrees;

Ekko will be gone long enough to be considered dead by the Firelights but return with his time powers to deal with the final confrontation with Noxus.

Heimer may be tossed back in time to confront his past trauma and be key in getting he and Ekko back to their correct time.

Jayce... He's gonna have the hardest time. He attacked the Wild Rune with the hammer which caused a massive reaction, so as a result he may be the one separated and lost in the Arcane dimension the longest. Based on the new Arcane Survivor Skin preview and the sneak peaks we got in both the newest teaser for Act 2, he'll most likely be stuck in this dimension for an undetermined amount of time, enough that it will affect his hammer directly and fuse the arcane shard in his cuff to his skin. The question is, how does he get out?

I think Viktor will be the key to his escape. Viktor, as we saw in his last scene in Act 1, is now inherently connected to the Arcane and by extension the Void given that he was fused with the Shimmer-tainted Hexcore. His continued use of the Arcane to heal his new followers will continue to destabilise the barrier between the realm of the Arcane and the material plane, but it could also potentially save Jayce.

If we're sticking with the Jesus/religious leader angle, Viktor was already shown to be having visions since he first coughed blood down into the matrix leading to the Hexcore's creation. After being fused with the Hexcore and by extension granted direct connection to the Arcane, he's been shown to be guided by 'Sky,' or at least a memory/fraction of her that now currently exists within the Hexcore and the Arcane.

My theory is, the more he settles into his new role and newfound connection to the Arcane, I think he'll start having visions of Jayce in the Arcane dimension and endeavour to get him out. While 'affection kept them together,' I think it's more than that now. They built hextech and the gates together, and with Jayce now directly affected and trapped by the Arcane they have a mystic connection to each other through the Hexcore. Despite their abrupt and bitter parting, I think seeing the main object of his affection trapped in such a state and clearly not yet fused to it like Sky is, he'll extend his power to get Jayce out.

Inevitably, this would lead to a potential clash/confrontation over both men's involvement of destabilising the Arcane in Zaun and Piltover... But I think in the end they will always do what they feel is right to save eachother.

I also want to add real quick that Ekko's criticism of how the Hexgates were built to send all runoff and potential fall out to the Undercity is valid and a gross oversight on Jayce's part, Viktor being from the Underground would have had to have a say in its design too so he will have possibly overlooked or felt confident this detail would be unlikely as well. Jayce and Viktor were partners on the project despite Jayce being the face of it; i.e. they're both responsible for what happened with the corruption and the Wild Rune.

With time being a key theme being shown in both the opening credits and how Ekko operates, it's looking like the theory that Viktor is the mage that saves young Jayve and Zimmena may be more likely than we think. But at the same time, even though we see in Viktor's new poster that he is able to thrive for some time, the plants that they experimented in did eventually wither and this may be a problem for Viktor as the next two acts progress.

Whether this means Viktor accepts or defies this rot to be in line with League Lore... I'm putting my faith in the writers on that one.

Let me know your thoughts!

[wander-wren]

i’ve never seen a darkling stan talk about genya. i’m just saying

[please-picturemeintheweeds]

Re: the end of your Joever/renegade post, it’s almost like wondering at what point does the “rough patch” cease to be a rough patch and just how the person *is*. As in, this is just how they choose to exist or are most comfortable living as a person.

(Not villainizing him at all, it’s just alluding to what you and others said… at some point it stops being a single issue or issues to fix and starts revealing itself to just be fundamental differences in compatibility and outlook.)

Just got this and I know it was sent pre-TTPD tracklist, but yeah!! Like it makes so much sense to me that a relationship would take over a year to go from Renegade to YLM and then another year to reach breaking up for good. That honestly feels like the most normal progression in the world, and I’m sooo interested to hear how she describes this experience and gives voice to something that I think a lot of people have been through.

I’ve talked about it on here before but my current relationship is 6 years old, and Renegade literally sparked some very VERY serious conversations for us when it came out because it gave voice to things we were dealing with and we were able to address using the language she offered us in the song. That was a definite “rough patch.” We nearly broke up, and had a real epiphany about things that we both needed to change in order to continue, and the types of support we both needed in order to stay safe and healthy. I felt so seen by Renegade and then in midnights as well- labyrinth and The Great War come to mind - the decision to stick it out. When I heard about joever it hit me (and others, from what I’ve heard!) suuuuper hard because it was like wait. Whatever measures they took after Renegade and the Great War actually didn’t fix it; what does that mean for me!? I was soo shaken up because of how strongly I related to the struggle (as it was portrayed to us). But that gets to the point of this ask: the difference between a rough patch and something un-fixable. I’m certain this will come up on TTPD, and it’ll be a deep portal time travel exploration of how she came to that exact conclusion. I can’t wait.

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

This house is so fucking gloomy and depressing. All the time. It’s oppressive. Religious doctrine looms over it like a vengeful spirit exacting punishment on an innocent family who recently moved in; except, we’ve been like this since before I was born.

[blueprint-han]

did i make a mistake?

[tobiasdrake]

*deep breath* Okay. Here we go.

I don't think the Netflix Avatar show likes women very much. It's a great show for fans of Aang, Sokka, Zuko, and Iroh specifically. All four of those characters get a ton of great material. In fact, it's super great for Sokka stans, because the show takes him ultra-seriously and can't go five minutes without one character or another (usually a woman) praising him.

But the way it handles its female cast is troublesome.

Katara

So, all three of the main trio got some changes made to their stories. They changed Aang's story so that he wasn't running away from his responsibilities; He was just clearing his head and somehow accidentallied himself into a tsunami. Whoopsy-dooodle. Aang did nothing wrong.

They changed Sokka's story so that him being a leader of his people and a great guardian warrior is treated with complete seriousness. Multiple times, characters stop to talk about how brave and noble Sokka is for taking on such an intense responsibility, and tell him to his face what a great warrior and a wonderful leader he is. Also his misogyny is erased.

And they changed Katara's story so that she directly got her mom killed because she sucks at waterbending.

Katara tries to waterbend to attack the Fire Nation soldier but couldn't manage it, provoking the soldier to start actively searching for her and forcing her mom to fake a waterbending attack and draw his fire. They changed Katara's story so that her bad decision making fucking got her mom killed.

This is treated with the same level of severity as "Sokka was bullied by mean kids and also his dad doesn't think he's good enough to be a leader."

"I hoped Sokka would do better but not everyone is meant to have people's lives in their hands," Sokka's dad says of him.

Yeah, you're right, that's totally comparable to watching your mom get barbecued because you tried to waterbend in a situation you shouldn't have and then failed.

In fact, they give Sokka's greatest trauma more weight because it gets examined again with Yue next episode, while Katara actively getting her mom killed isn't brought up again at all. We get traumatized glimpses of it throughout the season leading up to the reveal, but after this scene in episode 5, it never comes up again.

But to be fair, Katara was a child. An event this significant would surely have motivated her, driving her to become the great waterbender she is now, right?

No! Katara sucks at waterbending and needs men who aren't even waterbenders to teach her how to waterbend. She requires instruction from Aang in episode 1 to learn how to waterbend, then from Jet in episode 3 to learn how to waterbend better.

And unlike the show, her relationship with Aang isn't a give-and-take; Katara doesn't teach Aang a single goddamn thing. He never learns to waterbend. She is a strictly a pupil throughout the whole season. Though she at least gets officially labeled a master in episode 8, so there's that.

In any case, the whole traumatic memory thing isn't even the only time she's directly compared with Sokka. Episodes 3 and 4 see Katara and Sokka bicker over whose morally dubious side character is better. Sokka likes the Mechanist and Katara likes Jet.

Ultimately, Katara is forced to eat crow when Jet turns out to be the worst, while Sokka is vindicated when the Mechanist sees the error of his ways and reforms. But not before two separate arguments where Sokka calls Katara childish and accuses her of acting like a little girl.

Arguments ultimately resolved when Katara apologizes to Sokka for not adequately respecting his very serious and ultra important role as village protector and leader. Gives him a whole speech about how great and glorious he is. And Sokka... appreciates Katara learning to respect him properly, I guess, because he never offers any similar sentiments back to her.

The show just... They need you to know how important Sokka is, okay? It's very important that you respect Sokka.

Suki

Suki suffers tremendously from that whole "Sokka's misogyny was removed" thing. Y'know, because they need something else to do with that episode. The show is deeply aware that Suki is Sokka's love interest, so they just do that right off the bat. Suki falls madly in love with him from the moment they meet, and spends the entire episode making goo-goo eyes and trying to get him to Notice Me Senpai.

They still do the "Suki Trains Sokka" stuff. But Sokka is a serious, dignified manly man worthy of the deepest respect now, so of course they don't make him wear the Kyoshi uniform. Instead, the main purpose of his training is to allow them to flirt some more. It's less martial arts training and more an excuse to grope each other and near-kiss.

Suki's just a waifu now. She still fights real good, but all of the stuff that made her relationship with Sokka interesting has been erased.

Yue

Yue, similarly, leaps straight to shipping from the word go. They write out her fiance, Hahn, by having Yue briefly meet Sokka earlier in the season. She spends one minute talking to him in the Spirit World about Spirit World lore; In that time, she falls so desperately, madly, unfathomably in love with him that she breaks off her marriage to Hahn and devotes herself to waiting for him to one day come to her.

"Never have I known such joys as that time you let me explain the spirit bear Hei Bei to you. Truly, we are destined to be together for life."

Like with Suki, they go out of their way to have Yue and Sokka already be a ship from the word 'go' so they don't have to spend time developing any kind of meaningful attraction.

They just. They really want you to know that Sokka is the manliest and most desirable man ever to walk this earth. It is very important that you understand how great he is. Women hurl themselves into his arms with zero effort whatsoever, because he's just so goddamn irresistible.

Fortunately, Hahn is super okay with this turn of events. He's the most chill guy ever, he gets along perfectly well with Sokka, and he completely supports Yue's right to dump him! In the famously misogynistic Northern Water Tribe, no less! What a swell guy. Aren't men swell?

June

June gets hit with that "rewritten as hollow waifu" stick too, but her eyes are set on Iroh. They rewrote June to be super attracted and flirty towards the man who was her unwanted sexual harasser in the source material. So that's fun.

Also, she barely does anything. Zuko hires her to find Aang, she succeeds, and then she fucks right off out of the show - But she manages to find time to express how unbelievably sexy Iroh is twice during that time.

She seriously just dropped into the show to flirt with Iroh and leave. She is unbelievably inconsequential.

Kyoshi

And then there's Kyoshi. They really want you to hate Kyoshi. She's constantly shot from below, as if looking down on Aang and the audience. Her voice takes on a demonic echoing reverb at one point as she's screaming at Aang that "THE AVATAR MUST BE A MERCILESS WARRIOR!!!"

She despises Aang, calling him a coward for running away from his responsibilities - Which, I remind you, is no longer a plot point because they unwrote that flaw from his character. So she's just a complete and utter asshole, shot from the asshole angle, yelling violently at him with asshole sound effects. They want you to despise this woman.

Azula

Awkwardly, they do not seem to want you to despise Azula.

There's a lot to be said for how Ozai treats Azula in the original show. The way the favoritism he shows her is every bit as cruel and manipulative as the unfavoritism that he shows Zuko. Ozai does not love Azula. He loves the reflection of himself he sees in her eyes, and his encouragement urges her to polish herself to ensure his reflection always shines through.

This is not that. The show instead erases the favoritism entirely. Ozai doesn't really care one way or another about either of his kids. He plays them against each other, bragging openly to Azula about how great Zuko is and unpleasably writing Azula off as weak and useless.

They've rewritten the dynamic between abusive father and his two abused kids in order to take Azula's pride away. Reimagining her from a gifted prodigy who excels at imitating the toxic behaviors of a father who doesn't truly care for her, to a put-upon overachiever tearing herself in knots to live up to the standards of her unpleasable father.

This results in a truly wild portrayal of Azula as insecure and jealous of Ozai's seemingly love for Zuko. Here, she is simply a browbeaten child constantly complaining to her friends about how mean her father is and conspiring to get one up over Daddy's Golden Child Zuko.

Which she fails at, because she backs Zhao. Zuko deftly defeats her without even realizing they're in competition.

Conclusion

The season ends well for some of these women. It ends promising that maybe we'll see Katara teaching Aang some day. It ends with Zhao bragging that Ozai just used Zuko to train Azula so maybe we'll see the more confident and misguidedly proud Azula some day. Yue becomes the moon like she's supposed to. June's still out there so maybe she'll get to do something again some day.

Katara gets to fight Pakku and lose, but she looks pretty cool. She gets to fight Zuko and lose, but she looks pretty cool. Azula learns to lightningbend because she's just so mad about Ozai's contempt for her and favoritism for Zuko, which isn't how you lightningbend.

But promises of future content fall flat when the content that exists is so underwhelming. This season made its feelings on these characters pretty evident, and it's unwise to expect better material from creators who've disappointed you with the material they already made.

The women of Netflix Avatar simply do not get to shine, outside of superficial moments like the "Women of Northern Water Tribe demand the right to fight and then fuck off and don't do anything for the entire rest of the episode" bit.

"In the midst of battle, we demand that you stop being sexist and give us permission to fight! This is a way better idea than convincing you to teach us to fight before the battle begins."

The characters of this show feel as if they've been reimagined to glorify the boys at the expense of the girls. The boys are treated with a great amount of care. They're dignified and made important movers of the plot, with their rough edges sanded off. While the girls are molded around them.

[jaythes1mp]

Do you think readers' lives would be different if they were a deer hybrid?

Fun Fact: Did you know that cervids (from the deer, deer and elk family) are considered extremely sensitive animals. When suffering severe stress, such as when captured or rescued, for example, the animal's reaction can cause what is called 'capture myopathy' ', which compromises the organism of these animals.

I do, actually. Because, another fun fact! In June of this year me and my roommate saved a baby deer who was laying next to her mums dead body (she was less than 48 hours old). Fortunately she wasn’t injured. We were extremely lucky to be living next to a wildlife specialist, our neighbour, who’s been looking after Astrid and will continue to until she’s old enough to be relocated. Thankfully this wasn’t the first deer that’s been brought to her. So unfortunately I'm very acquainted with that fact.

She’s still striving strong though! These were the first pics taken of her.

Anyway, how they’d react:

Batfam x deer hybrid reader

With Damian's exceptionally caring nature when it comes to animals, he has already meticulously planned out the perfect environment for your deer forms comfort. He has considered every possible scenario and tailored everything to ensure your contentment as well as a space to meet all of your needs.

The young Wayne would thoughtfully strategize and visualise your reactions to every minor action or stimulus. He would carefully consider the most appropriate responses and adapt his behaviour to ensure a positive and nurturing environment for you. Even if the environment in question was one that you were forced into.

The bats would handle your transformed state with great caution, disregarding if your human mind was in control when you were transformed or not. Given your affiliation with the Cervidae family in your animal form, the Wayne family would be especially mindful and considerate of your natural tendencies, behaviours, and instincts.

Despite Dick's intelligence and expertise as a vigilante, being second only to Bruce Wayne himself, his impatience would become apparent within the twenty-ninth attempt to approach you for some affectionate ‘big brother cuddles’. Assuming you’re an adult or older teen, you would be extremely skittish and resistant in your deer form to his advances and attempts to get close, if not completely avoid his presence altogether, let alone let him cling to you for a ‘snuggle.’

Jason wouldn’t comprehend why you’d consistently conceal yourself, in both forms, hiding behind the couch every time he arrives, or why you involuntarily freeze at the sound of his motorcycle, or even why you instinctively flee at the slightest hint of him standing or making a move. But despite his confusion, he doesn't hold it against you. He’s witnessed the horrific experiences and trauma the children of Gotham City are subjected to, and if hiding and evading is the way you cope with what you’re going through, then he’s willing to wait patiently for you to feel secure in his presence. As your sibling, he vowed never to give you a reason to fear him. He knows just how overwhelming it is in this new environment, and he’s not planning on giving you any more reasons to be frightened by them.

Tim would find it easier to deal with your distressed nature than the others, opting to monitor you through the security cameras, allowing him to work on his cases simultaneously, rather than being overly affectionate with you. This way, he could keep a watchful eye on you without having to directly interact, which allows him to multi-task and focus on both keeping you safe and solving his cases.

Despite Jason and Dick no longer living in the Manor, Bruce would likely be the one to spend the least time with you. However, he's not neglecting you. He makes a conscious effort to rearrange his busy schedule, keeps certain days free every week, and meticulously plans time for some quality family bonding. Even if the quality time in question only consists of him quietly sitting in your vicinity, sipping on some freshly made tea while reading the newspaper, he cherishes every moment that he gets to share with you. Simply being near you is enough. Because you're his child, and he's not planning on fucking that up ever again.

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

We talk about how mischaracterized Hobie is - which he is - but I honestly think someone else is characterized REALLY weirdly by fandom

Miguel O'Hara and Misrepresentation of His Rage: a.k.a Miguel has Ken Energy you fools

[this is a breakdown where I examine Miguel's trauma, his relationship with Miles, his role in The Society, and his personality]

I talk a lot of shit about the Hobie tag, but the over-saturation of smut in the Miguel tag is at critical mass.

And like Latino-fetishization aside, I feel like he's not written as a human.

He's written so flat.

I swear ya'll be writing him as the angriest, coldest, most anti-social man on earth. Ya'll be having him rude and avoidant with no friends whatsoever or a romantic soft latin lover and NO IN BETWEEN

which is so funny cause like... I feel like Miguel is Just A Guy

I know they're easy to overlook but I think about moments like these all the time

But I ALWAYS see him written him as friendless, and cold, or constantly irritated and angry but like - I feel like most of the time Miguel is just some dude. Like in a Good Way.

And he's fine with that.

Miguel runs a Society Full of Spider-people, and they're working for him voluntarily. Peter Parkers wouldn't work for someone they didn't think was genuinely, good-likeable, and level-headed.

He compliments Lego-Spider-Man. When Hobie was there he wasn't pissed he was just like 'not in the mood rn ngl'

and Hobie didn't take the piss outta him - because I feel like him and Hobie have a mutal understanding/relaxed relationship. All throughout the movie Hobie isn't talking bad about Miguel in specific - he never says anything about Miguel being annoying or evil - he's always taking about The Society Miguel has made.

Even Hobie - who will openly talk bad about the PM, doesn't really feel the need to diss Miguel's character in specific. Which I find very interesting.

I think this, along with a couple other things shows that the way we view Miguel in fandom is not really how he is, like..when he's not going buckwild insane.

Miguel and His Role as Canon

I could see Miguel taking his role as boss very seriously - the same way he took being a father.

Miguel has assumed the role of 'leader' over these Spider-people. In his eyes, it's his job to lead these people through their canon events to the other side, for the safety of the universe, and for them to become the people fate says they're supposed to be.

Because he made the mistake of 'going against fate'. A lot of the time we say that Miguel's justification is 'because I suffered, you must too'. But in his eyes, it's more like 'I tried to run from who I was supposed to be and it blew up in my face. Please don't make the same mistake - it's not worth it.'

Quiet literally 'Do what you're supposed to do, and things won't fall apart around you.'

And I think that really says a lot about how he feels about his own choices, and his own daughter.

Miguel broke canon to be with his daughter, and because of that, she - and billions of others, died. And Miguel feels directly responsible for that. In his eyes, he killed his daughter and murdered billions of people.

And although he loves his daughter - he sees it as not worth it. He sees taking her father's place as a mistake.

To Miguel, canon events and the pain they cause are much more 'worth it' and 'tolerable', than the pain and guilt of killing an entire universe.

Because with canon events, there is no fault. It's not your fault you couldn't catch Gwen Stacy. It's not that you're not fast enough, it's that it's suppose to happen. It's not your fault.

But in Miguel's case - it was his fault. It wasn't suppose to happen.

That's why Miles sets him off in a way others don't and can't. Because he wasn't supposed to happen.

When things are under control, Miguel is fine. When things aren't, Miguel isn't.

Miguel needs order. He needs canon. Not because he likes it, but because he feels beaten into submission by it. He feels safe in the idea that canon events happen even if you do everything right, because he still feels the guilt of having done something 'wrong'.

That's why he sees letting people die in canon events as 'the right thing'.

It's the trolley problem.

A trolley is hurtling at someone you love, on the other track there are 5 people. Do you let the one you love die, or do you hit the switch and save them - and take the blame for killing five people?

What's the right thing to do? Save your captain father and letting a universe die? Or letting your father die, but the universe will for sure live.

Miguel has already made his choice, even if he didn't know it at the time. By becoming a father, Miguel hit the switch. And he chose his daughter at the expense of a universe. And he regrets that decision. He feels guilt, like he's to blame.

When canon events happen, there's no one to blame. When anomalies happen, there is.

Miles and Miguel

Miles and Miguel have an interesting and unique dynamic with each other, one that I haven't seen anyone mention yet.

When I look at Miles and Miguel, especially in this scene:

I kinda see Miguel and a past version of himself. Miguel trying to stop what he sees - as someone about to make the same mistake he did.

When Miguel met his daughter, he didn't know about it's threat to the multiverse. And although it might be described as the best time in Miguel's life, he regrets it. If he would go back, he would have rather let his daughter live. Fatherless, but at least she would have lived.

Miguel didn't know. But Miles does. And that's what makes Miguel so furious.

Miles is going to go against canon, be with his dad, and threaten the multiverse. And Miguel believes that if Miles does this, billions of people and beings across a universe will die. 100% totality rate, 100% assured.

Miles is in the same position as Miguel once was. Miles has the same choice. To choose the one he loves over canon.

The only difference is Miles knows. He has a chance.

Miguel believes that Miles can spare himself the pain, and the guilt of murdering billions - if he just listened to him.

Miguel is the only Spider-person who has ever killed a Spider-verse. And he doesn't want that for Miles.

Miles being an anomaly was one thing. He was ready to calmly talk about that. But when Miguel sees him going down the same road as he once did, making the same choice even though Miguel is telling him not to - it makes it snap.

Because if Miguel could go back, knowing what he knows - if Miguel could only be in Miles' place - he wouldn't. Like Rio said - Miguel would kill to be in his place.

He sees Miguel like how Rio describes herself, oddly enough. Rio says she'd kill to be in Miles place, and she doesn't understand his 'irresponsible' behavior. But unbeknownst to her - his 'irresponsible' behavior is more heroic than she can understand.

Miguel is just the same. He sees Miles' choice as irresponsible, that he's making all the wrong choices even though people are throwing opportunity at him.

Miles is the only other Spider-person to risk what Miguel risked. And, genuinely believing everyone will die because of this - he's furious at Miles, the same way he's still furious at himself. He loved his daughter, and he knows Miles loves it dad. But having been on the other side of it all, he sees it as not worth it.

Miguel wants to be the only Spider-man who is the way he is. He doesn't want to Miles to do what he did, become what he is. Because he knows theres no coming back from that.

If Miguel could go back and shake himself and scream in his face to leave Gabriella alone, to just leave her dimension alone, he would. But he can't.

So he does it to Miles.

Miguel as a Boss

I don't think Miguel is an outright mean or abrasive person. I feel like outside of Miles, he's fairly calm, albeit a bit stressed. I could see him being really organized and good at time management -

And I can see Miguel being good with people. I don't think he's the kinda boss that'd be like 'Oh, you had a canon event last night? Your girlfriend fell off a building? Yeah, we get that a lot, get over it.'

And if anything - I think he'd want to help the Spider-people when it comes to processing canon events.

Miguel believes that canon events are necessary, not just to the multiverse, but to the development of who Spider-people are 'supposed' to be. So I think he'd set up support systems around HQ to help them process it, and he'd at least be a bit understanding.

I could absolutely see Miguel as the type to ask a teammate "Are you alright?" after something intense, or telling them to sit out. I could see him giving generous leave for Spiders who are going through stuff.

By Jess's response, it seems as if he leaves most of that to her, but I feel like the fact he stops to tell Gwen "Don't worry, kid." shows that he's use to comforting people, or prioritizes putting people at ease.

I mean, what Spider-man doesn't?

Miguel does seem to get along with people (aside from Miles and Gwen when he's scolding her), and it seems like people do like Miguel.

Miguel's Personality

Tbh - I don't think he's nearly as angry as fandom makes him out to be.

He was raising a child. I imagine that for the most part, he's pretty patient.

Like if you call him a name, he's not gonna get pissed. I feel like he's more likely to be like "Haha. Very funny." Or just pinch his nose bridge and be like "You done?"

I mean I know with all the gnashing and clawing and yelling and going apeshit, it can be easy to imagine Miguel as JUST that.

But I also like to imagine that most of the time, he's just like that normal boss as Target.

And a lot of his day is spent doing boring mundane things.

He's not always standing there brooding over videos of him and his dead daughter. He only does that when he's psyching himself up to yell at Miles.

Outside of that, he probably has a lot more things to do, realistically speaking. Organizing missions, checking status reports, looking over intake forms of anomalies, okaying and vetoing different protocols. Approving new technology, taking complaints from members, dealing with Hobie (an extra job in its own right), fixing things MayDay breaks, etc, etc.

And he's completely fine with that. Maybe he even finds calmness in it. When there's order, and routine, and everyone is working together and there's no kinks in the hose per say, he can operate.

Like yeah he's a little irritated and looks like he only slept 4 hours - but he's here and he's going to work with his team and employees, make sure things run smoothly, and make sure everyone gets home safe.

He's gonna try and make the society a nice place to be and make sure people on the team (like Lego) feel appreciated and odd-one-outs like Hobie get to hang and do what they want without much kickback.

The other Spider-people - like Pavi - wouldn't have joined otherwise.

If Pavi had showed up and Miguel was all stern and cold and rude, he probably would've been like 'no thanks my friend'

Miguel knew Peter B. before he lost Gabriella. So he had to become friends with Peter some way. He was putting up with Peter and his humor by choice, and in return Peter must have found Miguel cool enough to hang out with.

I think it's because Miguel is good with people, a lot of different types of people.

He's pretty down to earth, even if he is a work-aholic. He can be fun to chill or hang out with, even if he's a bit of a tight-ass.

Sure his humor may be dry, and his personality tame, but he's just him.

But I can see him as being a guy who you see at the gym routinely and never say hi to but you just nod at each other in silent respect while doing your workouts sometime.

Or the dude at your job you only see at the coffee machine - you know he does other stuff, but you never run into him anywhere else.

Or the dude who'll stop on the street when you ask for the time and lift one earphone before telling you it, then walking away without another word.

DO YOU GET WHAT I MEAN DO YOU GET THAT VIBE Like just Dude He's like a dad but not like a 'Dad vibe' with like sneakers or anything but like 'Dad who comes to PTA meeting but doesn't talk to anybody and quietly leaves when it's over'.

DO YOU UNDERSTAND PLEASE TELL ME IF YOU UNDERSTAND THIS VIBE It's giving Ken.

Anyways stop avoiding Miguel's Kenergy.

[ccrypticcorvidae]

RE: Mouthwashing, Curly

I wanna talk a bit abt Curly's so-called "punishment" because I like the symbolism an immense amount and I think his character is really complex.

Before the crash, when Anya tells Curly that she's pregnant, he feels like he's powerless to bring her justice because of the circumstances. Jimmy was his best friend, who he believed to be a good person despite his past mistakes, and who he was able to get a decent job by having his employers look past the criminal records. The team is stuck on the same ship without locks in the sleeping quarters for months, and he wants to do everything in his power to keep the peace so that everyone would make it out of the less-than-ideal situation mostly unharmed. As the captain, he's protective over his crew, and he's already failed one of its members directly by inviting a dangerous man to live amongst them without room for the potentially severe repercussions he would face in society (i.e. "take responsibility"). When he does confront Jimmy, he sees his true colors, having expected him to take responsibility for his actions instead of covering things up. Curly is kind to a fault - sees the good in people - and for this, he takes the brunt of the ship's crashing due to his own selflessness in trying to save as much of it as possible.

Now he's physically powerless; he can't be there to protect his crew mates, to act as a mediator between them via verbal communication as opposed to violence. He can't assist Anya in her deteriorating mental status due to the trauma she endured, and she's ultimately consumed by it - all while he watches on helplessly, wishing he had noticed her struggles sooner. He can't stop the fight between Jimmy and Swansea once Anya reveals to the latter what was done to her, and consequentially, the deaths that followed. The plight of his character is to witness the downfall of those he was supposed to lead and be the only one to survive in the end, continually tormented with the knowledge that Pony Express would likely sweep these horrid events under the rug the same way they did Jimmy's criminal history. If he is successfully rescued, Jimmy's framing guarantees he will be blamed for everything, without any real way to defend himself. In the end, he had no decision in whether he would live or die as the others did, his personal liberties taken from him. Curly is left alone and vulnerable, in parallel to Anya, the cycle of endless pain starting over once again. In the end, Jimmy would never truly take accountability for the pain he caused, and in one, final, selfish move, he sentenced his only real friend to live with it under the pretense of "fixing things."

[therainscene]

I think I might have figured out what the Mind Flayer really is.

This theory has been percolating in my brain for a while now; it hasn't really finished baking yet but I wanted to get the gist of it down before The First Shadow debuts.

Let’s begin at the Hawkins National Lab, 6th November 1983. For the second time in her young life, El faces terrifying and deeply traumatic circumstances which cause her powers to lash out and rip a gash in the fabric of reality.

Meanwhile, across town, Will is doing what every queer 12 year-old has done and finds an excuse to spend an extra moment alone with his crush.

His little gay heart is as aflutter as the garage lights.

(Strange, that. The lights, I mean -- considering that he's on the other side of town from the lab. Do you suppose the Demogorgon trekked all the way to Mike's house and quietly followed him home again?)

Will heads home, lost in thought as he cycles past the lab. Is he thinking about how sweet his new X-Men #134 is gonna be? Or is he thinking about something even sweeter? The lights flutter again.

And something in front of him notices.

Will has always been noticeable: his clothes, his mannerisms, his interests -- they've always attracted the attentions of bullies. Now something new -- or maybe something that was always there and is only now making itself known -- has attracted the attentions of a monster.

He runs home, he calls for help, but he's alone, there's no escape. He races to the shed and loads a gun like his father taught him -- but it's not in his nature to be violent. He freezes, petrified.

The lights surge as his terror wrestles control of his powers and uses them to puncture an escape route in the fabric of reality.

Why were we so quick to believe that the Demogorgon -- a minion of the guy whose whole thing is his inability to open gates -- was able to open its own temporary portals in S1 and then never again?

Will could plausibly have been responsible for every temporary portal in S1: he’s at the Byers house when the Demogorgon pushes through its walls; he's on the run to Castle Byers when Nancy stumbles across that portal in the woods; and he's plugged in to one of Vecna's vines during the finale -- something we see Vecna plug himself into when he remotely opens gates in S4.

There’s one exception though.

Barb likely slipped through a gate in Steve's pool, but how could Will have opened that one when he was in his bedroom at the time, talking to his mother through the lights?

Let me ask you this: isn't it interesting that of all the injuries Barb could have obtained in her passage to the Upside Down, she got a nosebleed?

I think powers are more common than we’ve been led to believe, and gates are a last-ditch self-defense mechanism for anyone with powers.

This is why the four curse victims’ deaths opened a gate: Vecna pushed them to their breaking point to artificially trigger the self-defense response. Those headaches and nosebleeds weren't caused by Vecna directly, but by their own powers acting up as they inched towards oblivion.

[Shoutout to @givehimthemedicine's underrated powers and blood theory for the idea of Vecna's Curse being the overcharging of his victims' own powers.]

It was already pretty obvious that Vecna's Curse is a metaphor for suicide, and this theory reinforces it: every kid who gets targeted by the horrors of Hawkins for being "different" tries to find some way to escape.

Willel's misfortune is that their powers are considerably more easily manifested than the average person's. Byler tells the story of visible vs invisible queerness, but that's just a reflection of the larger theme at play in the show: the visible and invisible ways kids are othered and abused.

Max's trauma was a quiet thing that came from within and festered until it was almost too late to save her... but Willel's trauma manifests as a giant monster that openly hunts them down.

And I'm being literal when I say the Mind Flayer is a manifestation of their trauma.

We know that Vecna fashioned the Mind Flayer from a cloud of black particles he found in the Upside Down, but where did that cloud come from? The Upside Down is a mysterious enough place that it's easy to assume the Shadow is native to that realm... but what if it isn't?

The Mind Flayer is heavily associated with repression -- Will gradually lost his memories while he was possessed, and El lost her powers when the sliver of Flesh Flayer wormed its way into her leg.

But Will has mysteriously been without powers ever since leaving the Upside Down, and we've seen El lose memories too: her memories of surviving the lab massacre, in which she didn't simply escape by opening up a gate, but by disintegrating her attacker into black particles.

The Mind Flayer doesn't cause repression -- it is repression.

There must have been countless generations worth of traumatized children who took the extra step El did and sent their abusers -- or at least their memories of abuse -- into that hidden realm beyond the gate.

(There's also the possibility that Mr. Time-is-Just-a-Social-Construct is stuck in a time loop of some sort -- maybe the massacre has repeated hundreds of times, and Dimension X is a timeless graveyard of El's attempts to repress her trauma. This would explain why Henry seems to have both disintegrated and survived: we were watching at least two different iterations of the massacre all along.)

Whichever way you slice it, it's a perfect fit: the tool Vecna uses to perpetuate the cycle of abuse isn't some bizarro alien from an alternate dimension, but a direct consequence of the cycle itself.

The Mind Flayer tells us that escape alone doesn't work as a long-term solution: it might help you survive the initial abuse, but if you don't address the effect it had on you...

...it will come back to wreck havok.

[Edit: Click here for post-TFS thoughts on this theory]

[meiieiri]

water’s edge | concept dump

₊˚.༄ pairing: crown prince!gojo satoru x f!reader | setting: modern royal au

₊˚.༄ summary: in a world where titles define their fates, gojo satoru, the crown prince of japan, and his wife-to-be, face a tempestuous court of deception and schadenfreude. as they waltz on the edge of ruin, can their love endure the treacherous waters that threaten to pull them apart, or will the whims of the enigmatic chrysanthemum throne prove strong enough to drown them both?

₊˚.༄ warnings: mean!gojo (but that’s not even the worst of it oh my god what monstrosity have i created), arranged marriage, illness, allusions to criminal activity that may include reckless homicide, physical battery and attempted murder. mentions of depression, cheating, physical and emotional abuse, trauma, adultery. fictional depiction of the japanese imperial family, etc.

LINK TO FULL FIC MASTERLIST HERE!

₊˚.༄ Crown Prince!Gojo who is the only son of the emperor and empress of Japan, the beloved and long-awaited child of his parents. As a child, he had been showered with endless praise and veneration as the one, true, legitimate heir to the chrysanthemum throne. The entire imperial household had expected the prince to inherit an unwavering sense of duty to the crown and to his people much like his fore-bearers, only to be severely disappointed when the prince turns out to be a pathological card shark with ambiguous morals, and a serial womanizer who has slept with countless women from aristocratic backgrounds during the height of his bachelor years.

₊˚.༄ Crown Prince!Gojo who finally incurs his father’s wrath after a nasty bar brawl that leads to him getting unceremoniously arrested and is stripped of his title and properties as crown prince, favoring his half-brother, Prince Suguru Geto, who had been born of the emperor’s affair with one of the empress’s ladies-in-waiting. This incident has prompted his mother, the empress, to help in ratifying his public image by arranging Satoru to marry a commoner with an impeccable standing in Japanese society in a bid to re-portray Satoru as a responsible, married man. The empress, in turn, offers to grant you, Satoru’s future wife-to-be, anything your heart could ever desire.

₊˚.༄ Crown Prince!Gojo who engages in a pantomime act of being a loving husband to you during a state banquet by showering you with endless praise in his speech addressed to all the world leaders in the Akasaka Palace’s reception hall. When he was asked to introduce you, his new wife, the honeyed words came so easily to him. “You see, the princess (Y/N) is no ordinary woman,” he chuckles into the microphone causing the guests to giggle at the sight of what looks to be a bashful newlywed.

“Other than being the first breath of fresh air our family has ever had the pleasure of knowing in so long, and the most active member in our family when it comes to supporting the many royal charities and foundations, she is…” he trails off. You dared to follow the wandering gaze of your husband, who seems to be searching for another pair of eyes in the room. His eyes eventually stop their search, softening at the sight of the one he loved. For a second, you think he is looking at you, and your heart naively skips a beat in your chest as if all these months of inattention and animosity were finally coming to an end.

“…My better half, the keeper of my own heart.”

Many of the ambassador’s wives who sat beside you nudged you in congratulations for being so blessed with such a devoted husband. You crane your head back to smile warmly at them for the kind words only to have ice coat your veins instantly when you see his Chief-of-Staff, Himiko Zenin, sitting about two seats behind you, staring directly at your husband with a wistful look in her eyes, exchanging words of love in a silent oath — one that is far more certain than the rising and the setting of the sun as each day passes with your husband hating you a tad bit more than yesterday, and one that is far more truthful than the wedding vows you shared.

Of course, writing this godforsaken death march-like speech was easy for Satoru, simply because these words of devotion and love were never intended for you anyway; this poetic spiel was written with another woman ensnaring his mind.

₊˚.༄ Crown Prince!Gojo who sneaks out of bed during your wedding night, sparing one last cold glance at your sleeping form before he saunters out the imperial villa to meet his girlfriend in a nearby mountain resort, about half a mile away from the villa. His personal chauffeur had been sworn to secrecy, else, he would incur the wrath of the crown prince.

“I thought you couldn’t get away,” Himiko moans wantonly into his mouth as he roughly takes her from behind, the lewd wet sounds of their lovemaking echoing through the room. He had taken the liberty of secretly bringing Himiko along to your honeymoon, by booking the most expensive suite in the resort for her under another name.

“The bitch is too fucked out to even notice I’m gone— mmph—“ he throws his head back, releasing a pleasured groan when Himiko meets his sharp thrusts, grinding teasingly on his cock as she does so. He grips her hips tightly, readjusting his hips to pound into her from another angle, the muscles on his abs tightening as he gets lost in the feeling of her tight, luscious walls. “Sh-shit, ‘m-m gonna cum—“

“—Ah! S-Satoru,” she was close too, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as the fat tip of his member roughly prods at her cervix.

He half-expected Himiko to be angry with him for engaging in intimate acts with you, but she simply acts like she didn’t hear him. And even if she was upset, why should he, of all people, apologize? She should have known that becoming his mistress entailed having to endure these kinds of things as these were simply Satoru’s marital duties, and by extension, his duty to the crown.

His high washes over him like a tidal wave crashing into the rock shore, grunting as he involuntarily thrusts as he releases inside her, Himiko collapsing onto the pillows as he does. “O-oh, haaa- agh,” his deep tenor moans into her long black hair as his seed paints her walls, holding her close to his form, their heartbeats racing a million miles an hour.

He pulls out his flaccid cock, plopping down next to her, pulling her small frame for her head to rest on his chest. “I just need to have father reinstate me as heir apparent and return all my estates, then,” he kisses her once, his lips moving in sync with her soft ones.

“…We’ll get rid of her.”

₊˚.༄ Crown Prince!Gojo who blatantly and publicly humiliates you by bringing along Himiko Zenin to a state visit to the imperial family’s counterpart in Monaco rather than you, his rightful wife. And when asked of your whereabouts, Satoru simply replies with a casual shrug, his hand squeezing Himiko’s smaller ones as she usurps the banquet thrown in your honor by the Monacan royal family while you watch the horrific scene unfold on your television screen, your heart shattering into a million pieces as Himiko and Satoru uncaringly waltz with one another in front of the watchful eyes of the entire world throughout the evening.

₊˚.༄ Crown Prince!Gojo who crucifies you for your acts of sincere charity, believing you to be actively humiliating Himiko despite having no intentions whatsoever resembling his baseless accusation. “Did you honestly think your little publicity antics would go unpunished? I bet you were just itching for the attention, weren’t you?” he snarls at you the second you come back from a visit to one of the hospitals you had commissioned for the treatment of children with rare diseases, a compassionate act which had been heavily televised by national broadcasting stations and even international news agencies. “If you wish to compete with Himiko, wife, then, by all means. But I swear to you, I will do everything — everything I can — to make the entire world know just how much of an opportunistic whore you are—”

You gaze up at your husband with fear in your eyes. “…I was not competing with Himiko, can I not care for our people — your people? I’m sure they need someone to promote their interests when their own prince couldn’t be bothered to do so!” you retaliate but are quickly shot down when he throws his scotch glass at the wall, causing you to flinch when it shatters on impact.

“I will make sure this humiliation you dealt to Himiko will return to you tenfold, (Y/N),” he dangerously seethes, coming to the aid of his mistress. “Celebrate your victory all you want, wife, but make no mistake, this is far from over.”

₊˚.༄ Crown Prince!Gojo who indifferently scoffs when you crumble into a sobbing mess after yet another argument with him. “W-what can I do to make you not hate me so much? P-please tell me, Satoru.” The only response you receive is your husband dangerously moving closer to you, his eyes, dark with pure loathing. Instinctively, you step backward, only to be met by the cold wall of your shared bedroom. “S-Satoru—“

“—Here’s what you can do: do exactly as I say, without question,” he traps you between his arms, his breath hot on your skin, his lips dangerously close to yours, his voice dripping with the venom that could turn every silver thread in your heart into a hue that resembled charcoal black. “If I tell you to kiss me, you kiss me. If I tell you to get out, you get out. If I tell you to shut up, you sew your mouth shut or rip your tongue out, I really don’t give a damn. If I tell you to die…”

…

…

“…You drop dead.”

a/n: meh, just wrote this at the top of my head to get rid of this stupid writer’s block since hehe i have like eighteen drafts of jjk smut and drabbles in my tumblr folder rn help :’)

might turn this into a multi-chapter fic depending on how it is received. so lemme know your thoughts by reblogging, liking or commenting on this post!

[violetflowerswrites]

I’ll Be Here

Summary: After a traumatic injury, your SWAT roommate turned boyfriend (?) Jim Street strives to take care of you, and meet all of your needs.

Pairing: Jim Street x (Female) Reader

Disclaimer: Minor mentions of leg injury, meds, and recovery with wheelchair, casts, and crutches. Reader has a protective older sister. One scene of nightmares, mentions of trauma. Discussion of child abuse, drug use, drunkenness, in Street’s family history. Filthy Smut. Oral sex (female receiving). Consensual P in V sex. 18+ for explicit smut, and language

Word Count: 4.0k

A/N: I felt like there needed to be one more epilogue / ending to this Street x Roommate fic series. It picks up directly after the ending of Part Two (Taking it Slow). I got a little caught up fleshing out her backstory and recovery journey, but there’s a bit of angst, a bit of fluff, and quite a bit of smut. I added some details from Season 4, Ep 2 as well. It’s a slower paced story than what I normally like, but I still had a fun hell of time writing it. Enjoy!

Part One Here - “Too Complicated”

Part Two Here - “Taking It Slow”

Masterlist Here

…

The click of the door makes the two of you startle, and quickly.

“Commander Hicks is gonna put you on armory duty for a week for pulling a stunt like that.”

“Hey, Tan.” Street smiles at his teammate’s lack of greeting. Classic Tan — a bit of hard-ass, but always means well. “Hicks already chewed my ear off on the phone earlier.”

“Figured. I just wanted to come down, see how my friend’s sister was doing. I already briefed her on what happened. She’s on her way back from a case up in Burbank.”

“Thank you, Victor.” You breathe out a sigh of relief.

Victor Tan was co-workers with your older sister back from his days in LAPD’s Hollywood Vice division. When you decided to move to LA, she figured you being roommates with a SWAT officer was the safest place you could be.

But the world is a dangerous place, even if you live with Jim Street, LAPD SWAT.

Victor looks you up and down, noticing that besides being a little pale, and having a massive cast on your leg, you don’t seem to be in pain.

Then, he notices the way that Street is standing— body turned to yours, hand hovering on the bedside protectively, as if he wanted to hold your hand at any given moment.

“Hold on, don’t tell me you two are a thing now.”

A hot flush creeps up your skin and you and Street immediately stumble over your responses.

“We were trying to take it slow—“

“and not make things too complicated…”

“but then this happened so…”

“We don't really know what we are, but I do know that I am so so grateful for you Victor. You and Street helped save my life.”

You end your rush of words with a watery smile, emotion cracking your voice.

Tan looks down sheepishly, immediately trying to be casual about it.

“Nah, Y/N. It was the tourniquet you made that probably saved your life. You gave us a big scare today, but I am glad to see you’re okay.”

“That makes 3 of us.”

A petite, fierce-looking female cop stands in the doorway of the hospital room, her hand sweeping back some stray hairs that fell out of her tight bun in her rush to get to you.

…

Your bad-ass cop sister stays over for a week while you recover, watching Street like a hawk. You’re so hopped up on pain-killers that you barely notice the tension between them.

Street on the other hand, feels like he’s being evaluated in some test he didn’t train for. He couldn’t take time off, so he’s eager to see you whenever he gets home. But most of the time, your sister is hovering over you, helping you adjust to moving around in the wheelchair, and making sure you are eating your meals and taking all your meds correctly.

One late evening while you’re supposed to be sleeping, you overhear your sister confront him.

“So. When were you gonna tell me you’re fucking my sister?”

Street spits out the beer he just took a sip of. He’s barely exchanged more than a few sentences to your sister, and that was when she helped you move in a few months ago.

“Uh…”

“I see the way you look at her. I’m pretty sure I warned you that this arrangement was solely to keep her safe while living in this neighborhood. Didn’t expect you guys to fuck so quickly.”

Damn. Your sister is known to be blunt, but this is next level. You remembered how she reacted when your dick-head of a college ex-boyfriend broke your heart. He was sorry to have ever known you after that.

“About that…” Street starts, but gets cut off with a raised palm in his face.

“Before you say anything, I’m not an idiot. I’ve seen the way she looks at you. She hasn’t told me yet, but I know. She’s down bad for you, Street.”

You automatically pull your covers up in embarrassment, hearing your sister lay all your feelings out in the open like that. She’s right though, you’ve fallen hard for him and it’s not just because he saved your life a week ago.

It’s because he's an empathetic listener to your rants about work, LA traffic, anything.

It’s the way he notices the small things, like when you're stress baking, or when you have your shoulders hunched up in frustration at the kitchen counter.

It’s how he gently pries your closed off doors open, helping you heal from your past.

It’s how he loves you, in such a sweet, gentle way that only he can.

“So you have 2 days before I go back to Vice to show me that you can take care of her.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Well, I don’t want to, but we’re about to make a big drug bust and my team needs me. Y/N is strong. She can take care of herself, but I worry about her. Her surgery was intense, and it’s gonna be a long recovery. I was gonna have her live with me for a few months, but I don’t think she wants to be away from you.”

“Thank you.” Street lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. He may be a big bad SWAT officer, but your 5 foot nothing of a cop sister scared the shit out of him.

“Don’t thank me yet.”

…

That weekend, you get the full princess treatment from Street. He helps train your upper body strength to be able to lift yourself on and off your wheelchair. He takes you to the park to get some sun, and makes sure the entire house is wheelchair friendly so you can move around independently. He rearranges the fridge and pantry so that your favorite foods are all easily reachable from your lower height. He even meal-preps some home-cooked lunches to have while you go back to work on Monday.

Working with your sister, he re-arranges his schedule so he can drive you to the office in the morning and your sister can take you home.

On Sunday evening, you read out a long string of dates as Street writes all your upcoming appointments on the fridge-calendar and your sister says which ones she can take you to, and which ones she needs Street to help drive you.

“Well…fuck.” Your sister swears, which only happens when she’s particularly exasperated.

”What? What’s wrong?” You look up from your laptop with your Google calendar open.

“Y/N, I didn’t wanna admit it, but you got a good one here.”

An ear-splitting grin spreads across Street’s face as he realizes what she means.

You obviously told your sister that you overheard Friday night’s conversation, and all of what’s been going on between you and Street…minus the mind-blowing sex.

“He passed?” You ask eagerly, hopeful stars in your eyes.

“He never had to pass anything in the first place, Y/N. If you chose him, that’s all the approval I needed to know. I trust you. I was just giving him a hard time, because I love you.”

You burst out laughing while Street spits out a flabbergasted “The hell did I try so hard for?!”

“That’s what big sisters are for. Y/N deserves all the princess treatment she can get. We put our lives on the line every day, but she doesn’t normally have to. She’s gonna need you, Street.”

Street places a reassuring hand on your sisters’ shoulder.

“I’ll be here.”

…

Street lives up his promise, taking care of you through some of the worst physical and emotional pain you’ve ever been in.

He’s there at your physical therapy appointments, making sure you’re practicing the exercises at home even when you just want to lie down from exhaustion.

He’s there holding your hand even though you squeeze him until his fingers go numb. It hurts him to see your face contort with unexpected pain when the meds wear off and you try putting some weight on your leg for the first time in weeks.

He’s there when the trauma sets in. He notices when you’re on the couch in the evenings, the TV on, but you’re not really watching. He holds you tightly while you wake up in the middle of night crying, reliving the moment you almost died.

He’s there through it all.

…

“How do you deal with it?”

You’re sitting upright in bed, the soft yellow glow of the bedside lamp warming the darkness of the middle of the night.

“Deal with what?”

Street’s sitting next to you, holding your hand while your sweat-soaked forehead leans against his shoulder, your racing heartbeat finally slowing down.

Your breath draws in and out in a steady rhythm as you calm yourself from your latest nightmare with his comforting presence.

Street ran into your room when he heard you. That’s been the third night in a row that you’ve woken up to the sound of your own screaming.

“Deal with trauma. Not the physical pain, but those horrible moments that just keep flashing before your eyes every time you close them.”

“Well, I’ve been dealing with trauma my whole life I guess.”

Street has already talked to you about growing up in the foster system, because his dad was a drunk. You knew that his mom was in jail for killing him, but Street didn’t go into details. You knew as much as he hated talking about his past, he hated talking about his complicated relationship with his mom even more.

“Last week, we were surveilling a house, trying to get someone for the CIA, and I saw a kid. A little boy, covered in bruises on his back porch. He looked so alone, and so scared.”

“What happened?”

“I got into it with Hondo a bit, almost compromised the mission because I wanted to get him out of that abusive home.”

“Did you?”

“Yes. But it brought back a lot of memories, and none of them good.”

It was your turn to comfort Street as you could hear his breath come in shudders as he thought back to his rough childhood.

“Have I ever told you that my earliest memory of kindergarten was my mom putting makeup on my chin to cover up my dad’s crappy weekend?”

“No.” The word comes out in a saddened whisper. “You’ve never told me that one before.”

“Well, it’s not something that comes up in casual conversation. And I’ve tried a lot of things to make sure I never have to mention those moments.”

“What kinds of things?”

Street lets out a wry chuckle.

“What haven’t I tried? Drugs, alcohol. Thrill seeking. Street racing. Driving way past the speed limit.”

“You still do that one.”

Street laughs genuinely now. “Yeah, but not where I’ll get caught by cops.”

“You are a cop!”

He chuckles again, but quiets down into contemplative silence.

“For many years, I just poured myself into my job. Climbing the ladder until I could make something of myself. Run away as far as I could from that childhood me. The one with the drunk dad, jailed mom. The helpless foster kid.”

“It didn’t help, did it?”

“No. Not really.”

“Then, how did you heal?”

Street looks down at you now, his heart breaking to see tears streaming down your face. He’s certain those are empathetic tears, tears for his hardships. His rough childhood. Pangs of guilt wash over him.

He doesn’t deserve your tears.

Then, he sees the way you’re looking at him. The way you’re holding him in a bone-crushing embrace. Well, as tightly as you could possibly hold all of his heavily-muscled torso.

So, he sucks in a grounding breath and reminds himself that you’re crying because you care about him. Because you love him.

And it’s okay to accept your love.

Street caresses your cheek with a strong hand, and thumbs off a few of your tears.

“I’m still healing. But when those moments come, I’ve learned that it helps to talk about it.”

All those late-night bike rides down the California coastline could never truly help him escape from his problems.

He thinks back to all the people in his life who’ve helped him open up. Who’ve confronted him on his bullshit and made him stop running away.

Hondo and Buck.

Chris, Deacon, Tan, and Luca.

Even his ex-girlfriend, Molly Hicks.

As much as he hates to admit it, putting his trauma out in the open was better than keeping it in.

Your hand in his starts trembling and that small movement pulls him out of his thoughts.

“What if I’m not ready to talk yet?” You choke, as if you could barely get the words out.

“Then I’ll be here waiting until you are.”

…

Weeks pass in a whirlwind of work, doctors’ appointments, and recovery exercises at home. Eventually, the nightmares subside, and you start seeing a therapist to help you work through the trauma.

You graduate from the wheelchair and giant full-length cast to a bootie on your calf and ankle. The hardwood floor is littered with little dents from the first few days you learned to hobble around on crutches, but you get the hang of it quickly.

Both Street and your sister feel much more at ease leaving you at home alone, knowing that you can take care of yourself more easily now.

Except today.

Because your idiot brain put the crutches by the bathroom door instead of next to the towel rack.

And here you are, butt-naked in the shower, the floor wet and a slipping hazard, and 6 feet away from independence.

Just as you debate bear-crawling across the cold tile to grab your crutches, you hear the front door open and close.

“Street!” You call out.

Heavy footsteps rush over to the bathroom and skid to a stop as Street quickly leans his head against the door and asks urgently, “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine! I just left the crutches by the door and I can’t reach them. Can you help me get out of the shower?”

Street breathes out a sigh of relief. Ever since the accident, he finds himself panicking easily about any situation that has to do with you getting hurt.

“Of course. I’m coming in.”

You’ve managed to dry yourself off, wrap your body in a fluffy white towel, and sit on the edge of the tub.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by Street how your damp hair clings to your skin, flushed from the hot water. Lavender-scented steam hits him in a rush as he opens the door, a familiar smell to him. You love lavender shampoo, soaps, lotions, candles, anything.

He scoops you up gently, trying not to think about the last time he carried you like this was when you were bloodied, unconscious, and barely alive.

A small moan draws him out of his head immediately.

Not a moan of pain.

A moan of lust.

What?

Street freezes and gently places you on the bathroom counter, carefully holding your injured leg against his hip.

His eyes dart across your flustered face as you realize just what kind of inadvertent sound escaped your lips as soon as you were in Street’s strong arms, and you inhaled the familiar leather of his bike jacket.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Street kisses you breathless and pulls your towel down, inhaling your damp skin and that damned lavender soap that is making him dizzy with lust.

Water drips from the ends of your hair down your body, and Street licks up the river trailing from your shoulder, down the swell of your breasts, all the way to your core.

He pulls you to the edge as he kneels down in front of you. Ever-conscious of your injury, he lifts your hurt leg onto his shoulder, which only serves to widen your thighs, giving him full access.

Your knuckles tighten against the counter and your moans bounce off the tiled walls the second he licks your dripping pussy.

Street is a master at oral and it’s been weeks since you’ve had the pleasure of being his pupil.

His tongue dives first into your center, stretching your hot, leaking core. Then his lips find your clit, sucking it in gently, until the nerve endings in the sensitive nub light your body up with pleasure.

Before you have a moment to recover, his fingers find your entrance and enter with ease. Your slick gushes out, dripping onto the towel as he thrusts two fingers in and out. His knuckles curl up, searching for the spongy spot that he knows will drive you absolutely wild.

Filthy sounds of wetness fill the bathroom as he eats you out and fingers your clenched center, once, twice, three times.

Before long, his moans mix with your own as you voice your pleasure, cumming on his face in moments.

“Keep going.”

Street freezes at the first words you’ve uttered since he kissed you. It was an impulse, a lack of self-control that got him to this point in the first place.

It was seeing you nearly naked, with that damned lavender filling his nostrils that drove him crazy.

But he was going to stop. It was enough to get you off.

”I’m not done yet, Street.” You demand arrogantly, and look pointedly at the hard erection pushing against his dark-blue jeans.

“But—“

“I’ll be fine. Just hold my leg up and fuck me.”

You pull him up by the collar of his leather jacket, and kiss him roughly, panting in his ear as you lick and suckle the skin of his cheek, his neck, the underside of his jaw.

It’s been too long since you’ve had his body, his touch, his cock. You crave him with a hunger you’ve never known before.

And now that you’ve had a taste, every cell in your being is vibrating with one simple word.

More.

Needing no other encouragement, Street strips off his jacket only for you to take it and pull it over your bare shoulders.

The sight of you, fully naked except for his jacket, makes him suck in a breath.

His eyes darken immediately and he can hear his heart beat in double time.

You make him go feral.

It takes no time at all for him to rid himself of his remaining clothing, and line himself up with your pink entrance.

“You’ll tell me if I’m hurting you?” Street asks, still hesitant, even as the pre-cum of his throbbing member mixes with your juices.

“Yes.” You affirm breathlessly, feeling the round tip of his hard cock start to breach your center.

“You’ll stop me if you can’t handle it?”

“Yes.”

“You’re sure about this, Y/N?”

“Yes! Street, fill me with your cock already!”

He blushes at your filthy words, feeling the heel of your good leg dig into the small of his back, trying to draw him into your waiting core.

You finally feel him push through the tight circle of your center. You’re especially tight, having not had sex since the accident over a month ago.

Street lets out a growl as he feels your pussy gripping him, struggling to push in deeper.

But instead of pain, you only feel pleasure.

“Fuck—! That feels incredible. Go deeper, Street. Please!” You beg him, desperate for more.

He grabs your thighs, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he pulls you towards his pelvis. You can feel his cock thrust to the end, finally completely filling you with all of him.

You throw your arms around his waist, breathing heavily as the heady lavender steam only serves to make the two of you even more sex-drunk.

You hear Street suck in another deep breath before he pulls out, and slowly inches his way back into you, experimenting with how fast he should go.

How much you can handle.

But the slower pace feels heavenly to your hot, needy core. His cock stretches every part of you, pressing against your spongy center, all the way to your cervix as he thrusts down to the hilt once more.

”How’s that, Y/N? Does it hurt?” Street checks in with you again, a vein popping out of his neck as he strains to maintain his self-control. All his cock wants is to fuck you with total abandon, but he refuses to put himself first.

Your voice comes out in a stream of incoherent whimpers as you wordlessly express just how good it feels to be filled by him.

So Street cups the back of your ass, and presses you flush against him, and you cry out, feeling him impossibly deep inside.

“Oh my god! Street!”

“I’m just getting started.” He grins, licking the side of your neck as he starts to roll his hips into you.

You feel his cock slip out just a few inches only to thrust back in as far as it can go, over and over.

As you look down, you are blessed with the magnificent sight of Street’s abs clenching with every sensual roll of his body against yours.

Every slight motion pushes you to the brink of orgasm, your body almost unable to handle all the stimulation after having only known pain and discomfort for the past several weeks.

Impulsively, you bite down on Street’s shoulder, trying to expend all the pleasure you’re feeling somewhere else, muffling your moans against his muscled flesh.

“Shit! Are you biting me?” Street growls, incredulous, but also massively turned on.

“Does it hurt?” You grin mischievously, pulling his lower lip in between your teeth next.

“Yeah.”

“A good hurt, or bad hurt?”

“Good.” Another sharp inhale. “Fuck, I’m already close!”

Street’s body shudders as you feel his grip slide back to your hips, his slow thrusts giving way to a faster, more desperate rhythm.

You nibble and nip the side of his neck, the bottom of his ear, as you feel just how hot his skin is under your tongue and lips.

Another loud moan is wrenched from your throat as he hits a particularly sensitive spot inside you. His cock satisfies your body in a way you can’t describe.

You can’t wait any longer.

“Cum for me.” You whisper into his ear, demanding his obedience. His brow furrows as he tries to delay his incoming orgasm, and you kiss it, giggling as you watch him come undone by your body.

Street pushes his cock into you, your wetness making the movement easy, but your tightness gripping him like he is never supposed to separate from you again.

You lock your fingers behind the small of his back, pulling him in and clenching down until you feel his cock spurt out jets of hot cum into your core.

Street grits his teeth and heaves out the sexiest, most overstimulated moan you’ve ever heard from any man.

Your own orgasm follows right behind his, your entire being vibrating with pleasure, wetness repeatedly gushing around his cock. Your pussy stutters, muscles spasming as it tries to recover from the best sex you’ve ever had, with the biggest cock you’ve ever had.

With the most loving, caring man you’ve ever had. Your heart fills with love and contentment at the moment the two of you just shared.

This is what sex should be like - intimacy, pleasure, love.

It is truly something else.

“Y/N?” Street murmurs against your damp shoulder, slowly regaining some semblance of control and coherent thoughts.

“Mmm?”

“You know I love you, right?”

“I know.”

“I never want to hurt you.”

“I know.”

“I’ll always be here for you.”

You find the rough skin of his jaw and pry him off your body, and instead, pull his face towards you, your forehead pressing against his. As you lock eyes with the emotional gaze of your lover, you notice that he’s a little teary, and your heart melts for him even more. Jim Street. The love of your life.

“I know.”

…

[ambrosiagourmet]

Character POV unreliability factors -

Kabru: treats things like they are his fault and his responsibility to an unreasonable degree. Sometimes filters other people’s treatment of him through the lens of assuming that they all think these things are his fault/responsibility too. Other than that he’s mostly good at reading people and situations. It’s just that his view of himself is so distorted by what he thinks he should be that the closer someone gets to him, the more distorted they become, too.

Marcille: anxiety brain doesn’t turn off easily once it has been turned on. This leads her catastrophizing both about outcomes and about what people think of her. Also, I think she’s not very good at understanding what she’s good at, outside of the very particular slice of what she has been told she is good at, academically. I’m not projecting you’re projecting.

Laios: will not fucking directly acknowledge his own pain. He can be aware of discomfort and frustration, but actually getting him to look at the root cause is nigh impossible. This is both very fun and very annoying to write. Laios you are allowed to acknowledge your trauma. Please. Please acknowledge your trauma. Laios get back here.

[cosmicjoke]

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is a trauma response.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Despite it all, he became a genuine hero.

Despite it all, the goodness in him remains.

[dancingbirdie]

Oh look it's me with another Astarion fic, what a concept.

This is the next part in my Astarion series called The Planets Bend Between Us (title taken from Snow Patrol's song). Part 1 (flashback) and Part 2 can be found by clicking on those links!

Everything is also posted on Ao3 - link to that here!

Find Me, Here

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Astarion x f!Tav

Word Count: 2.2K

Tags/Warnings: SMUT FREE FLUFF, non-sexual body worship, angst, trauma/trauma responses/trauma recovery

Suggested Song Pairing: The Light by The Album Leaf

They had begun sleeping together. There was no sex involved, or even suggested. Despite their mutual desire for one another, both had agreed to take this slow. Both had their demons to reckon with when it came to… relationships. The concept was foreign to both of them. They needn’t rush into things more than they had. 

But Astarion and Tav had agreed that sleeping was innocuous enough. They could be together without being together. At least for the time being. 

No one in the camp seemed too surprised by the development. It had started the night of Astarion’s confession, after the events that had transpired with Gale’s spell, after the revelation of Tav’s true intentions. She had forgiven Gale for the part he had played in all of it, although that decision hadn’t had much to do with the verbose apology she’d immediately received from him. No, it was mostly due to one certain pale elf with whom she’d reentered the camp. 

She hadn’t said anything to the rest of the party when they returned. They had all seen what had happened prior to her rushed departure. She didn’t feel like rehashing it, or catching them all up to speed on the conversation that had followed. Instead she went directly to her bedroll, grabbed it by one of the corners, and dragged it determinedly toward Astarion’s tent. He was already there, waiting for her, watching her with an amused grin. She quirked a brow. 

“Care to make some room in there?” she asked him bluntly. 

Astarion curled his mouth into a lazy smirk. “Of course, darling,” he returned, drawing aside one tent flap and moving inside to begin rearranging the interior.

Tav nodded to herself before turning to glance at the other party members. They were all observing the show. Some were smiling. Some glaring. Some smirking. She met the eyes of each of them with a sort of sternness. As if to say, not one comment from any of you. 

“Goodnight, all,” she said definitively, before turning and joining Astarion in his tent. 

A chorus of goodnights floated up behind her. 

And that had been that. 

***

Tonight she woke to the sound of quiet sobs. Lying on her back, she opened her eyes blearily, taking in the ceiling of the tent. It was dimly illuminated by the light of the moon. Her senses were sluggish, absorbing her surroundings incrementally. She felt blindly with one hand, stretching it out until she made contact with Astarion’s body. His back. He had turned away from her, curled into the fetal position. She clutched him gently.

“Astarion…?” she croaked, her voice thick with sleep. 

She heard him sniffle quietly then clear his throat.  

“My apologies darling,” he replied. His attempt at a casual tone failed horribly. 

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

She heard him sigh. Then he shifted to face her. She turned her head to meet his gaze.

“It was a nightmare,” he muttered. “I hadn’t had one since you started sleeping in here, but, well… I suppose they had to resume at some point.”

“About… Cazador?” 

He opened his mouth to reply, but his lips trembled, on the verge of another sob. He nodded mutely instead.

“Oh, Astarion, I’m so sorry,” Tav whispered, her heart breaking at the look on his face. 

He merely nodded again, too afraid to open his mouth lest another wave of emotion burst forth. 

“What can I do - how can I help you?” she asked desperately. 

He just looked at her, unsure. He’d never been asked that question before. He hadn’t the slightest clue how she could help him, however much he wanted her to. 

“Astarion,” she murmured, interrupting his thoughts. “Can I…” she swallowed, uncertain. “Can I just touch you?”

He stared at her, wide-eyed. She couldn’t discern the emotion on his face. 

“Not in that sort of way. I just… well, my mother used to use this trick when I was upset… her touch always calmed me… I thought it may be worth a shot” she trailed off, beginning to seriously regret her forwardness.  

Physical touch is obviously a sensitive topic for him, even if it’s not sexual. You complete arsehole! She chastised herself. He literally told you that being with someone still feels tainted. And now you go asking if you can put your lovesick little paws all over him?

“Please,” he managed in a broken whisper. His voice halted her inner cacophony of reprimands and insults. She blinked in surprise. 

Tears brimmed his eyes as he looked at her, desperation now clearly written across his face. 

She rolled onto her side, scooted closer to him. They faced each other, chest touching chest. She felt his lungs expand with a shaky breath. 

Slowly, like she would be approaching a wild animal, she raised a hand toward his face. His eyes tracked her cautious movements. But then they fluttered shut, when her index finger made a gentle sweep across his forehead. She followed the shape of one brow first. Then the other. Smoothing out the distress, stroke by stroke.

“Such strong brows,” she murmured. He jumped a little in surprise at her voice, his eyes opening to observe her. She gave him a gentle smile. “It’s all right,” she soothed. 

“They’re darker than your hair color, you know. Still silver, but more like the steel of a sword,” she continued. His eyes slipped shut once more. She thought she caught the slightest tremble of his lips. 

“And they’re quite expressive. This one,” she tapped his left brow lightly, “always quirks up when Gale says something absurd. Which is often.” 

Astarion huffed a laugh. His cool breath smelled of mint as it washed over her face. 

“And they both furrow when Wyll goes all noble Blade of Frontiers on us.” She drew a faint line down the middle of his forehead, over the bridge of his nose. He gave her a tiny smirk. 

“But my favorite. My favorite is how they raise up when you’re delighted. Or when you laugh… your whole expression changes. And those brows lead the charge.” 

She traced the line of his nose again. “And this nose. So noble. Regal, but not austere. A patrician’s nose. It suits your face perfectly,” she smiled at him, though he couldn’t see. 

She swiped delicately over his cheeks, noting how his eyelids fluttered slightly. “High cheekbones. Sharp enough to cut yourself on. Absolutely gorgeous alabaster skin,” she sighed. “Sculptors couldn’t replicate your likeness if they tried.”

Her index finger dipped to his mouth. He swallowed thickly as she traced his upper lip, then the lower. 

“A very pleasing mouth, even if it does utter the most deplorable things at times,” she teased softly. 

He released a true bark of laughter at that. She could see his fangs glint in the moonlight. But then he quieted, a silent request for her to continue her ministrations. 

“Full lips, a perfect cupid’s bow,” she went on. “Utterly swoon-inducing, as I can attest.” 

She moved down to his chin, tracing the point of it before grazing back and forth across his jawline. 

“Strong jawline and chin. Makes you look quite powerful. Someone who should be paid attention to. Listened to.” He hummed in approval of her commentary. 

Her hand slid up to his ear, tracing the tip of it, the elegant point. He shivered slightly but kept his features schooled, his eyes still shut. 

“And these ears. Beautifully pointed. Elegant. Refined.”

Then she carded her hand through his hair. 

“These curls. Simply gorgeous. Silver, like the moonlight. They almost glow at night when moonbeam touches them. They always look perfect, even in the midst of battle.” He sighed as she massaged his scalp lightly.

“But my absolute favorite…” she whispered after a moment, but then stopped. She moved her hand to cup his cheek. 

Astarion blinked his eyes open, curious as to why she had stopped. 

“There they are,” she smiled. Her thumb lovingly grazed the hollow under his eye. 

“These beautiful eyes. Deep burgundy. They hold so much emotion. So much levity. And sorrow.”

She noted the tears that welled in his eyes once again as she spoke. 

“They say eyes are the windows to the soul, you know,” she continued. “Which means I’m seeing such a beautiful, rare soul who lives inside. Marvelous. Incomparable.”

A tear finally fell, plopping onto the pillow beneath his head. Tav gently wiped away the others on his cheek that were racing to follow their leader. 

“It’s a privilege to see you,” she finally whispered, smiling softly at him. “A privilege, Astarion. Thank you.”

A quiet sob wrenched from him. He lurched forward to bury his face in the crook of her neck. He clutched her waist desperately.

She held him there. Curled her arm around him. Palmed the back of his head. Held him tight enough to feel protected. Loose enough to know he could break away. If he wanted to. If he needed to.

Eventually, she felt his breathing even out. His inhales and exhales became those of a slumberer. His body relaxed, muscles released from their tension. She continued to hold him, curled as he was into her body. She kissed the top of his head. Her lips remained there as she breathed in his scent. 

She fell asleep like that. Locked in his embrace. Surrounded by the comforting smell of bergamot. 

***

He hadn’t liked being touched. Physical touch had been reserved solely for the job, per Cazador’s command. It was hard to enjoy something when the only time he had experienced it was while doing something so awful as luring poor souls back to his master. 

Perhaps he had enjoyed it in his former life. But that was over two centuries ago. If that person had existed in this body, he didn’t remember them anymore. 

But Tav was changing that. 

For perhaps the first time in his long, long life he understood what it meant to be touch-starved. The concept had been so foreign to him when he used to hear the bards croon about it in the city squares. Or when reading the drabble that poets had peddled around the Baldur’s Gate artisan guild. 

But now, lying here with Tav, he felt he understood those lovesick fools a bit better. She had lulled him to sleep with those blissful caresses. Those touches that asked for nothing. That only gave him everything. 

She had awoken something in him, he realized now, in the pale hours of the morning. Something long-buried, something that desperately needed that unassuming affection she gave to him so freely. It was like opium, in the best of ways. It had soothed his pain. Had left only peace in its wake.

They had shifted in their slumber together. He was now on his back, with Tav curled into his side. Her legs and arms were banded around him, tangled in him.

And he… didn’t mind? Didn’t mind at all. In fact, it felt rather amazing. Her warmth radiated into him, creating hotspots in the places her limbs touched. Like his own personal sun. 

He stared up at the ceiling of the tent, lost in thought. One hand caressing up her arm, down her waist. Again and again. 

***

The tent was getting brighter with morning sunlight when Tav began to stir. She felt Astarion’s hand caressing her skin. The sensation had her humming in delight.

“Hello, you,” he murmured into the crown of her head, sensing she was awake. He planted a chaste kiss there. 

“Good morning,” Tav garbled through a yawn. She both felt and heard Astarion chuckle. Then he squeezed her waist firmly.

“Thank you. For last night,” he murmured. “It was a gift.”

“Of course,” she said simply, though the words were filled with affection. She wanted to say more, to tell him she would do anything for him, to promise a thousand touches if it pleased him. But she didn’t want to overwhelm him. He didn’t take grand expressions like that very well. She’d learned that after promising they would defeat Cazador and free him.

And, she reminded herself, bombarding him with affection was not the way to ensure he would stay with her. As much as she cared for him, she didn’t want to fall back on old ways of trying to prevent someone from leaving her. She had told Astarion that she had her own demons she wrestled with. Insecurity was chief among them.

She settled instead on telling him a truth. Vulnerability in exchange for vulnerability. 

“I like you touching me like that,” she murmured, feeling a certain shyness about the confession.

Astarion hummed his own approval, continuing to trail his fingers across her skin. “Is that so, darling?”

He became more intentional with his movements. She felt him graze her collarbone, the curve of her shoulder, the dip of her waist, the small of her back. His fingers slid delicately across her skin, painting the places of her body he could reach with his cool touch. 

Tav moaned in approval, snuggling up closer to him and closing her eyes once more. “It feels lovely.”

He couldn’t have agreed more wholeheartedly. Touching her felt almost as wonderful as when she’d had her hands on him the night before. And that, within itself, was an incredible revelation.

“It really does,” Astarion agreed after a beat of silence. He smiled faintly to himself. “It really does.”

[chilled-ice-cubes]

on sunday & the dreammaster // sunday's parallels with aventurine

the dreammaster's relationship with sunday is actually extremely fucked up and uncomfortable when you look at it as a whole:

when the siblings find the charmony dove, he tells robin that her idea of simply building a nest for the dove is "idealistic" and prods at sunday until sunday finally says that he wants the bird to live no matter what, even if it's in a cage.

ages are vague in star rail, but at least from the ~vibes~ sunday gives off (+ robin is referred to as a "young songstress" at one point), i think we can say that sunday was probably pretty young when he was made the bronze melodia. gopher wood is the dreammaster, the leader of penacony—and he's okay with making his orphaned foster son, who was p much already displaying trauma responses as a child (the immediate conclusion that "the dove's parents abandoned it", saying he has no dream and simply following what robin says her dream was) listen to the confessions of the sinners of the dreamscape? sunday being appointed as bronze melodia is the direct triggering event that leads to him losing faith in the harmony.

the dreammaster telling sunday about robin getting shot and almost dying—this is such a strange way to tell your adopted son that his sister was in mortal danger. "perhaps as a reward for her consistent deeds of harmony" its all just rather passive-aggressive and manipulative; definitely aiming to be the nail in the coffin for sunday's faith. if robin, the ideal advocate of xipe, can't be protected while doing charity... then what is the path of harmony even worth?

the most damning part of course is sunday's final conversation with the dreammaster, where the dreammaster references robin, basically sets down an ultimatum for sunday that one of the siblings must follow the path of the order and fulfill the plans they've set in motion till now. by now sunday's relationship with the dreammaster is much colder than it was in the two flashbacks about the bird and robin's gunshot wound—he clearly doesn't fully trust him anymore, but at the same time he has lost all hope and believes only in the path of the order that the dreammaster personally set him on.

the two excerpts below basically summarise sunday for me—"someone has to stay awake in the sweet dream" // "we sleep because we are afraid to awaken from our sweet dreams." firefly admits that sunday is a pessimist who feels deep compassion for all; he creates the sweet dream paradise using the order's power because he genuinely believes it will enable everyone to live their best lives.

the interesting thing is, a rejoinder to sunday's thesis of: "people sleep because they are afraid to wake up from their dreams" was already given in version 2.1, through aventurine's character arc and the conclusion he comes to during his conversation with acheron. i've already talked about sunday and aventurine's surface parallels here, so i'd like to focus specifically on their views about "dreams" in this post.

acheron and aventurine agree that people sleep because they are not ready to welcome death, and are preparing themselves for their inevitable ending—ratio adds that it is impossible to be "dormant" in the dreamscape. this is directly contrary to what sunday wants. sunday rejects that inevitable death, and wants to create a stagnant, safe, paradise in a cage for everyone. a macrocosm of what he wanted to do with the charmony dove as a child all those years ago.

version 2.1 and version 2.2 directly build upon each other, especially through sunday and aventurine's character arcs. you would imagine that aventurine, who has constantly suffered, is terrified of death and not really a big fan of living as his life was atm, would be exactly the sort of "weak" person that sunday wants to build a paradise to protect. but as he goes through his journey in 2.1, we see that he comes to an entirely different conclusion from sunday. he decides to keep moving on, so that he can make his parents proud when he meets them again at the end of his journey. sunday, meanwhile, loses all hope and quite literally falls from grace. still, robin catches her brother at the end; there's still hope for him.