#i cannot understate how much I can’t stop thinking about these two

[n3arell-art]

“I thought this lantern might help?” // “No version of this where I didn’t come get you, is there?”

[world0fmadness]

UNDER A NORTHERN SKY

gylve “ fenriz ” nagell x reader

♡ more general dating headcanons for fenriz!

୨୧ i’m still not completely better yet and i probably won’t be until my period comes to an end but i felt more up to writing today so i got this done, hope you like it anon <3

♡ requested by anon | view my metal masterlists here and here

reading music recommendations: memories and dreams by steve gabry - sons of northern darkness by immortal

♡ please let this man ramble to you about really obscure and unknown bands!

୨୧ he is just so so so passionate about music and bands, he could talk your ear off about it for hours if you let him

♡ and if you talk back to him instead of just listening? oh he’s in heaven…

୨୧ nothing feels better to him than a partner who both actually listens to him and gives him their opinion on things!

♡ even if you have a differing opinion to his on a subject, he’s very respectful towards it and actually likes discussing it with you and understating why you think differently

୨୧ he gets extra talkative when he’s high, holy moly does he go off the rails with his conversations when he’s high…

♡ you two will be cuddled up on the couch or in bed, sharing a blunt and the only thing that stops him from talking is when he’s taking a puff! he cannot be quiet, with how much he talks and the weed, his mouth always gets insanely dry so you usually give him your water after he’s finished his

୨୧ i can see him really liking a hamster as a pet…

♡ you guys were probably just walking home from a bar one day when he saw it through the pet store window, staring out at him with those tiny beady eyes and he immediately halted in his step causing you to do the same as your hands were intertwined

୨୧ he doesn’t even give you a response when you ask him what’s up and why he stopped walking so suddenly, only tightening his grip on your hand and dragging you towards the pet store with that goofy smile on his face

♡ it didn’t take long for you guys to reemerge from the pet store with all the supplies you need and fenriz holding the small box containing your new child

୨୧ he holds the box up to his face almost all the way home, talking to the hamster and smiling at it through the air holes

♡ yeah, he loves it so much! he always has the hamster in his hands or letting it crawl all over him as sits on the couch and you laugh whilst watching, not to mention the hamster ball? he thinks they’re so fucking funny for some reason

୨୧ watching the hamster move around the room in a little plastic ball just tickles something in his brain and he can’t get over it, you’ve caught him just staring down at the fast moving ball with a huge smile on his face and the most contagious laugh leaving his mouth every few seconds

♡ he absolutely does not smoke around the hamster!

୨୧ at first he was a little grouchy he’d have to go to the window to blow smoke out but anything for his tiny rodent child and their health

♡ to be honest, he doesn’t even really like smoking in the house at all now that you have the hamster!

୨୧ so most of the time, you both just go outside for a smoke! he’ll pull you down onto his lap whilst sitting on a chair with an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips, letting you light it for him as he strokes your back

♡ when you go to bars together, if you’re sat across from him, he always plays footsies with you…

୨୧ he literally cannot help it, there’s just an urge inside of him to have a foot war with you all the time when you’re across from him and he takes it so seriously with a big smile on his face

“ shit! you’re getting better… still not good enough to beat the almighty fenriz though! ” ( seriously, he has really strong feet )

♡ maybe this is just projecting but i bet fenriz absolutely loves horror games!

୨୧ he could play them for hours on his ps1 and ps2, letting you cuddle up next to him and play with his hair whilst he plays resident evil or silent hill

♡ if you’re interested in what’s happening in the game, he’ll definitely pause the game and give you a lengthy rundown of the story

୨୧ he pauses because i feel like he would want to give you a good explanation and doesn’t feel he can properly do that when trying to focus on the game too, so he pauses it and puts the controller on his lap before turning to you

♡ i feel like there’s a chance he probably really likes mmo games like diablo and world of warcraft too… please, supply him with food, drinks and some love and support whilst he’s raiding

୨୧ get this man the world of warcraft cookbook for his birthday and he’ll be so over the moon about it, cooks one of the recipes every week with you

♡ i think after a long while of you guys dating, he’d probably get a tattoo dedicated to you!

୨୧ it wouldn’t be huge and it wouldn’t be flashy or obscene! most likely, it’d just be your name or some reference to you like your favourite type of flower or something referencing your first real date together

♡ huge bonus points if you have / aren’t opposed to getting a tattoo and get a matching one with him!

୨୧ if it’s your first ever tattoo, he’s so in awe of you! you’re getting your first ever tattoo and it’s matching with him? a reference to him too? arghhh, it’s nearly enough to make him cry but he chokes it back, just being extremely happy about it instead

♡ he holds your hand during the whole process, squeezing three times to signal a silent “ i love you ” whilst talking to you about everything and anything, just trying to distract you from the pain as he strokes your hair with his free hand

“ you’re doing so well, you know that? taking it like a champ, baby… damn, even i did worse than you for my first tattoo! ” ( that makes you laugh a little which causes him to flash that gorgeous smile at you )

୨୧ he’s so proud of you when it’s done too! giving you a flurry of kisses on your head and definitely taking you to get some food after, whatever food you want!

♡ okay, this part is just super self indulgent but if fenriz ever found out you had never but really wanted to pet a sheep, he’d be all over that for you

୨୧ you’re telling this man you want something so simple and easy and sweet but you’ve never been able to do it for whatever reason? get out of here, he’s making it happen as soon as he possibly can for you

♡ and he does make it happen, probably by just paying a local farmed some lump of money after a semi awkward interaction

“ well… i don’t know, man… my girlfriend just wants to stroke some sheep, so how much is that? like, can i pay you to let her do that? why she wants to do it isn’t important, just tell me how much ” ( he probably got ripped off so bad and definitely knows it but whatever, if it’s for you it doesn’t matter but he will stink face the farmer a little )

୨୧ he takes so many pictures and videos of you with the sheep, acting like a facebook mother but with a shitty disposable camera and handheld camcorder… truly ahead of the curve

♡ if you’re not from norway and take him back to your home country to meet your parents, i can see him being such a suck up to them

୨୧ kidding, of course! but your mother just absolutely loves him, she thinks he’s adorable and thinks you made a great choice with him

♡ he’s really relaxed and talkative the whole time he’s there, he didn’t care if your parents didn’t like him or not, it wouldn’t stop him from dating you and loving you

୨୧ but luckily they do like him and he thrives when your mother is showing him all of your childhood pictures, looking at them with a big goofy smile on his face whilst cracking jokes

♡ he absolutely wants to get a little down and dirty in your childhood bedroom, he’s jumping on the bed and wiggling his eyebrows as soon as he steps foot in there <3

[grand-theft-carbohydrates]

[here's a joke i cut out of my 3 Kingdoms fic, thought yall might enjoy it]

"What's this story about war and plums?" Liu Bei asked, "sounds interesting."

"Oh, just an amusing trifle." Cao Cao replied "Shall I tell it?"

"I'm all ears!"

��Two years ago on this very month, our supply lines were routed and my men were forced to march many li without food or water. After two days of this hardship, their throats became parched and their spirits low. Listlessness and disorder began to spread throughout the ranks. To motivate them, I pretended to sight an orchard of plums from atop my horse and promised them fruit and water aplenty when we reached it.”

He had also threatened to behead anyone caught deserting—along with two other men selected at random from the same squadron. It put a swift stop to the whinging, and the soldiers kept a close, paranoid, eye on each other, after that. 

“I can’t imagine your men were much pleased when they discovered there were no plums waiting for them after a long trek,” Liu Bei mused. “How did you placate them?” 

“By then my supplies had been restored,” Cao Cao shrugged. “Men don’t keep grudges half as well with a full belly and a double-ration of wine.” 

“Even so, they’ll remember it. People don’t like to be deceived, even if it’s for their own good.”

Oh, this was rather rich coming from the man who’d built his entire cause around an unverifiable royal bloodline. 

“Out of curiosity,” Cao Cao said pleasantly, and it was genuine curiosity, “—please do not be afraid of offending me, but what would you have done in my place?” 

 “I’d kill my horse and order my officers to do the same,” Liu Bei answered “that should yield enough meat for a half a day’s march. We’d continue on foot with the men.” 

Cao Cao could barely contain his disbelief. “It will demoralize the men to see their Commander on foot, walking amongst them like a common soldier!” 

“It will show their Commander is willing to share their burden.” 

“Your officers would mutiny if they suffered such ignominy!” 

“No, they would—Hang on, Mengde, what does ‘ignominy’ mean?”

Cao Cao blinked, totally thrown. “It… means to be dishonored or humiliated.” 

“Oh, I see,” Liu Bei nodded. “Well, they’d have nothing to complain about because I’ll be suffering it right alongside them.”

“Wishful thinking! People will—” 

“How do you write it?” Liu Bei interrupted. 

“What?” 

“How is ‘ignominy’ written?” 

Cao Cao stared at him, equal parts irritated and flabbergasted, half-convinced that Liu Bei was fooling with him, but the man looked totally sincere—and let’s face it, he didn’t exactly have the most illustrious education—Cao Cao pinched the bridge of his nose and said. “The first word is comprised of the ear-radical and ‘heart,’ the second word is ‘day’ on top of ‘inch.’” 

“Ear-radical and heart?” Liu Bei grinned, “that’s an easy one to remember.” 

“One would think so…” Cao Cao muttered under his breath. 

“Pardon?” 

“You really don’t know how to write ‘ignominy?’” Cao Cao said, out loud.

“Don’t look so shocked, Brother Mengde, I spent the first fifteen years of my life weaving mats and shoes. You could fill novels with the words I don’t know.” 

----------

^ this is me in every chinese conversation btw. "How you say/ How you write/ What this word mean? ect ect "

I think the inherent comedy of a conversation between "the most influential poet-statesman of his dynasty" vs "the guy who only had one year of formal education" cannot be understated.

恥辱 Chǐrǔ - ignominy.

[fisshgutss]

i’m lowkey tired of this plastic surgery debate circling around. and yes i am biased because i bought my damn nose, saved up from the age of 11, got it at 17, paid for every penny. and you know what? two things can be true at once. Does cosmetic plastic surgery prey on the insecurities of mostly women? Yes, absolutely. But did getting a nose job make my life better and help me love myself? Yes, absolutely. I cannot stress enough how looking in the mirror changed for me after I got my nose job. I cannot explain enough how fitting beauty standards does change how people treat you, how you treat yourself. And they treat you better, it’s true.

I do not regret my nose job, I also spent 7 grand on it so I better fucking like it, and I was very blessed to have a wonderful surgeon who did an AMAZING job, you really can’t even see my scar, he did that good, it’s a beautiful natural looking button nose that uses the features I already had as a base. It feels like my nose now.

But! After I got my nose job I looked back and realized that I was always very beautiful. I would have never, ever, EVER been able to come to that conclusion if I did not get my nose done, i was that stuck in my tunnel vision. Getting my nose done allowed me to love myself, present and past.

I got my nose done because I could not look in the mirror without seeing my mother, I was constantly bullied by the people around me for my nose. A girl once told me the first thing she noticed about me is that I had a big nose. The way that beauty standards did influence my decision cannot be understated. It absolutely did, but it had more to do with that self hate that came from being connected to my mother. I would literally smack the shit out myself because i hated my face so much. Self hate in one form or another was why I changed myself.

I never hit myself again after I got my surgery. I stopped self harming completely.

It just really annoys me that people who have not had any kind of surgery and are never going to have any kind of work done, are the ones leading the conversation when they have not experienced what they are talking about. Looking in from the outside makes it very easy to judge. But actually it’s a very nuanced reality. Society does influence the decision, but you cannot deny the fact that a successful surgery does change the way you are treated. It is a remedy for the problem. And it does work.

And I don’t think it’s productive either to sit and say, oh well i hate the fact that everyone looks the same, you just need to learn to love yourself instead, i love big noses I think they’re so pretty and gorgeous, every time a girl with a big nose gets a nose job an angel loses its wings (that one is funny though so it’s excused) because now you are just like the people who influenced their first decision! Sure you may not like it, and society made have influenced it, but so what?

Because at the end of the day, it’s not your decision to make. it’s not your face, it’s not your body. What someone does with their body is their choice, regardless of whether it’s societally considered a good or bad moral choice. You don’t get to make the decision of how a person should feel about their body. At the end of the day, and as awful as this sounds, your voice does not matter. If someone wants to get work done and can get work done they will get work done.

I think it’s more important to advocate for people to really understand how serious of a decision getting plastic surgery is. That plastic surgery will not completely fix their self esteem, I still don’t like how I look sometimes, I still find things to pick apart. I still have to make a conscious decision to accept my perceived flaws and decide to love myself for them. You cannot fix everything, you have to learn to accept what you cannot change (without a shit ton of money). That you shouldn’t change every part of yourself to make yourself more palatable to society, learn when to stop changing yourself and just love yourself instead. Before I got my nose job I had finally started to kinda like my nose, to like my face!

We don’t live in a vacuum where plastic surgery isn’t influenced by western beauty standards and misogyny. And plastic surgery is not a good way to fix all your insecurities, you shouldn’t “have” to fix your insecurities. But we also don’t live in a reality where beauty standards don’t exist, they do. And to just deny their importance and act as if they don’t matter is sort of naive. Because again, they do fucking matter, and they matter A LOT.

tldr: stop focusing your anger on the symptom and direct it to the root cause.

[twinhood-2dot0]

What a wonderful world :)

Good morning, Alia! This is so much fun!!! I A-dore your deep dives but I hate that you keep apologizing for them? Like, why would you do that? I understand that guilt is a default emotion for you but would you please stop thinking the cool parts of you are dumb? It’s SO ANNOYING AAAAAGHH

You know what else is annoying? The way we teach math. Math is by far the most beautiful part of school life. And it is by far the most feared part of school life for several, maybe after, uh, bullying, “public” shame (i.e, within the school), public speaking, and the impending doom of the end of the world as the sun eventually engulfs us in its ever-enlargening sphere of plasma but then even the sun is engulfed soon and eventually the whole universe is engulfed and the universe dies a silent heat death.

You know, the quote from T. S. Eliot’s poem? This is the way the world ends/Not with a bang but a whimper.

Anyway, that’s off topic and also not  a common fear among kids these days. Or maybe it is but… 

Yeah, our generation is weird. But what’s weirder is this fear of math.  SO MANY HATE ALGEBRA!! If only every teacher was like Vihart and showed us that it’s all just fancy counting.

Adding is definitely counting, so is subtraction. Multiplication and division are repeated adding and subtracting so that’s also eventually counting. Exponents are repeated multiplications, logarithms is just how many times you repeatedly multiplied to get to an exponent. It’s all basically counting. And Vihart depicts this beautiful idea hilariously, as always.

Next up, trigonometry! Oh, what a beauty and oh, what a shame when all kids do is memorize the values of sines, cosines and tangents. Really, it’s just that humans realized that if you fix two angles of a triangle, the third angle gets fixed. And that means that no matter what triangle you make with those three angles, the ratio of the lengths of those sides will ALWAYS BE THE SAME! And for convenience we fixed one of those angles as a right angle, and you can switch the second angle and your ratio of sides will always be the same. 

This simple little relation helped us estimate how far a star is from us!! It helps us make musical instruments (What? Did you think the shape of a plucked guitar string and the graph of the sine function is a coincidence? Ha!) and even in oceanography. The little solutions physics and engineering use for everyday things, of course, would seem to complex without the tools of trigonometry.

That’s what math is, really. A set of tools. A language that we can use to interpret the universe. Well, actually more than that, but more about that later.

And, now, of course, we have Calculus! With the beautiful swiggly integral signs (or, as some people call it, the scary poisonous snake integral sings) and the so-tiny-they’re-almost-zero-but-they’re-not-zero “dx”s and “dt”s, sighhhhh. What a beauty 😌✨

I cannot understate how intrinsic and intuitive calculus can be if it’s taught right. It almost describes the nature of everything to me. Like, if you draw a line, its basically a continuous addition (a.k.a integration) of points. How many points are there on the line? A huge number, but you can tell when there are more points or less points - a line is longer or shorter.

This becomes clearer when you think about areas, as shown in this video by 3blue1brown.

Really calculus is, as Vihart puts it, lookin’ at slopes! Dang, they should really conisder naming math areas/courses. But then you realize, how can there be a slope at a point. There can’t be change in a single instant. There have to be two points of comparison. You can’t have a tangent of/at a point. And that’s where limits and your so-tiny-they’re-almost-zero-but-they’re-not-zero “dx”s and “dt”s come in and remind you that they’re not zero. They just are arriving, coming close to, zero. Tangents at a point on a curve don’t pass through nearby points. Slope of a point on a curve/line looks at the steepness of the region near/around the point. Change in position at an instant is based on nearby instants of time, because otherwise..

A point would be zero, having zero dimensions. But everything else - lines, areas, spaces/volumes, is made of points. That would mean there are no lines or no dimensions at all. For anything.

A car would never start moving but at time 0, you’re saying it has velocity 0. And a tiny time later would be equal to So when does it actually start moving?

I repeat, they are so tiny they’re almost zero but they’re not zero. That’s the beauty of limits.

If you wanna go deep dive into that, check out the second video in the Calculus series from 3blue1brown. 

Yeah. Well, now you might be saying, dang, math is basically philosophy. And, you’d be kinda right! It is! It’s speculative. It imagines this perfect universe. We set, like, basically one rule on it, that you can count. That 2 is more than 1 and 3 is more than 2 and so on.  And magically, on its own, there existed so many pretty things in it. We’re not so much inventing math now, than we are discovering beauties in it. I know right!!!!

And that’s what leads me to another video. And yes, it’s a vlogbrothers video, but it sums up the “discovering” I talked about and how much fun there can be in it.

Okay, Alia :) I'll read you on Sunday

RYL!! (Jeez, been so long since we used RYL, lmao!)

[bisexual-horror-fan]

"You Don't Know What This Means." Freddy Krueger X AFAB! Reader. A Commission.

Ayyy! Another comm in the bucket! So this lovely commission, was done for @freddyappreciation who gave me the go ahead to post and share this lovely work with all of you! Went with something dark, romantic, and of course, horny as hell! I cannot thank them enough, getting paid to write Freddy?! A total dream come true. 2K was what they asked and paid for but I couldn't stop with such a rad prompt and busted out over 4K! Let's no dally, here we go!

---

Rating. Explicit. Length. 4.1K. Freddy Krueger X AFAB! Reader. Warnings. Dark Fic. Dangerously Obsessive Reader. Name Calling. Degradation. Rough Stuff. Man Handling. Mocking. Teasing. Oral Sex. Blow Job. Dirty Talk. Degradation. Face Fucking. Gagging. Choking. Restrained Reader. Vaginal Fingering. Vaginal Sex. Creampie. Crying Reader. Knife Play. Fear Play. Blood Play. Murder. Begging. Boot Humping. Edging. Denial. Consensual Snuff. Death.

---

Is this what love is?

Is love cruel words and taunts muttered in the hollow of your throat while some ineffable force, heavy and chain like, holds you down into cracked and rough concrete? Is love cold steel slicing through sweat slicked flesh easier than a hot knife through butter? Is love a scarred hand with two fingers shoved so far into your mouth that you can’t stop yourself from gagging? 

Is love the way he weighs on your mind, unable to leave you? Is it called love when you cannot stop thinking about him, what he has done to you, what he has said to you. Is this love when you continue to come back to him and take the abuse and the hurt and the debasement and crave more still?

Is the thick lump in your throat and the nervous itch in your fingers, unable to stay still, along with the ever present slickness between your thighs a symptom of that funny phenomenon written about in countless books and songs? Depicted too on endless TV screens? 

Is the near obsession that has overtaken you while awake and asleep, love?

You aren’t sure what else it could be.

You’ve always heard love described as something all consuming, something fulfilling, something that makes you feel whole, complete. Love feels necessary and life changing and like you cannot live without it once you’ve experienced it, right? That’s what everyone always says anyway. 

Maybe you love what he does to you? How he touches you, rough, unrelenting, like he knows how much you can handle. He never underestimates you. He is seemingly as endlessly confident in what you can take as he is in himself. He clearly enjoys pushing your limits, making you cry, begging him, telling him there is no way you can do what he wishes, only for him to show you that yes you can and yes you will. 

Perhaps you love how he makes you feel? Not just physically, which holy fucking shit can he make you feel physically cannot be understated, but how he makes you feel about yourself. 

You adore the effect he has, the way he leaves his mark both mental and on your body, making the times that you share while you are asleep undeniable. You can’t say it didn’t happen when you look over your cut and bruised body in the dim morning light of your bathroom. Inspecting the mess of hickies, dried tacky blood and other fluids, along with fading scars from previous evenings spent tangled up with him. You feel like you don’t fully belong to yourself anymore, no, you are his and the way he claims you, hurts you, assists in you feeling this way. 

It makes you feel unsteady and off kilter, makes you feel impossibly hot, as if you are still in the boiler room long after waking, your mind feels sluggish, thick and clouded with lust and much more deep and complex feelings. 

Feelings that stir things up inside of you that are much harder to define but insanely delicious.

You cannot help being entranced by him. Totally swept up and captivated. You probably shouldn’t. He’s not human, an awful abomination, a murderer and yet here you were. Night after night begging for him. 

Ever since that first meeting where he pulled you to his realm and chased you, terrified you, nearly caught you, well you found it impossible to lock him out of your mind. It was like he burrowed under your skin and took root deep into your mind, refusing to leave or let you go.   

He taunted and teased you for a long while before he fucked you the first time but after he had you in that fashion it really ramped up. He declared you fun, worthwhile of his time and that made you feel special.

You liked being special. You liked it so much that is where your obsession truly began. Where the addiction took hold. 

Bedtime became your favourite time of day. Making yourself as enticing as possible, wearing delightful things made of silk and lace, high and low cut, excited to see what he would say, to feel him rip the flimsy garments from you and do whatever he wanted. You started going to bed earlier and earlier to see him sooner and sooner. 

You found yourself squeezing in naps when you could. Spending days off sleeping as much as your body could. 

You got so into seeing him that you had trouble falling asleep, far too energetic, mind whirring too quickly for sleep to claim you easily. 

This simply wouldn’t do. 

So you invest in as much as you can to make you sleep better, deeper, longer. Lavender lotion not only makes your skin soft, inviting his touch but promotes relaxation, lessens anxiety and makes for better sleep. You stock up on goodnight blend tea and drink it by the potful more than you do water. You don’t eat big meals in the evening. You invested in better bed sheets and a white noise machine and blackout curtains to make your bedroom the perfect space to crash hard. 

You sleep and sleep and sleep some more. Devote as much time as you can to him.

You abandon hobbies, your house falls into disarray, why clean when you can sleep? You don’t cook like you used to, ordering in, take out, frozen meals become your best friends. You also start showing up late to work, sleeping in far too much, also trying to leave early, your work suffers, mind clearly distracted and elsewhere. Thinking of him, wondering what he was doing, pouring over what you did last night and what else you hope to do in the future. 

Your boss talks to you and tries to inquire what is up with your quality of work lately, the showing up late, the sloppy appearance and you act cagey and dodge the questions, refusing to answer. You come up with lame excuses and your boss doesn’t seem satisfied but lets it go. 

You keep spending as much time as you can with him and the awful dream demon himself who you keep visiting? He finds all of this hilarious. You are devoted to him, spending all your energy and money and time on him. He loves the attention, loves how willing and ready you are, that you are broken for him. 

He taunts and mocks you over it often. 

You are on your back, head hanging off of the bed he conjured, his non-gloved hand on your throat as he continually forced his cock past your lips, over your tongue and into your tight and constantly constricting throat. You gagged, struggling to breathe through your nose. Spit ran almost embarrassingly from the corners of your stretched wide lips and down over your eyes that were squeezed shut as tight as possible. You took the abuse he gave with gusto, utterly soaked, who needs air when you have him after all? 

“You’d do fuckin’ anything for me wouldn’t you?”

You attempt to nod but another harsh thrust, the deepest so far, makes you gag so hard your back arches with the motion of it before falling back onto the bed. You writhe, your hands on his hips but you don’t push him away, you wouldn’t dare, in fact, you pull him closer. The taste of him makes your head swim. 

“Course you would. Desperate and pathetic whore.” He grits out as the grip on your throat tightens, you choke around him, swallow thickly around the head of his dick and it makes him groan. “Can feel how deep I am in here.”

He could have been talking about his cock inside or his deep hold in your mind and both would have been equally true. 

Your fingers dig into his hips, your tongue presses to the underside of his shaft, you continue to slurp and suck him messily, trying to give as much as you humanly can.

It’s a good effort but he isn’t human, you are reminded of that often and it’s part of what you enjoy so much about him. You are in a perfect headspace right now, submissive and pliable, your hips rock involuntarily, desperate for some stimulation. “So needy you gotta hump the air, hmm? You still need more attention?”

He taunted as he continued to brutally ram into your throat. You whimper weakly around his shaft and he tsks, “My cock down your throat ain’t enough for ya?”

You shake your head slightly and you feel his gloved hand touch down on your bare stomach, the sudden chill of the metal makes you jerk under him. “Greedy, greedy.” 

You feel him drag the blades up, the edges tease and you shiver, you wonder what he is planning as his hips slow but you aren’t left to wonder long. He cuts you. Breaks the skin and you cry around his cock. A deep steadying breath through your nose before continuing to suck and he laughs, he cuts again and again and while your pace falters slightly you keep on going, you keep on pleasuring him. “You’re too fuckin’ much.” He pants out.

“Here I am cutting you and you still keep sucking, still tryna hump the air too, stupid slut.” His fingers press into the fresh cuts, he makes more blood well up. You feel the hot and slick liquid run down the sides of your stomach and begin to saint the sheets below. You are sweating so much from the heat of the boiler room it stings the open wounds and it makes you cry harder as he fucks over and over into you. His groans more frequently, panting as he continues to degrade you, throbbing on your tongue. 

He’s close.

You want him to cum down your throat, you want it more than anything. You make some needy and urgent sounds and he laughs again, he cuts deeper. His thumb smoothes over the angry red lines and digs in, making you buck under him from the pain that washes over you. “You need it fuckin’ bad, dontcha?”

A shaky nod, you are crying openly, the mix of tears and drool on your face is indistinguishable from one another. Your shoulders are shuddering, hands barely holding onto him as you just take what he gives, the taste of him thick on your tongue. “Get ready-”

The gruff quality of his voice when he was so close always made you clench around nothing. You are treated to three more strong thrusts, a new cut matching each one until he pushes in as deep as he can and he cums. Mess of him draining right down your throat, you swallow around his twitching dick, pulling some amazing sounds from him for a change. 

It is far too satisfying for words as he rides out his orgasm. 

He holds inside of you until you push back on his hips, about to nearly pass out from lack of oxygen. Only then he slides out, dragging his still hard cock over your face, adding to the extra mess as he does so. “Not half bad.” He compliments as he slaps your cheek with his shaft lightly. 

The compliment is basic but you smile, warm and genuine. He calls you out on it, “Only someone as tragic and hard up for a crumb of affection as you would grin at some shit like that.” 

You feel warm. You feel happy with him. You feel like this is your place, this is what you deserve.

This is how you spend your nights with him. Being cut and your body used to fulfil his needs. 

You’d been around long enough that you get a little more than that however. 

You get a little special treatment. You get to hear about his “work” , about what he does and how he does it. You eat it up. It might fuel many a hook up. You can’t help but get aroused by the sheer force of nature he was, the power he held, the control. He took so many lives and yet he didn’t take yours because you were fun enough, fuckable enough to have around.

But one night it shifted.

He was telling you about it and the way he spoke about it made you really realise what he did. He didn’t just kill them, there was more to it than that, he took their soul. He whispered about it, low in your ear as his non-gloved hand was between your thighs, fingers buried inside you, curling over and over into that sweet spot that made you sob and quiver. He told you all the dirty details. 

Told you they became part of him.

They fed him.

Those who he killed were bonded to him, with him always, totally inseparable. 

He fucked you until you had no voice as he told you of the extreme acts of awful violence and the atrocities he has committed. You cum so hard your vision goes white, the images of slashed open throats and torsos of torn limbs, gushing red and the sound of endless screams flash through your mind. 

You thought long and hard about that the morning you woke after learning such a fact. You sat in bed, sweaty, bloody and cum covered. You lay in your messy bed, sheets pooled around your hips, staring up at the ceiling, lost in thought until you make a decision. 

You wanted that. You didn’t know what it said about you or what it meant but fuck, you wanted it.

Your life is so far gone by this point. You are about to lose your job, you are sure of it. You haven’t contacted family or friends, you don’t respond to messages and anyone who comes by you pretend you aren’t home. Your money is gonna run out fast once you lose your job. Your life in reality was dull, it wasn’t worth living, you didn’t want to be awake. Every second spent conscious was occupied with him, wanting to get back in his arms, in that damn boiler room. 

Life is meaningless and worthless when you aren’t asleep.

So why bother?

Why not give up your disgusting and shitty excuse of a life in favour of giving yourself up, fully and completely to him?

You quit your job. You leave a letter to your loved ones. You go to bed for hopefully the last time. 

You are pulled to him as quickly as ever and seeing him confirms just what you want, you ache upon seeing the outline of him in the shadows through the steam. You hear him drag those blades across old rusted metal and the sound that would make anyone else cringe instead brings you comfort, it makes you smile. 

It pushes you forward, to what you hoped would become your whole entire world, to him.

You run. You don’t stop till you are nearly crashing into him, tugging at his sweater and he laughs, “Awe it’s been what? Less than twelve hours this time? Yer actin’ like you haven’t seen ol Freddy in days.”

“Missed you. I always miss you. I hate being away.” You admitted easily, burying your face into the rough material of his sweater, inhaling deeply the scent that was so thoroughly him. He laughed, long and cruel and the debasement started again.  

“You are hardly ever awake now, always spendin’ all your time with me, is your life that sad and boring or am I just that fun to be around?”

Both. Definitely both. You had no idea how much you disliked your life until he showed up and you were made to confront the simple fact that nothing, not even reality and existence in the waking world compares to him. 

You realise you hadn’t responded yet and told him, “Both, it’s…It’s both.” You take a deep breath before pulling back, looking up at him, fingers tangled in the sleeves of his sweater. “Actually uhm, about that Freddy. I was wondering about something…”

“What’s that?” He asked and you continued, “I was wondering about what you said the other night, about killing and taking people's souls, is all of that true?”

He clicked his tongue, a shake of his head, “Course it’s true, what do you think I do when I’m not fucking you stupid?” He presses on, “And what do you think this is for?” 

His gloved hand meets your hip and drags up, sharp blades tease through thin silk and you shiver. “Think it’s a damn fashion statement?” 

“No, no Freddy, I figured you actually murder but the souls thing, do they really become like…Part of you?” You asked softly. 

“Why all the questions? Usually I got my cock balls deep in you by this point.” He teased, pressing closer to you, sharp blades brushing the side of your neck. He had a point, normally that is how it would be. 

You should be honest, lay it all out, with a hard swallow you say, “I want you to kill me.”

The air shifted in the boiler room so severely you could feel it. “What?”

You respond in an instant, leaving you on a rushed single exhale, “I want you to kill me.”

You are shoved into the wall so roughly, it hurts, you groan from the pain, eyes wide with shock, his gloved hand is on your throat. He leaned in closely, lips brushed against your ear as he asked in that deliciously gruff voice of his, “You want me to kill you?”

“Ye-yes.” His grip tightens a fraction and you bite your bottom lip before adding on, “I-I want you to take my soul, I wanna be here forever, with you.” 

He pulls back, his eyes boring into yours, he jerks you against the wall, it hurts and steals some of your breath as he chokes you harder. “Oh you dunno what you are asking for you little bitch.” 

Yes you did. You thought long and hard about all of this, you craved it more than you were currently craving oxygen to breathe properly. You wanted him, wanted to give up everything to be here. You try to convince him. You nod as much as you can, squeaking out, “Ye-yeah I know what M’ askin’ for.”

“No. You really don’t. If I do this it won’t be what you’re thinkin’ it’ll be.” His tone was dangerous, sharp, just like the blades of his glove. “You won’t be you anymore, won’t be an individual, you’ll just be part of me-”

You struggle to say, your hand gripping his wrist, “I-I don’t care! That’s what I want! I want it, I want you, please, please-” 

He practically purrs at this. “Someone begging me to kill them is new. M’ always used to havin’ to chase people and take what I want.” He leans in closer, his lips almost an inch from yours. “Having you offer it up so willingly?” 

His glove loosened, dragging down your body, making you arch into him, “S’ got undeniable appeal.” 

“So you’ll do it?” You asked, impossibly hopeful. 

“Yeah I’ll kill ya.” He hummed and you couldn’t restrain the soft moan you let out at that, positively delighted at the prospect. “Such an eager victim.”

You were, you really were. 

His non-gloved hand was on your body now, feeling you up greedily, “Such a good body, so fun to torment. Damn shame it’s gonna go to waste.”

You loved when he was complimentary like this. “How about one last fuck before I tear you to shreads?”

Naturally, you jumped at the chance. 

You revel in it. You soak up every last bit of it, every touch, and bite, every grope and harsh word. You moan and write and pant, you give yourself over fully knowing that you are all his, that he wants you, is going to keep you. 

You are high on pleasure and on pain and on him. You are made to choke on his cock, grinding yourself on his boot, leaking embarrassingly over the well worn leather, mocking you all the while. “Humping my boot to try and get off? You’re totally hopeless.” 

You were. You moan around him and buck harder, your nails biting into your thighs as you stare up at him, pushing him deeper into your mouth. He waits until you are close to cumming before he pushes you down. Thin silk nightgown is cut from your body, torn away and tossed aside. 

He forces you onto your knees. Non-gloved hand pushing your head down, making it so your cheek is pressed to the wet grit covered floor of the boiler room. His gloved hand is splayed on your lower back as he slides inside. You moan, eyes falling closed and he sets a punishing pace. Your fingers dig into the floor so hard it hurts. You buck back into him, crying out for him, absolute bliss as he slams into that sweet spot that makes stars appear behind your closed lids. 

The blades bite into your back, it hurts, you bleed and you sob. He spreads the mess of scarlet, he licks up the salt and iron and groans in kind. He fucks you nearly dumb, you are a panting and incoherent mess but he doesn’t need words to know when you are close. Your cunt is tightening up, leaking like a faucet, you can’t stop shaking, soaked in sweat and he knows you are on the edge. 

It’s time. 

His fingers thread in your hair and he tugs, he pulls you up hard, hips never slowing, he grits out into your ear, “Ready?”

“God, yes, yes! Ffffuck, M’ cumming-” You gasp and he feels it. Your walls clamp down on him, body tightening up, and the second you tip over his glove slides up your back and hooks around your throat. With perfect precision and practised ease the sharp tips dig in and break the skin and he pulls hard. He rips and slices through your throat easily, skin splits and blood pours down your chest and onto the floor between your hands. You weren’t expecting it to be like this.

You weren’t expecting it to hurt so much. You can’t make much sound, he cuts deep and once he starts he doesn't stop, your vocal chords are wrecked, you make weak and wet gurgling sounds as you choke on your own blood. You are aware he is saying something to you but you can’t make it out, mind clouded, between the biggest orgasm of your life and the sensation of death creeping in, you can’t focus or understand the words. 

There is one thing you do recognize through the haze. The faltering of his own hips, then pressed full and deep, warmth, burning hot spreading inside. Your body is feeling so cold so fast, even in the heat of the boiler room, you feel yourself fading, life leaving you. 

You are dying from the hand of this monster, the same one who’s responsible for your pleasure, the same one who chained you to him, drove you to think this was a good idea. 

You are dying and it’s all because of him and here he is, cumming inside of you one last time, getting off on the brutality of it so explicitly. He pulls out and your body is flowing from both ends, blood spilling from the large gash that used to be your throat and his cum from your well abused cunt. 

His hands release you and you fall to the floor, he is no longer touching you and you die then and there, him watching over your body. 

The pain is as inhuman as he is. It is indescribable agony. You didn’t think this is how it would be. He tried to tell you. Tried to warn you. Yet you didn’t listen. You thought you’d be like a pet, a plaything, kept in his realm for him to use and abuse. You thought you’d be fucked day in and out and have no worries or responsibilities. 

It’s not that.

There are others here, you can’t tell where you end and they begin. He was right, you are no longer you, no longer a separate entity, you are a mix, a writhing, incorporeal mass of pain and suffering along with the other souls he has taken and consumed, part of what fuels him.

And even still, this is what you wanted right? Even if you didn’t really know this is how it would be, this is what you asked for all the same.

So we come back to the same question we started with. Is this what love is? 

Only now you have a sure and definitive answer, one that dominates the reminder of your form, one that is burned into the very core of your essence. 

Yes. 

It is. 

[ddarker-dreams]

Yan Diluc, Childe, Kaeya & Zhongli / Darling Saying “I hate you.”

Warnings: Suggestive themes and typical unhealthy yandere behavior. Note: sometimes in life we just gotta suffer,

Diluc had told himself that this was for your own good.

That’s what gave him the ability to rest at night -- while holding the knowledge of all the freedoms he’s taken from you -- that you are safe. There’s air in your lungs, healthy color to your cheeks, and life shining brightly in your eyes. It’d be selfish to ask for anything more, he would reason. This is good enough, is what he’d think, not fully sure if he believed the creed himself. 

Now he knows those words were but a lie to cover a gaping wound in his heart.

He gazes at you now, his hand reaching out, only to stop when you flinch away. The reality that he tried so desperately to push down has risen to the surface, your turmoil not easily ignored. Diluc needs to remain steadfast as he considers hesitation an insult. Certainly, he is low for holding you here against your will, but it’d be that much worse if he started questioning himself. 

“I know,” is the strained answer he arrives at. You hear the pain in his voice, how the words were all but pried from him. “I’ve always known.” 

“Then why?” You plead, exasperation pushing you past the limit. His head is hung low for once, unable to meet your scrutinizing gaze, instead taking an acute interest in the wooden floorboard beneath his feet. 

It brings him back to his childhood, like a kid being scolded for an illogical grievance against their sibling. Your question strikes deep and close to the heart. His answer comes fast, almost robotic, as if he’s practiced it in the mirror countless times.

“For your safety.”

And so you won’t leave like everyone else has.

Exchanging thinly veiled antagonism behind the guise of banter has always thrilled Childe. This game the two of you play, he wouldn’t change it for the world, deriving too much satisfaction in your flustered reactions. Every day is spent thinking about when he’ll get to see you next, what words might bring out the cutest expressions. 

The manner you deliver the line is frigid and he can’t help but be reminded of  Snezhnaya’s climate. For a fleeting moment, it stings, like snowflakes against bare skin. If there’s anything Childe excels at, it’s warding off the cold. He laughs, once, twice, face illuminated with uncanny elation. 

You watch in disbelief as he treats your honest admission as nothing but a joke. There’s nothing you can think to say to describe the frustration that grows in the depths of your soul, Childe’s response encapsulating exactly why you said it in the first place. Half of you considers leaving him where he stands, but you know better, he’d follow after you relentlessly. A Fatui Harbinger’s ability to spot and track their prey cannot be understated.

When his laughter starts to settle down, he speaks. “So the truth comes out, hm?” 

Childe stalks towards you, sporting a wolf-like grin that sends shivers down your spine, every step you take back not enough to increase the space between you two. Eventually, your back hits the wall. Childe takes advantage of your lack of escape, taking your chin in his hand and placing his arm by your head. At that moment, it’s impossible to ignore the looming height difference, though he leans down to look at you closer.

“Hate me all you want,” he hums, his voice dipping lower with each syllable. “But I’m not going anywhere, ever, so keep that in mind. And who knows?”

Childe winks at you.

“Maybe I have a thing for being degraded.”

To be looked at with suspicion is nothing new to Kaeya. Everyone has their own reasons for doing so, whether it be to his cunning nature creating suspicion, or his country of origin. Though, he admits, your reasoning is far more personal than that. After all, his schemes have sent you into a whirlwind of misfortune. 

Kaeya moves back, observing how your chest rises and falls with each labored breath, the way you refuse to look him in the eye. He’s quietly grateful that your former entangled position didn’t grant you the ability to see his face, as shock undoubtedly must’ve crossed over it. Moment’s later, he’s collected, in control of every twitch and crease of his expression. 

“Hm, while I never excelled in my linguistics tutoring, I think I’m familiar enough with the word hate to draw a different conclusion,” Kaeya nods to your discarded clothes on the floor, to which you flush even brighter than before. “Is that what you’d call this? You were throwing yourself at me just a few seconds ago, y’know.” 

He’s getting under your skin on purpose. You know this, seeing the trap he’s laid out without even trying to hide it, yet still fall for it to defend yourself.

“Where else am I supposed to go, when no one even looks me in the eye anymore?” You challenge, wiping the saliva from your lips with the back of your hand. Kaeya hums, considering your inquiry, fingers rubbing circles into your skin as he does so. The contact makes your mind hazy, being deprived of physical contact having done a toll on you. To come to him for comfort is a blow to your pride.

“Your hand could’ve always helped with that, but you still chose mine.” Kaeya smiles, ducking down to press open-mouthed kisses against your neck. You decide not to honor him with any further response. It feeds into his ego and that’s the last thing you want, so you close your eyes and sigh. 

He pauses for a brief moment, not willing to let it go. “Not that I’m complaining, of course. I’ll always find a way to make time for you.” 

Zhongli places his cup of tea down onto the table, outward reaction schooled and giving nothing away. It’s a pathetic, last-ditch attempt to earn an emotional response, even you know this. From how he whispers archaic prose into your ear about his love and adoration for you, you were expecting at least... something. A frown, furrowed eyebrows, pain in his amber eyes. Anything. 

His visage remains unchanging. You drum your fingers against the table, narrowing your eyes and jutting your bottom lip out. It took you weeks to work up the courage to tell him this! Indignation and embarrassment blossom inside your chest, threatening to suffocate you. Any other time he’s talkative, but for some reason, he’s decided to take some vow of silence now. 

You perk up expectantly when he clears his throat. 

“It was never in the terms of our contract for you to have positive feelings towards me,” Zhongli decides, raising the cup to his lips and blowing. “Though, if I might add, I would personally like it if you did.” 

Maybe it would’ve been better if he stayed silent after all. There’s no validation to be found in his taciturn response, no substance to appease your burning frustration. The word contract sticks out like a sore thumb. Petty as it might be to continue this exchange, you feel vindicated enough to do just that.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe the correct term would be marriage, not contract.”

“Are the two not one and the same? You’ve pledged yourself eternally to be my significant other, in the same way a contract binds two parties together.” Zhongli watches how you slide down into your seat dejectedly. Attempting to start an argument with Zhongli was akin to yelling at a brick wall, you decide.

“Don’t act so proud of yourself for swindling my parents into believing you’re an upstanding person.” 

His lips quirk up for the briefest of moments.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe the term would be negotiating, not swindling.” 

You leave him to eat his breakfast alone. 

[astaroth1357]

Lucifer? I Shrunk the MC…

I thought of the title and was like, “And I’m gonna not do anything with that?” Experimenting with format. Feel this one is a hot mess but, oh well, it was fun to write and that's what I care about.

Scene: 

Satan scrambles around his room, knocking over stacks of books and flinging others this way and that. All the while he can't quite stop himself from rambling, "Okay, don't panic. I know I can fix this. I have a spellbook around here somewhere… No, not this shelf… Hold on."

Meanwhile, MC is sitting on the pillow to his bed, practically engulfed in it because they're now only 3 inches tall. The result of yet another enchanted book mishap. This time it was an old tome left on the ground that they happened to trip over. As they watch Satan shuffle urgently through his bookshelves, they sigh and prepare themselves for yet another misadventure. It took five days for the last enchantment to wear off so they may as well get comfy…

"Take your time…"

Reactions:

Lucifer

His immense displeasure about the whole debacle cannot be understated.

Honestly, why doesn't Satan take better care of his things?? He should at least try to keep the powerful items out of the walkways!

Gets into a 3 hour screaming match when he sets Satan's punishment as giving a fourth of his book collection to the school library. Fully expects to find his things "mysteriously" cursed for the next few months.

He does find tiny!MC pretty amusing though.

If he thought they were fragile and helpless before well… now they can hardly lift a fork.

Makes triple sure that his brothers understand that if they're not careful with them, punishments will be extra severe.

Quadruple sure with Mammon.

Doesn't mind carrying tiny!MC places, mostly on his shoulder.

Lets them whisper jokes and funny asides in his ear during particularly dry meetings.

Mammon

First, he laughed because this shit is funny. Not only did Satan fuck up but the MC is now the size of his index finger! He could punt them like a paper football! (not that he ever would)

Next, he immediately starts trying to figure out how to use their new size in his schemes. He's talkin' infiltration baby!

Whether or not tiny!MC goes along with his less-than-legal ideas, he sort of loves that they're so small now anyway.

1) He can carry them around on his head or on his shoulder which is just convenient AND highlights that they're his to other people even more.

2) Watching them trying to do normal things is just hilarious! They get winded from just trying to use a pencil to write a sentence on normal sized paper.

3) Will never admit it, but the feeling of their tiny little arms hugging his cheek is one of those things he never knew he needed until now.

Leviathan 

Almost choked on his drink when Mammon plopped tiny!MC on his computer desk.

It was like someone made a little figurine of them! But this one could also walk around and say nice things to him!!

A little disappointed that it's practically impossible for them to play games like this, I mean they're smaller than the controllers.

Totally makes up for it by getting them to pose with his figurines. He never thought he'd be able to get a snapshot of MC and Ruri-chan together like that! It almost makes his figure look life-sized! If only… 

Lays a pillow on his lap and lets them nap on it while he games. Can never bring himself to wake them up so he'll stay in place long past the point of being comfortable just so they can sleep soundly.

Didn't notice he accidentally knocked them over into a Beel-sized popcorn bowl (which is more like a popcorn cauldron) while they were having an anime marathon. It took five minutes to hear their little shouts and he had to fish them out. Thanked their father that Beel hadn't actually joined in that night because they may have been gobbled up….

Satan

Is really, truly, genuinely sorry that he shrunk the MC...still thinks it's bullshit that he has to give away his books though.

Tries to make up for his mistake by helping them with whatever they need. He'll take notes for them in class, prepare finger food so that they have more manageable portions, and does all the "heavy lifting" for them when he can.

Continues to assure them that the spell is only temporary but also consults Solomon and pours over as many books that he can find on the subject just to make sure. He loses a bit of sleep over this.

Is the first to step in if he feels like his brothers aren't being careful enough around them. He already feels terrible that he got them into this mess, the last thing he wants is to see them get hurt over it too.

Treats them extra gentle, like they're made porcelain, the entire time. He won't hold them with a clenched fist so he lets them sit or lounge on his palm when they travel.

Chucked Levi out a window and into a tree after he heard about the popcorn incident.

Asmodeus

Adores tiny!MC, they're so freaking cute like this!!

Takes it upon himself to help them with the more intimate things, like how are they going to bathe or change clothes??

Goes out and buys a bunch of doll furniture and tiny outfits like this whole thing won't just wear off in a few days.

Pretty much sets up a little dollhouse in his room for them to use when they just want to be around things their own size.

Takes a shit ton of pictures though, them trying on the outfits, using the furniture, just being super smol and adorable, it doesn't matter he is all over this!

Lives for tiny kisses. It's like getting brushed by a feather on your cheeks, nose, and fingers!

Beelzebub 

Would die for tiny!MC in a heartbeat and is not ashamed to admit it.

He saw them happily chowing down on a grape about the size of their head and that was it. He was done. Ready sign his life away to this bite-sized human being.

Loves to bring them tiny snacks or break off a piece of what he's eating and watch them try to eat it. All food looks so much bigger in their little hands that he briefly considers having Satan shrink him too. Belphie talks him out of it, something about the blackhole in his stomach collapsing in on itself...

Was really cautious with them at first, though, considering he was already a lot stronger than they were to start with and suddenly they got a lot more fragile. But the MC eventually assures him that they have faith he won't hurt them.

Still the most anxious of the brothers about it. He always makes sure to watch where he's going, triple check beneath his feet, and slow the pace of his eating down enough to process what goes in his mouth BEFORE it gets there.

Is also glad he wasn't there for the popcorn incident. And got Levi out of that tree.

Belphegor 

Very conflicted about it honestly. On one hand, they're too small to sleep with anymore. He could roll over and suffocate them. But on another they're just so… cute.

...And so terribly easy to mess with now. He could knock them over if he blows hard enough, never mind poking them.

One morning he was feeling particularly malicious and put their little shoes at the other end of the dining room table. That amounted to like a two-mile jog for them. He couldn’t help but laugh at their tiny fists hitting his palm when they finally got there.

After Satan cursed his favorite pillow to scream every time he put his head on it he stopped being so mean.

Made up with the MC by sacrificing some of his pillow stuffing in order to make them a tiny bed he could carry around. If he couldn't sleep with them, he could at least sleep near them.

When that wasn't enough they made him do laps around the House with Beel. It was around the time that he was about to collapse into the flowerbeds that they found Levi dangling from that tree. He'd have laughed if his sides weren't already splitting… So much... running...

[btsandvmin]

What made you like Jimin individually and Taehyung individually ? And do you have a slight preference between the two ?

I love all the members so much, and for me picking a bias is still kind of difficult. I have concluded that I do bias both Jimin and Tae but kind of switch between them at different times for different reasons. As for a bias wrecker I legit cannot choose and it changes all the time.

The way I got into BTS was through the BST MV and then trying to learn the members (the first one I learned and checked up on was Namjoon). I also got fascinated by the BU storyline as storytelling and analysis/reviews is a big hobby of mine (the fandoms I’ve been in are many, and character/story analyses/reviews/theories are something I have engaged in a lot). 

On top of that I work in the media industry and have an interest for visual storytelling as well and I got hooked by the concepts, the beautiful MV and the both story-based and symbolical clues they left. I also loved their music and like groups in general because of the interesting vocal dynamics you can create.  Basically, BTS managed to hit all my buttons and I had to look up more.

Mind you, I barely knew the members' names properly and I was already investigating the meaning of their MV and storyline. I listened to their album and loved the songs before I could tell which member was who. (Both Awake and First love made me cry without even knowing the lyrics).  I also have to mention how much I love both of Vmin’s voices, who are both very unique and interesting. I basically biased their voices before I knew who they were. (Fun or sad fact but I am really bad with faces and actually learned the members' singing voices before their faces.)

Let’s just say that I got into the music and visuals/concept first, and then started to consume material to get to know the members. They all also had incredible chemistry between each other and reminded me a lot of one of my favorite j-pop groups with their dynamics. 

What I started to watch was “get to know them” videos and recent interviews and clips, meaning from BST era. It was hard for me to not notice Jimin (even though vocal line were the ones I had the hardest time separating from each other in the very beginning). And perhaps even more so since the introduction videos tended to have a lot better and varied things to say about Jimin amongst vocal line. But even on his own Jimin simply stood out to me during the BST era when I joined. He took a lot of space in the group as a performer (especially with his high notes, his dancing, his hair and his outfits all combined) but also as an individual in off stage material. I fell for his voice and performance and the “Jimin effect” was hitting me hard. 

I also related to him a lot. I am a sort of clingy but shy person who is a perfectionist and likes being in control. I also thought he was both cute and funny without being too over the top with things like aegyo (I mean, we all know he is horrible at it when he tries to do it on purpose). I think the way Jimin is so open (though private) makes him easy to understand and relate to. He has a lot of different moods and there is an honesty in how much he shows us even though he clearly still remained in control.

As time went by, I found myself focusing on Jimin more than the other members and I realized my bias. I was simply drawn to him more than the others from the start. That in turn brings me to Taehyung... Because honestly, at the time it was impossible not to notice their closeness. And looking up a lot of old material, where Jimin was there was also Taehyung. They were very clingy and had a lot of cute interactions. One of the first things I watched of their more off-stage material was also Bon Voyage in Scandinavia (being from there myself I was extra curious) and the Vmin moments in there just cemented their bond for me.

I am not saying I only appreciate Tae for ship reasons, simply that Vmin got my attention early on and that did make me focus more on Taehyung as well. I thought as many that he was a bit odd, but very funny and playful, that he was incredibly good-looking (my opinion from the start was that JK and Tae were the most good-looking) but also a bit difficult to read. Taehyung made me want to understand him, and I was interested in him for quite different reasons than how I related to Jimin. I love him for his way of thinking and how he seems to have this innocence or happiness in the small things about him. Like, Tae getting lost in Sweden but still being happy about the small adventure, enjoying himself and stopping to blow on a dandelion might just be one of the most endearing things I have ever seen. (Honestly, another point I relate to Jimin on so much is his love for Tae and how he just makes us smile no matter what he does.)

Of course, as they change and as I get to watch them more, the more I find to love and appreciate (as well as flaws of course) and now I would say all the members are just very precious to me and I love them both for who they are on their own and for their bond as a group. It is impressive and not to be understated how rare it is to find a bond like theirs. I have seen many groups, and few are as compatible as BTS, and few seem to truly love each other the way they do.

But as for bias it will likely always be Jimin and Taehyung unless there is some drastic change.

For Jimin I love the way he dances while controlling every fiber of his body, the way he pours love into all his relationships but isn’t afraid to call people out, the way he keeps getting funnier (I think Jimin’s sense of humor is so underrated), the way he acts like an angel but actually has the whole world fooled (and he knows it), the way he shows his emotions so animatedly no matter if he gets annoyed or laughs with his whole body, the way he knows his principles and stands his ground when he believes in something, the way he works so hard to improve and better himself both as a performer and as a human, the way he thinks about things deeply and is so eloquent with how to express it, the way he is there for both ARMY, his members and even strangers because he is empathic to his core. There is a lot to love with Jimin, and he always makes sure to return that love when deserved.

For Taehyung I love the way he stand against the norms, the way he shows it’s ok to be different and embrace himself and others without judgement, the way he almost plays with us when he performs, the way he sings with such emotion and how he loves to express himself through all kinds of art forms, the way he learns and take in valid criticism but isn’t afraid to call bullshit, the way he knows when to be serious but also the importance of having fun, the way he is both the biggest dork and a fierce performer at once (I mean he can be so unapologetically silly and then suddenly switch to lethal seduction), the way his unique way of thinking opens up to new points of view, the way he can’t help but show his excitement or love for something and wants to share it with the people around him. He goes all out when he loves something and doesn’t hide his opinions when he doesn’t. Taehyung is just a very honest (though perfectly capable of lying and fooling us thank you very much) and incredible person that I both admire and adore.

There is just so much, and even small things get to me, like don’t get me started on their smiles, or even just their habits when they laugh... (how Tae usually laughs quietly but once in a while will let out these light giggles, or the way Jimin seem to automatically covers his face when he laughs).

I love them both to death (as all the members). It is not easy to just sit down and pour years of love into words, but I tried. I love them both as singers, performers, artists, and humans. I also love them as soulmates and how much they both just spread love and positivity to the people around them. The impact they have had on me, and surely many of you, is hard to comprehend. I am so lucky and happy that I decided to become a fan of this wonderful group and these wonderful people.

Phew, that was a lot wasn’t it? All opinion based, probably a bit hard to understand and not very well structured either. This is all just a flow of consciousness, and I likely forgot to mention a lot of things I could have said. Even so I hope you found it a nice read. :) Thank you for the ask.

[dramaticviolincrescendo]

Okay, what are your thoughts on Ian's relationships? With his family, his boyfriends, and Mandy (since I think that's the only friend he's had)

Oh, no. Ohhhhhhhh, no. Now you’ve done it. You’ve asked about my dear, darling favorite character on the show. My love for one Ian Gallagher runs deep, which means this answer is going to run super long. The good, the bad, and everything in between—Ian Gallagher lives rent free in my brain and always will. I derive so much satisfaction from seeing Ian interact with other people, in whatever capacity that might be. I admire and aspire to the compassion he has shown for others over the years, even and perhaps most especially those who arguably haven’t earned it. He tries so hard to be good to people, and seeing their love for him manifest when he’s reached such lows where he can’t even fathom why the love of his life would want to be with him forever? That’s powerful.

So, yeah. I said I could write essays on these characters, and that’s exactly what you’re about to get: five hours and 6k words’ worth of my thoughts. (I am so sorry. There will be text walls.)

Let’s dive into Ian’s many and multifaceted relationships—his family, his friends, and his romantic pursuits.

Ian and Family

Ian told us where he stood on this in the very first season, and it set the standard for his character for eleven years to come. Faced with a prospect that others in his position could only dream of—not being Frank’s son and having a wealthy father with a functional, prosperous lifestyle mere miles away—Ian refused to buy into it. He refused to do what might have been objectively better for his future by seeking a relationship with Clayton. In that household, he would have had access to a better public school, more financial resources, a tutor to help him where he was struggling, and less urgency for him to work so that he could enjoy being a kid. When he got sick, he would have had access to better healthcare, too. Perhaps he would have had a better shot at West Point from that background than he did at home. But that’s just it: home was with his family, and he was very clear that they didn’t live in that nice house. All he wanted—all he wanted—was to be with his brothers and sisters. He has never referred to them as only half-siblings or half-cousins; he has never even used the words, “you’re not my dad,” on Frank. That’s his family, the people he loves most in the world, and he’s always been at his best when he’s with them and at his worst when he’s not. Let’s look at each of them:

1.      Frank: It is so striking to me that Ian doesn’t appear to hold the outright contempt for Frank that Fiona, Lip, and Debbie have exhibited at different points over the years. Aside from the handful of instances where they’ve gotten into physical altercations (which Frank always initiated) and kicking him out of the house on occasion, Ian is simply indifferent to him. But there are these moments, these brief glimmers of mutual attachment and loyalty, if those are the right words. In the scene where Ian famously doesn’t count to three before using the pepper spray on him, Frank starts saying how his New Gallaghers weren’t his real kids—that Ian is his real son, and Frank is his real father. It’s a passing thought uttered while trying to manipulate his way into the house that neither of them think much of, nor does the audience…until you remember that biologically, Frank isn’t his father, and he certainly hasn’t behaved like one either. Ian has more right than anyone to comment on that, but he doesn’t because Frank is his father. He’s the father that Ian idly hoped wouldn’t come to his wedding yet sat joking about with Debbie rather than getting pissed off that he was making out with some lady in front of everyone. He’s the father who sat at the table with them eating breakfast in 11x03 and claimed Mickey was the man in their relationship without Ian saying a word to him about it, and who Ian saw no issue with taking Franny to school when no one else could. In s4, as far removed from his family as he’d been for a while, Ian still went straight to the hospital when he heard that Frank was at death’s door. We focus so much on his attitude towards Monica because of how obvious it was that we frequently miss these tiny moments and their implications. It would take an awful lot of patience, compassion, and love not to write Frank off completely after all he’s done. Not necessarily our standard definition of love between a son and his father, perhaps, but a loving soul.

2.      Monica: I have actually written a pretty lengthy post about his relationship with her because while their shared mental illness definitely plays a role in his feelings toward her, that grew complicated far earlier than his diagnosis. The first time we meet her, we see that he has a visceral reaction to news of her presence. He runs. When Ian can’t process strong emotions, that’s what he’s done in the past. I happened upon an interview Cameron did just after the end of s1 where he mentioned something I had already been thinking: Ian’s age when Monica left is extremely important. He was a kid in s1, but one who could roll with the punches, sometimes literally. She left them two years before that. Ian would have been in middle school, roughly as old as Debbie was when she still called Frank “daddy” and forgave him for everything he did. It’s an awkward age that once again set Ian in something of a danger zone—too old to accept an excuse or no explanation at all, but not old enough to process the situation in a healthy way. And then she’s back all of a sudden with no warning. Ian doesn’t cry like Debbie, and he doesn’t typically get explosively angry like Fiona. He can’t deal, so he runs. He hangs back. He only speaks when he has to and compartmentalizes: Monica wants to take Liam, and they need to stop her. It doesn’t have to be about her leaving. They have a goal—he can focus on that. And then she’s back a year later, saying she’s here to stay while Fiona seems to take her at her word and Lip isn’t there to ground everyone. Ian tries so hard to behave like Lip would with his biting sarcasm and attempts to stay emotionally distant in a way that seemed pretty exaggerated for Ian, but he’s also dealing with a fresh wave of guilt over Mickey going to juvie—and Monica gets it. She’s the only person to acknowledge that he’s in pain and actively try to make it better. She’s the only one who really knows at the time, but that hardly matters. This poor kid, whose mother left him when he still needed her, has her standing in front of him and saying she’s sorry and listening when he speaks and taking him dancing—just the two of them. Embarrassing as it was and harmful as it could have been, she tried to facilitate his dreams when no one else wanted him to go into the military. She was there for him when he went AWOL. She came for him when he was arrested and even wanted to make a place for him in her new life, unrealistic as it was. This goes so much deeper than them both being bipolar. Ian’s comment about her parachuting into their lives in s7 wasn’t about Mickey or her role in them breaking up. He trusted her. He wanted her. He needed her. And she’d convinced him that she would be there—until she left. Over and over again. She was there for him and unintentionally took advantage of how desperately he still needed his mother. She made him keep loving her, and that’s both a blessing that has him crying into a voluminous man’s arms when she passes and a curse that wrecked him more than once.

3.      Fiona: The trust these two have for each other cannot be understated. Fiona has discussed things with Ian that she never brought up around any of the other kids throughout the entire series. In the pilot episode, she tells him about feeling needed and takes his opinion on the matter to heart. At the end of the season, he’s the one she talks to about the car because she can trust him to give her an answer even without speaking. In s2, she tells Lip that the two of them are her rocks, and we see that time and time again. That’s part of what makes their falling out over the church hit that much harder: it’s Ian and Fiona. The only time they’d been on the outs in any serious manner up to that point was when Ian was adjusting to his new reality and they were trying to find a balance between sister and caretaker. Otherwise, that bond of trust had never been severed—not until Ian literally sold himself only for it to amount to nothing in the end because she had no idea the lengths to which he’d gone to get that building. That damage gets mended, thankfully, but what a powerful period of time when those two were the only ones who’d never really been at each other’s throats. There is a downside to that trust, though. As I mentioned before, Ian was so responsible and put together when he was younger that Fiona didn’t think twice about his situation with Ned or that he ran away. Not even seventeen yet, and she was telling Debbie that she didn’t like his decision to leave but trusted him. That is one of the things I love about this show—even something like trust that we always prop up as an important factor in our relationships can betray us in the most unexpected ways.

4.      Lip: I won’t go into it here, but the relationship they share is something that means a lot to me on a personal level. It’s part of how I knew that Ian would become my favorite character pretty early on. The way he simultaneously admires and envies Lip, loves and is annoyed by him, relies on him and is desperate to pave his own path in the world—what a beautiful and accurate depiction of what it means to be a younger sibling. Lip is the first person to discover that he’s gay and openly accept him for it. (I think what he tried with Karen came from a well-meaning place even if it was horribly, horribly misguided.) Lip is the one who tries to get him into West Point, hate it as he does. He helps Ian when Terry is after him, takes care of him in the aftermath of the wedding when he realizes just how deeply Ian feels for Mickey, searches the whole damn city for him when he finds out that Ian is in trouble, gets him a job, leans on him in his own time of need… He’s not perfect. He slips up, just like Ian does. Some things break my heart, like Lip insisting that he’s earned his own space when his little brother is asking him for safe harbor or Ian thanking him for being his brother outside the prison. But they love each other so much, and I just… I can’t possibly put into words how much I love their dynamic.

5.      Debbie, Carl, and Liam: I’m grouping these three together because they’re further separated from Ian in age, so we see a lot of the same trends with them as a whole. Ian loves taking care of people. We know this. We also know that Fiona and Lip don’t typically want him taking care of them—they’re the ones who take care of him when he needs it, specifically Lip. With the younger three, however, Ian can be the Big Brother. He can shake his head in utter bafflement at Debbie’s obsession with holding her breath for two minutes, walk Carl through what he needs to go camping, and promise his baby brother postcards when he leaves. The difference here is that his relationship with them is so much less fraught with conflict. We don’t see him fight with Debbie, Carl, or Liam the way he has with Fiona or Lip. While Ian tends to be the voice of reason during conflicts overall, I think it’s also because he relies on his older siblings in a way that he doesn’t with his younger siblings, and the latter don’t tend to rely on him as much as Fiona or Lip as well. There’s a lack of tension in most of their interactions growing up because that pressure isn’t there. Perhaps this is where Ian’s age and standing in the family is a bit more beneficial: young enough to have people he can rely on while too young for anyone to really rely on him for more than his share of the squirrel fund.

Ian and Friends

I’ve seen it mentioned that Ian (and Mickey) not having more friends is bad or lazy writing. I tend to believe that that fails to take something into account that, admittedly, most of us don’t really have to think about: having friends is a luxury. It requires time and effort to cultivate friendships, especially lasting ones. As a kid, Ian spent a lot of his free time working or helping to manage one family crisis after another. Going AWOL, losing his health, struggling to acclimate to his illness, trying to find a new career path, spiraling into the Gay Jesus movement, going to prison, adjusting once again to normal life, getting married, a pandemic… I’m sure he’s had plenty of acquaintances over the years, but having a family to support and constant upheavals would have made it extremely difficult to really forge strong relationships with them. I think that’s part of what makes his relationship with Mandy so special and valuable to him: she’s sort of the same way.

When we met Mandy in s1, she had other friends. We saw her meet up with them and go shopping; she told Ian a story about how one was mad at her for not sharing her make-up. As the trauma in the Milkovich household reached its zenith for her in s2 and she started thinking seriously about getting out of there, we saw those friends fall by the wayside—all except Ian. He saw her and let her see him early on. That’s a level of trust and respect that nobody else in their neighborhood would have displayed, certainly not to her. But then there’s this guy who defended her against their creepy, perverted teacher and treated her like a human being, not an object. It’s no wonder she developed an obvious, unrequited crush and sought physical comfort from him occasionally. It’s no wonder she tried to repay the favor by giving Mickey a hard time in s3 and s4, misguided and rather uninformed as we know it was at the time. (It’s also no wonder that she went for the closest Gallagher to Ian, either, but that’s for another meta.)

And Ian… Ian is loyal to a fault. We have watched Ian cut out his own heart and let the blood drip down his arm to pool on the floor at his feet if it would make a damn bit of difference for the people he loves. Like Fiona and Lip, Mandy immediately accepted him for who he is and suggested an arrangement that would protect him as well as benefit her. That is enormous where they came from. To him, that had to feel like the ultimate sign of friendship: he could trust her with a part of him that he hadn’t even entrusted to most of his family yet. From that point on, she was on the List of People Ian Gallagher Would Do Anything For. Finding out about Terry and what had happened? He held a bake sale, of all things, to fundraise for her. Seeing that his brother—his best friend—was treating her like garbage? He put him in his place. Her boyfriend was beating her? He brought her home and made it his goal to find a safe place for her to stay, even if it ultimately didn’t work. She was going to move away from all of her meager support with that boyfriend? He didn’t just rally his own arguments—he brought in outside help with Lip, who he thought might tip the scales. It’s usually just a saying that true friends will help each other hide a body, but Ian literally tried to do that. Lucky for him, he has a good head on his shoulders and used it.

No, Ian doesn’t seem to have a lot of friends. We’ve seen that he has spheres of influence, if you will, and acquaintances that he can call upon when he needs them. (For example, the guys that helped with the preacher.) However, Ian has always struck me as a “quality over quantity” type of person. Being a soldier or an EMT isn’t lucrative, but they’re meaningful for someone who sees them as vehicles for helping people. Seeing more parts of the world than just Chicago has appealed to him in the past, but he seems perfectly content to carve out a spot for himself right here at home. Having only three best friends—Lip, Mandy, and Mickey—doesn’t seem like much of a hardship for him.

Ian and Romantic Pursuits

I hate to say that there were five, but from Ian’s perspective, there were. So, let’s talk about all five. Even though…there weren’t five. There was only one. We’ll save the best for last.

1.      Kash: The first of Ian’s perceived romantic pursuits that really wasn’t. I hope it goes without saying that I hate this man with the passion of a thousand burning suns. I hate him so much. However, their interactions taught me a whole lot about how kind and compassionate Ian really is—and how naïve. Of course, he would believe that Kash loved him. The man was buying him all sorts of expensive gifts, and that’s what we see on all the commercials and in so many movies, isn’t it? Grand gestures of affection through expensive gifts. Poor as they were, Ian still scraped together the money to buy him baseball tickets and CDs, convinced as he was that that was all part of what you did in a relationship. That desire to do things like a “normal” married couple in s11? Yeah, that starts here. Ian has always been a planner, and he’s always bought into certain stereotypes. We can see that here. What we can also see is Ian’s compassionate, kind, loving soul. He cares so deeply for other people, even ones that he doesn’t know very well, especially if they are living in circumstances that mean something to him. (For example, the mentally ill woman they tried to help at work and the shelter kids whose situations were so similar to Mickey’s.) Kash being a closeted gay man living in misery with a wife he didn’t love and two children he never meant to have clearly tugged at Ian’s heartstrings. Even after everything that happens, even though Ian behaves as though they’re awkward exes who just happen to work together, he still covers for Kash. He gives him that head start and takes it upon himself to break the news to Linda that he’s gone. He defends Kash to Lip when the latter finally says exactly what we all know: he was a pedophile who deserved to rot in prison for what he did. As with Fiona’s trust, Ian’s loving soul, compassionate heart, and desire for love outside his siblings are virtues that have done him harm in the past. This is one such instance.

2.      Ned: The second of Ian’s perceived romantic pursuits that really wasn’t. To be honest, I don’t believe that Ian would even characterize it that way. He seemed very aware that Ned was a distraction from his problems—from Mickey being in juvie, Monica falling into a depressive episode, the money in the squirrel fund being gone, Lip moving out, losing his shot at West Point, and getting denied for service due to his age. Again, though, Ian has always wanted to feel valued, and this rich dude was letting him stay in a fancy hotel room with anything he wanted readily available. This (disgusting predator) guy was giving him attention and a distraction with no strings attached. Then the complications roll in, and he’s once again faced with being the mistress to a closeted, married man. The difference here is that he’s not comfortable with it. He tries to tell Fiona twice, which is enormous for Ian when he has never been very good at communicating if it means burdening others with or even merely facing his own problems. But he tries to tell her. He rejects the GPS unit and tells Ned that he has a boyfriend, boxing him into a strictly sexual arrangement. (This, unfortunately, makes sense. It aligns with how Fiona viewed things: where Jimmy was concerned about it, she told him that it was “just sex.”) He is also visibly embarrassed to admit to Lip and Fiona what has been going on with Ned. By that point, Ian is a year and a half older and, while still scarred and warped in his views because of Kash, perhaps a bit wiser. Emotionally, he kept Ned at arm’s length most of the time. He used Ned not just as a distraction, but as a way to galvanize Mickey into taking their relationship a step forward. But Ian is still Ian, and Ian is compassionate to a fault. Ned played that card by asking if he could have a little understanding for a man whose life was falling apart. Sure, he can. He’s Ian, the Gallagher too empathetic for his own good at times. We know how that spirals out of control. It just goes to show that even when Ian was trying to maintain some emotional distance, his heart is simply too big and his perceptions too heavily impacted by the grooming he’d experienced with two different people by then, and so he [SPOILER ALERT] still feels enough of a connection to Ned after all these years to be mildly bothered that he passed away.

3.      Caleb: The third of Ian’s perceived romantic pursuits that really wasn’t. Ian’s relationship with Caleb strikes me as being similar to what he had with Ned. While more age-appropriate, Ian was very much using Caleb, just as Caleb was using him. That’s why it was so easy for both of them to walk away. Ian was in a difficult spot when they met. He was grateful to the firefighters who saved his life, but he had also just saved someone else at a moment when he was perhaps at his absolute lowest. That’s what he’s always wanted, isn’t it—to be a bit of a hero and help people? So, he’s understandably drawn there, first out of gratitude and then to be surrounded by very attractive gay firemen who helped people, saved his life, and invited him to be part of a function they were holding. But he made himself pretty clear from the start: he was interested in sex with Caleb. That was the draw. He still hasn’t come to terms with being bipolar and losing Mickey, but Ian has never not been with anyone for any extended length of time. That’s just who he is: he’s always sought some level of outward validation—from the army, Kash, Monica, Mickey, and so many others. We’re seeing him struggle with that now as he deals with the opportunities available to him as a mentally ill ex-con felon. So, he pursues Caleb as a distraction just like he did with Ned, only Caleb is a predator in his own right and can smell that his interest is coming from a place of weakness. He immediately (and initially unintentionally) preys on Ian’s desperate need for structure and order by insisting on a traditional date where Ian is very much out of his element and even goes so far as to instruct Ian on how to be intimate. It’s no wonder he mentions Mickey in these moments, as Mickey never wanted him to change, and Ian leans heavily (even slightly hyperbolically) into the fact that Mickey wasn’t a paragon of order and stability like Caleb outwardly appears. 

And I think why Ian puts up with it so long—being taught like a child, being used to upset Caleb’s parents, being paraded in front of his friends to make them jealous—is because he was getting something out of it too, just like with Ned. A stable place to live when their home ownership was in flux, a place away from his family when they weren’t providing the support he needed as he adjusted to his disorder, someone who validated his desires to help people regardless of their ulterior motives, and a physical distraction from his own problems. All of these parallel his relationship with Ned very closely. It was never going to last, of course. Ian is a strong person who temporarily forgot how strong he was because he forgot who he was, and Caleb didn’t want to be cared for—he wanted a project, like all of his sculptures. Being a project, being something that others see as needing to be fixed? That’s a hard no for Ian. It always has been. There’s a moment I love later in their relationship where Caleb tells him to turn off the lights when he goes out and lightly reprimands him for leaving one on the day prior. Ian is in a better place at that point, having regained a lot of his sense of self, and stares after him with indignation at being treated like a kid. He’s then lied to and cheated on, but I think that to mention those things to Caleb when they break up is to admit weakness on his own part—that he stuck with Caleb knowing that he was being mistreated, and Ian is not one to be called a victim. So, while we know from his discussions with Lip and Sue that the cheating and distrust bothered him most, he merely focused on Caleb lying about his sexuality, which removed a lot of the emotion from the situation—just like he did with Ned. It ultimately turned out to be a bad move since Caleb, being a skilled predator, made him question even his own sexuality in return, but we’re starting to see that Ian isn’t here to be someone’s toy anymore. Not an older, married man like Ned, but definitely not anyone his age either. I’m glad this pseudo-relationship happened because it showed Ian how strong he really was and that he could be in control of his own life. Sure, it destabilized him a little in the aftermath, but he worked through it. He leaned on his family, specifically Lip, who has always been his rock without the blurred lines that Fiona represented between sister/mother-figure/caretaker. Caleb is a garbage person, but Ian was the one who pulled the treasure from the trash, not him.

4.      Trevor: The fourth of Ian’s perceived romantic pursuits that really wasn’t. Trevor is perhaps the first relationship where we don’t see Ian dive in. Whether that’s because of his confusion over Trevor’s gender identity or the fact that he was really beginning to fully mature as an adult by that point (ostensibly finishing his education, getting a career, being fully self-sufficient, etc.), he tried to take his time and not jump right in. They hung out, talked around the neighborhood, and yes, engaged in some casual intimacy at the club. Again, Ian might not be in a full relationship, but he’s never without someone for long. At that point in the series, all he was missing was a relationship when it comes to traditional, “normal” goals for people to have. But Trevor posed a situation he’s never been in before since, while gay himself, Ian has never been very interested in activism or engaging in the LGBT community. It’s just not in his culture or environment, so to be faced with someone he’s interested in that challenges a lot of his views of gender and sexuality is something he takes his time with. Unfortunately, Trevor is younger than him and not quite as mature, not quite as experienced. He tells Ian he has plenty of friends and doesn’t need another, which is an ultimatum that has never really sat very well with me personally because I’m generally of the mind that if a person needs time and you really care for them, you’ll let them have that time. I’m not unsympathetic to Trevor: he’s been burned before and has his own trauma stemming from responses to his identity, so it makes complete sense for him not to be patient in this regard. He shouldn’t have to be—but then, Ian shouldn’t have to rush into anything he’s not 100% certain he wants either. That’s exactly what he does, though, because Ian does for others without thinking of the implications for himself a lot of the time. They make great friends, but they don’t make great partners. Trevor treats Ian similarly to Caleb in that he’s a bit of a project. Trevor educates him on the LGBT community and incorporates him into his ventures for the shelter without ever really showing much interest in Ian’s life or family, which suits Ian just fine because for as interested as he is in helping with the shelter and as attracted to Trevor as he is, he seems to know they’re not compatible. Ian, who has been having sex since he was far too young, takes a step back from it when they run into compatibility issues. (And pushes back on the pressure to bottom with some of his own—neither of them were in the right on that.) He doesn’t ask much about Trevor’s family or try to be part of his personal life. They sort of embody the “friends with benefits” stereotype: they hang out, they have sex, and that’s really all there is to their relationship. 

The reason Ian doubles down on trying to make it work isn’t because there was a future for them before Mickey broke out. It’s because he thinks he’s lost Mickey forever, he knows he’s lost Monica forever, and he’s not going to get the support he needs from his family when they couldn’t stand Monica and Fiona told him what he already knew to be true, namely that Mickey being an escaped convict would destroy everything Ian worked so hard for if he got involved. So, he does what Ian does. He needs that distraction—he needs to run from these strong emotions he can’t process, so he bottles them up and unfairly hopes that Trevor will provide some of that comfort after cheating on him with Mickey. (Had Mickey been released, I think they would have broken up. Instead, that was the first match Ian lit, but certainly not the last.) Now, the thing is, Trevor said at the start that he didn’t want to be Ian’s friend. He’s also younger and less mature in a relationship, which means he threw the concept of love out there prematurely, just like Ian thought what he had with Kash was love. The death throes of their relationship were a back and forth where Ian was spiraling and seeking comfort, and Trevor was providing some while keeping their relationship pretty amorphous. (Were they exes? Were they friends? Were they people who shared interests and danced around each other? Were they going to get back together? They never officially broke up—it fizzled and resurged, then fizzled for good.) Ultimately, whatever it was that they had couldn’t survive Mickey, Monica, or Gay Jesus. Trevor wasn’t prepared to deal with a full-blown manic episode, and based on his hands-off approach with involving himself in Ian’s life even before the Mickey-shaped bomb got dropped on them, it doesn’t seem like he really wanted to anyway. He did what he’s always done: prioritized his shelter, which I’m not deriding in the slightest. By that point, Ian was too far gone to care that he disappeared anyway. Had the situation been different and he was getting the support from his family that he needed, it doesn’t seem like he would have cared much there either.

5.      Mickey: Finally. Only took over five thousand words to get here. I’ll preface this with something that anyone who knows me from other fandoms is already well aware of, namely that I don’t do romance. Ever. Never been interested. The relationships I’ve always been most passionately interested in are platonic ones, especially “found families” and siblings, which is probably obvious from the other five thousand words here. Ian and Mickey are the first relationship I’ve actively shipped or written for in a fandom. They’re the first I’ve been invested in to this extent. As such, one of the biggest pet peeves I had when I first joined this fandom was the saying, “Ian fell first, Mickey fell harder.” These two wonderful dumbasses face planted on the concrete in front of the Kash and Grab in s1 and never recovered. I could go on forever about these two, but that particular wall of text would probably be too daunting for even the most avid Gallavich stan to traverse, so I’ll keep it fairly brief. As we can see above, Ian has a very strict sense of what he “should” want in a partner. Someone who is moderately successful in their chosen field, makes enough money to at least live comfortably, and typically does something that helps other people (a doctor, a fireman, a youth counselor). These aren’t passionate people. They’re not men who operate on instinct the way most of the people in his life have always had to by virtue of their social standing. They have life goals and opportunities that he envies, and Ian has a great deal of compassion for them when they hit a roadblock or things don’t work out. The amazing dichotomy of Ian Gallagher is that he straddles a line most people can’t between the rough neighborhood that has instilled in him all of his values/behaviors and the middle-class mentality of pulling yourself up by your bootstraps and aspiring to more. Ian has always aimed for what Lip said wasn’t possible for poor people: being successful without having to scam or steal. But as I said way back at the beginning of this manifesto, the South Side is his home. His family is his family. And none of the people he’s been with personify the South Side quite like Mickey—they don’t personify home like Mickey. 

And I think that’s where the initial draw for Ian is. (I’m going to focus on Ian’s side since he’s who your question focused on.) The other guys look great on paper, and Ian’s brain says that that’s what he should aim for. We know better, though. We know that Ian has an enormous heart that belongs first and foremost to his family and their home. His heart says that this person—this dirty, rude, mean, violent person—is home. His heart says this person is everything about himself that he denies having, just like Ian was everything about Mickey that the latter declined to openly acknowledge for so long. I don’t like relationships built on “making each other better.” I really don’t. The wonderful thing about this is that it’s never been that way. Ian didn’t change Mickey. He’s exactly who he’s always been, but he’s grown past the fear of his own emotions and Terry’s response to them. He’s still a thief, a con artist, violent, and rude. Mickey didn’t change Ian either. He’s still rigidly conforming to certain stereotypes of what he thinks he should want, seeking structure (to his own detriment at times), and not a great communicator. The point for them is that they complement each other, not that they make the other a better person—not even that they bring something out of each other that wasn’t already there. That’s what Ian’s other relationships did. They made him shave off his edges so that he could fit a square peg into a round hole, and that’s not happiness. It’s simply what he thought he was supposed to do—what “normal” people did. 

With Mickey, he doesn’t have to worry so much about what is normal or acceptable. He doesn’t have to worry about whether or not his life is objectively “on track,” not until fairly recently. Mickey is the only person he’s ever been with who has accepted him for who he is, faults and strengths alike, without the underlying insinuation that he should be aiming for something else or pretending to be whatever the other person needs him to be in order to care for them. Kash needed an escape—Ian provided it. Ned needed a very specific brand of toy—Ian played that role. Caleb needed a project to feel fulfilled—Ian went along with it for a bit. Trevor needed someone who accepted him as he was but did things his way—Ian did that. To care for Mickey has only ever meant being himself because all Mickey ever really needed was him. Mickey didn’t need an escape from his home—his relationship with his family is more complicated than that. Mickey didn’t need to be saved from his upbringing—it’s what made him the person Ian fell in love with and who he is happy to be. Mickey didn’t need someone to change who he is on a fundamental level because unless it is going to get him into trouble and separate them, Ian never wanted him to. (Even then, it’s about what he does, not who he is.) And yes, I’m sure that there’s a level of excitement that Ian finds exhilarating where Mickey is concerned, but I tend to believe it goes a lot deeper than that. What he finds exciting about Mickey is what Mickey embodies about the South Side—about home. About his own upbringing, but also Ian’s. About Frank and Monica, his siblings, school, work, ROTC—existing and surviving in an environment where it’s not guaranteed that you’ll have money to keep the heat on this winter or feed your family. They spent the early seasons living in a constant state of fight or flight. They couldn’t afford not to. And there’s excitement in that. Look at how many people say that the first seasons are their favorite! There hasn’t been a huge shift in the quality or direction of the writing, just the trajectory of the characters. They’ve gotten older, and their problems have been different. It’s not about survival so much of the time anymore, but those are the storylines that excite us. For Ian, that exhilaration in the constant battle of survival in their neighborhood is sewn into the fiber of his being just like it is Mickey’s. He saw his home in Mickey before they truly fell in love, and when that followed, Mickey became home.

In Conclusion

Ian has spent his entire life looking for the “right” path only to realize that it was laid before him: his family, his small circle of friends, and Mickey. I love that that is coming full circle this season, where [SPOILER ALERT] marriage has almost made him regress a bit to that place where there must be a right way of doing things going forward, and slowly but surely, we’re seeing him loosen up.

Good morning. It’s Ian Gallagher loving hours.

[armageddon-generation]

Articulating Why His Dark Materials is Badly Written

A long essay-thing with lots of specific examples and explanations of why I feel this way. Hopefully I’ve kept fanboy bitching to a minimum.

This isn’t an attack on fans of the show, nor a personal attack on Jack Thorne. I’m not looking to ruin anyone’s enjoyment of the show, I just needed to properly articulate, with examples, why I struggle with it. I read and love the books and that colours my view, but I believe that HDM isn’t just a clumsy, at-best-functional, sometimes incompetent adaptation, it’s a bad TV show separate from its source material. The show is the blandest, least interesting and least engaging version of itself it could be.

His Dark Materials has gorgeous production design and phenomenal visual effects. It's well-acted. The score is great. But my god is it badly written. Jack Thorne writing the entire first season damned the show. There was no-one to balance out his flaws and biases. Thorne is checking off a list of plot-points, so concerned with manoeuvring the audience through the story he forgets to invest us in it. The scripts are mechanical, empty, flat.

Watching HDM feels like an impassioned fan earnestly lecturing you on why the books are so good- (Look! It's got other worlds and religious allegory and this character Lyra is really, really important I swear. Isn't Mrs Coulter crazy? The Gyptians are my favourites.) rather than someone telling the story naturally.

My problems fall into 5 main categories:

Exposition- An unwillingness to meaningfully expand the source material for a visual medium means Thorne tells and doesn't show crucial plot-points. He then repeats the same thing multiple times because he doesn't trust his audience

Pacing- By stretching out the books and not trusting his audience Thorne dedicates entire scenes to one piece of information and repeats himself constantly (see: the Witches' repetition of the prophecy in S2).

Narrative priorities- Thorne prioritises human drama over fantasy. This makes sense budgetarily, but leads to barely-present Daemons, the Gyptians taking up too much screentime, rushed/badly written Witches (superpowers, exposition) and Bears (armourless bear fight), and a Lyra more focused on familial angst than the joy of discovery

Tension and Mystery- because HDM is in such a hurry to set up its endgame it gives you the answers to S1's biggest mysteries immediately- other worlds, Lyra's parents, what happens to the kids etc. This makes the show less engaging and feel like it's playing catch-up to the audience, not the other way around.

Tonal Inconsistency- HDM tries to be a slow-paced, grounded, adult drama, but its blunt, simplistic dialogue and storytelling methods treat the audience like children that need to be lectured.

MYSTERY, SUSPENSE AND INTRIGUE

The show undercuts all the books’ biggest mysteries. Mrs Coulter is set up as a villain before we meet her, other worlds are revealed in 1x2, Lyra's parents by 1x3, what the Magesterium do to kids is spelled out long before Lyra finds Billy (1x2). I understand not wanting to lose new viewers, but neutering every mystery kills momentum and makes the show much less engaging.

This extends to worldbuilding. The text before 1x1 explains both Daemons and Lyra's destiny before we meet her. Instead of encouraging us to engage with the world and ask questions, we're given all the answers up front and told to sit back and let ourselves be spoon-fed. The viewer is never an active participant, never encouraged to theorise or wonder

 Intrigue motivated you to engage with Pullman's philosophical themes and concepts. Without it, HDM feels like a lecture, a theme park ride and not a journey.

The only one of S1's mysteries left undiminished is 'what is Dust?', which won't be properly answered until S3, and that answer is super conceptual and therefore hard to make dramatically satisfying

TONAL INCONSISTENCY

HDM billed itself as a HBO-level drama, and was advertised as a GoT inheritor. It takes itself very seriously- the few attempts at humour are stilted and out of place

The production design is deliberately subdued, most notably choosing a mid-twentieth century aesthetic for Lyra’s world over the late-Victorian of the books or steampunk of the movie. The colour grading would be appropriate for a serious adult drama. 

Reviewers have said this stops the show feeling as fantastical as it should. It also makes Lyra’s world less distinct from our own. 

Most importantly, minimising the wondrous fantasy of S1 neuters its contrast with the escalating thematic darkness of the finale (from 1x5 onwards), and the impact of Roger’s death. Pullman's books are an adult story told through the eyes of a child. Lyra’s innocence and naivety in the first book is the most important journey of the trilogy. Instead, the show starts serious and thematically heavy (we’re told Lyra has world-saving importance before we even meet her) and stays that way.

Contrasting the serious tone, grounded design and poe-faced characters, the dialogue is written to cater to children. It’s horrendously blunt and pulls you out of scenes. Subtext is obliterated at every opportunity. Even in the most recent episode, 2x7, Pan asks Lyra ‘do you think you’re changing because of Will?’

I cannot understate how on the nose this line is, and how much it undercuts the themes of the final book. Instead of even a meaningful shot of Lyra looking at Will, the show treats the audience like complete idiots. 

So, HDM looks and advertises itself like an adult drama and is desperate to be taken seriously by wearing its big themes on its sleeve from the start instead of letting them evolve naturally out of subtext like the books, and dedicating lots of scenes to Mrs Coulter's self-abuse 

At the same time its dialogue and character writing is comparable to the Star Wars prequels, more childish than media aimed at a similar audience - Harry Potter, Doctor Who, Avatar the Last Airbender etc

DAEMONS

The show gives itself a safety net by explaining Daemons in an opening text-crawl, and so spends less time showing the mechanics of the Daemon-human bond. On the HDM subreddit, I’ve seen multiple people get to 1x5 or 6, and then come to reddit asking basic questions like ‘why do only some people have Daemons?’ or ‘Why are Daemons so important?’.

It’s not that the show didn’t answer these questions; it was in the opening text-crawl. It’s just the show thinks telling you is enough and never shows evidence to back that up. Watching a TV show you remember what you’re shown much easier than what you’re told 

The emotional core of Northern Lights is the relationship between Lyra and Pan. The emotional core of HDM S1 is the relationship between Lyra and Mrs Coulter. This wouldn't be bad- it's a fascinating dynamic Ruth plays wonderfully- if it didn't override the Daemons

Daemons are only onscreen when they serve a narrative purpose. Thorne justifies this because the books only describe Daemons when they tell us about their human. On the page your brain fills the Daemons in. This doesn't work on-screen; you cannot suspend your disbelief when their absence is staring you in the face

Thorne clarified the number of Daemons as not just budgetary, but a conscious creative choice to avoid onscreen clutter. This improved in S2 after vocal criticism.

Mrs Coulter/the Golden Monkey and Lee/Hester have well-drawn relationships in S1, but Pan and Lyra hug more in the 2-hour Golden Compass movie than they do in the 8-hour S1 of HDM. There's barely any physical contact with Daemons at all.

They even cut Pan and Lyra's hug after escaping the Cut in Bolvangar. In the book they can't let go of each other. The show skips it completely because Thorne wants to focus on Mrs Coulter and Lyra.

They cut Pan and Lyra testing how far apart they can be. They cut Lyra freeing the Cut Daemons in Bolvangar with the help of Kaisa. We spent extra time with both Roger and Billy Costa, but didn't develop their bonds with their Daemons- the perfect way to make the Cut more impactful

I don't need every single book scene in the show, but notice that all these cut scenes reinforced how important Daemons are. For how plodding the show is. you'd think they could spare time for these moments instead of inventing new conversations that tell us the information they show

Daemons are treated as separate beings and thus come across more like talking pets than part of a character

The show sets the rules of Daemons up poorly. In 1x2, Lyra is terrified by the Monkey being so far from Coulter, but the viewer has nothing to compare it to. We’re retroactively told in that this is unnatural when the show has yet to establish what ‘natural’ is.

The guillotine blueprint in 1x2 (‘Is that a human and his Daemon, Pan? It looks like it.’ / ‘A blade. To cut what?’) is idiotic. It deflates S1’s main mystery and makes the characters look stupid for not figuring out what they aren’t allowed to until they did in the source material, it also interferes with how the audience sees Daemons. In the book, Cutting isn’t revealed until two-thirds of the way in (1x5). By then we’ve spent a lot of time with Daemons, they’ve become a background part of the world, their ‘rules’ have been established, and we’re endeared to them.

By showing the Guillotine and putting Daemons under threat in the second episode, the show never lets us grow attached. This, combined with their selective presence in scenes, draws attention to Daemons as a plot gimmick and not a natural extension of characters. Like Lyra, the show tells us why Daemons are important before we understand them.

Billy Costa's fate falls flat. It's missing the dried fish/ fake Daemon Tony Markos clings to in the book. Thorne said this 'didn't work' on the day, but it worked in the film. Everyone yelling about Billy not having a Daemon is laughable when most of the background extras in the same scene don't have Daemons themselves

WITCHES

The Witches are the most common complaint about the show. Thorne changed Serafina Pekkala in clever, logical ways (her short hair, wrist-knives and cloud pine in the skin)

The problem is how Serafina is written. The Witches are purely exposition machines. We get no impression of their culture, their deep connection to nature, their understanding of the world. We are told it. It is never shown, never incorporated into the dramatic action of the show.

Thorne emphasises Serafina's warrior side, most obviously changing Kaisa from a goose into a gyrfalcon (apparently a goose didn't work on-screen)

Serafina single-handedly slaughtering the Tartars is bad in a few ways. It paints her as bloodthirsty and ruthless. Overpowering the Witches weakens the logic of the world (If they can do that, why do they let the Magesterium bomb them unchallenged in 2x2?). It strips the Witches of their subtlety and ambiguity for the sake of cinematic action.

A side-effect of Serafina not being with her clan at Bolvangar is limiting our exposure to the Witches. Serafina is the only one invested in the main plot, we only hear about them from what she tells us. This poor set-up weakens the Witch subplot in S2

Lyra doesn’t speak to Serafina until 2x6. She laid eyes on her once in S1.

The dialogue in the S2’s Witch subplot is comparable to the Courasant section of The Phantom Menace. 

Two named characters, neither with any depth (Serafina and Coram's dead son developed him far more than her). The costumes look ostentatious and hokey- the opposite of what the Witches should be. They do nothing but repeat the same exposition at each other, even in 2x7.

We feel nothing when the Witches are bombed because the show never invests us in what is being destroyed- with the amount of time wasted on long establishing shots, there’s not one when Lee Scoresby is talking to the Council.

BEARS

Like the Witches; Thorne misunderstands and rushes the fantasy elements of the story. The 2007 movie executed both Iofur's character and the Bear Fight much better than the show- bloodless jaw-swipe and all

Iofur's court was not the parody of human court in the books. He didn't have his fake-Daemon (hi, Billy)

An armourless bear fight is like not including Pan in the cutting scene. After equating Iorek's armour to a Daemon (Lee does this- we don’t even learn how important it is from Iorek himself, and the comparison meant less because of how badly the show set up Daemons) the show then cuts the plotpoint that makes the armour plot-relevant. This diminishes all of Bear society. Like Daemons, we're told Iorek's armour is important but it's never shown to be more than a cool accessory

GYPTIANS

Gyptians suffer from Hermoine syndrome. Harry Potter screenwriter Steve Kloves' favourite character was Hermione, and so Film!Hermoine lost most of Book!Hermoine's flaws and gained several of Book!Ron's best moments. The Gyptians are Jack Thorne's favourite group in HDM and so they got the extra screentime and development that the more complicated groups/concepts like Witches, Bears, and Daemons (which, unlike the Gyptians, carry over to other seasons amd are more important to the overall story) needed

At the same time, he changes them from a private people into an Isle of Misfit Toys. TV!Ma Costa promises they'll ‘make a Gyptian woman out of Lyra yet’, but in the book Ma specifically calls Lyra out for pretending to be Gyptian, and reminds her she never can be.

This small moment indicates how, while trying to make the show more grounded and 'adult', Thorne simultaneously made it more saccharine and sentimental. He neuters the tragedy of the Cut kids when Ma Costa says they’ll become Gyptians. Pullman's books feel like an adult story told through the eyes of a child. The TV show feels like a child's story masquerading as a serious drama.

LIN-MANUEL MIRANDA

Let me preface this by saying I genuinely really enjoy the performances in the show. It was shot in the foot by The Golden Compass' perfect casting.

The most contentious/'miscast' actor among readers is LMM. Thorne ditched the books' wise Texan for a budget Han Solo. LMM isn't a great dramatic actor (even in Hamilton he was the weak link performance-wise) but he makes up for it in marketability- lots of people tried the show because of him

Readers dislike that LMM's Lee is a thief and a scoundrel, when book-Lee is so moral he and Hester argue about stealing. Personally, I like the change in concept. Book!Lee's parental love for Lyra just appears. It's sweet, but not tied to a character arc. Done right, Lyra out-hustling Lee at his own game and giving him a noble cause to fight for (thus inspiring the moral compass of the books) is a more compelling arc.

DAFNE KEENE AND LYRA

I thought Dafne would be perfect casting. Her feral energy in Logan seemed a match made in heaven. Then Jack Thorne gave her little to do with it.

Compare how The Golden Compass introduced Lyra, playing Kids and Gobblers with a group of Gyptian kids, including Billy Costa. Lyra and Roger are chased to Jordan by the Gyptians and she makes up a lie about a curse to scare the Gyptians away.

In one scene the movie set up: 1) the Gobblers (the first we hear of them in the show is in retrospect, Roger worrying AFTER Billy is taken) 2) Lyra’s pre-existing relationship with the Gyptians (not in the show), 3) Friendship with Billy Costa (not in the book or show) 4) Lyra’s ability to befriend and lead groups of people, especially kids, and 5) Lyra’s ability to lie impressively

By comparison, it takes until midway through 1x2 for TV!Lyra to tell her first lie, and even then it’s a paper-thin attempt. 

The show made Roger Lyra’s only friend. This artificially heightens the impact of Roger's death, but strips Lyra of her leadership qualities and ability to befriend anyone. 

Harry Potter fans talk about how Book!Harry is funnier and smarter than Film!Harry. They cut his best lines ('There's no need to call me sir, Professor') and made him blander and more passive. The same happened to Lyra.

Most importantly, Lyra is not allowed to lie for fun. She can't do anything 'naughty' without being scolded. This colours the few times Lyra does lie (e.g. to Mrs Coulter in 1x2) negatively and thus makes Lyra out to be more of a brat than a hero.

This is a problem with telling Northern Lights from an outside, 'adult' perspective- to most adults Lyra is a brat. Because we’re introduced to her from inside her head, we think she's great. It's only when we meet her through Will's eyes in The Subtle Knife and she's filthy, rude and half-starved that we realise Lyra bluffs her way through life and is actually pretty non-functional

Thorne prioritises grounded human drama over fantasy, and so his Lyra has her love of bears and witches swapped for familial angst. (and, in S2. angst over Roger). By exposing Mrs Coulter as her mother early, Thorne distracts TV!Lyra from Book!Lyra’s love of the North. The contrast between wonder and reality made NL's ending a definitive threshold between innocence and knowledge. Thorne showed his hand too early.

Similarly, TV!Lyra doesn’t have anywhere near as strong an admiration for Lord Asriel. She calls him out in 1x8 (‘call yourself a Father’), which Book!Lyra never would because she’s proud to be his child. From her perspective, at this point Asriel is the good parent.

TV!Lyra’s critique of Asriel feels like Thorne using her as a mouthpiece to voice his own, adult perspective on the situation. Because Lyra is already disappointed in Asriel, his betrayal in the finale isn’t as effective. Pullman saves the ‘you’re a terrible Father’ call-out for the 3rd book for a reason; Lyra’s naive hero-worship of Asriel in Northern Lights makes the fall from Innocence into Knowledge that Roger’s death represents more effective.  

So, on TV Lyra is tamer, angstier, more introverted, less intelligent, less fun and more serious. We're just constantly told she's important, even before we meet her.

MRS COULTER (AND LORD ASRIEL)

Mrs Coulter is the main character of the show. Not Lyra. Mrs Coulter was cast first, and Lyra was cast based on a chemistry test with Ruth Wilson. Coulter’s character is given lots of extra development, where the show actively strips Lyra of her layers.

To be clear, I have no problem with developing Mrs Coulter. She is a great character Ruth Wilson plays phenomenally. I do have a problem with the show fixating on her at the expense of other characters.

Lyra's feral-ness is given to her parents. Wilson and McAvoy are more passionate than in the books. This is fun to watch, but strips them of subtlety- you never get Book!Coulter's hypnotic allure from Wilson, she's openly nasty, even to random strangers (in 2x3 her dismissal of the woman at the hotel desk felt like a Disney villain). 

Compare how The Golden Compass (2007) introduced Mrs Coulter through Lyra’s eyes, with light, twinkling music and a sparkling dress. By contrast, before the show introduces Coulter it tells us she’s associated with the evil Magisterium plotting Asriel’s death- “Not a word to any of our mutual friends. Including her.” Then she’s introduced striding down a corridor to imposing ‘Bad Guy’ strings.

Making Mrs Coulter’s villainy so obvious so early makes Lyra look dumber for falling for it. It also wastes an interesting phase of her character arc. Coulter is rushed into being a ’conflicted evil mother’ in 2 episodes, and stays in that phase for the rest of the show so far. Character progression is minimised because she circles the same place.

It makes her one-note. It's a good note (so much of the positive online chatter is saphiccs worshiping Ruth Wilson) but the show also worships her to the point of hindrance- e.g. take a shot every time Coulter walks slow-motion down a corridor in 2x2

The problem isn’t the performances, but how prematurely they give the game away. Just like the mysteries around Bolvangar and Lyra’s parentage. Neither Coulter or Asriel have much chance to use their 'public' faces. 

This is part of a bigger pacing problem- instead of rolling plot points out gradually, Thorne will stick the solution in front of you early and then stall for time until it becomes relevant. Instead of building tension this builds frustration and makes the show feel like it's catching up to the audience. This also makes the characters less engaging. You've already shown Mrs Coulter is evil/Boreal is in our world/Asriel wants Roger. Why are you taking so long getting to the point?

PACING AND EDITING

This show takes forever to make its point badly.

Scenes in HDM tend to operate on one level- either 'Character Building,' 'Exposition,' or 'Plot Progression'.

E.g. Mary's introduction in 2x2. Book!Mary only listens to Lyra because she’s sleep and caffeine-deprived and desperate because her funding is being cut. But the show stripped that subtext out and created an extra scene of a colleague talking to Mary about funding. They removed emotional subtext to focus on exposition, and so the scene felt empty and flat.

In later episodes characters Mary’s sister and colleagues do treat her like a sleep-deprived wreck. But, just like Lyra’s lying, the show doesn’t establish these characteristics in her debut episode. It waits until later to retroactively tell us they were there. Mary’s colleague saying ‘What we’re dealing with here is the fact that you haven’t slept in weeks’ is as flimsy as Pan joking not lying to Mary will be hard for Lyra.

Rarely does a scene work on multiple levels, and if it does it's clunky- see the exposition dump about Daemon Separation in the middle of 2x2's Witch Trial.

He also splits plot progression into tiny doses, which destroys pacing. It's more satisfying to focus on one subplot advancing multiple stages than all of them shuffling forward half a step each episode.

Subplots would be more effective if all the scenes played in sequence. As it is, plotlines can’t build momentum and literal minutes are wasted using the same establishing shots every time we switch location.

The best-structured episodes of S1 are 1x4, 1x6, and 1x8. This is because they have the fewest subplots (incidentally these episodes have least Boreal in them) and so the main plot isn’t diluted by constantly cutting away to Mrs Coulter sniffing Lyra’s coat or Will watching a man in a car through his window, before cutting back again. 

The best-written episode so far is 2x5. The Scholar. Tellingly, it’s the only episode Thorne doesn’t have even a co-writing credit on. 2x5 is well-paced, its dialogue is more naturalistic, it’s more focused, it even has time for moments of whimsy (Monkey with a seatbelt, Mrs Coulter with jeans, Lyra and Will whispering) that don’t detract from the story.

Structurally, 2x5  works because A) it benches Lee’s plotline. B) The Witches and Magisterium are relegated to a scene each. And C) the Coulter/Boreal and Lyra/Will subplots move towards the same goal. Not only that, but when we check in on Mary’s subplot it’s through Mrs Coulter’s eyes and directly dovetails into the  main action of the episode.

2x5 has a lovely sense of narrative cohesion because it has the confidence to sit with one set of characters for longer than two scenes at a time.

HDM also does this thing where it will have a scene with plot A where characters do or talk about something, cut away to plot B for a scene, then cut back to plot A where the characters talk about what happened in their last scene and painstakingly explain how they feel about it and why

Example: Pan talking to Will in 2x7 while Lyra pretends to be asleep. This scene is from the 3rd book, and is left to breathe for many chapters before Lyra brings it up. In the show after the Will/Pan scene they cut away to another scene, then cut back and Lyra instantly talks about it.

There’s the same problem in 2x5: After escaping Mrs Coulter, Lyra spells out how she feels about acting like her

The show never leaves room for implication, never lets us draw our own conclusions before explaining what it meant and how the characters feel about it immediately afterwards. The audience are made passive in their engagement with the characters as well as the world    

LORD BOREAL, JOHN PARRY AND DIMINISHING RETURNS

At first, Boreal’s subplot in S1 felt bold and inspired. The twist of his identity in The Subtle Knife would've been hard to pull off onscreen anyway. As a kid I struggled to get past Will's opening chapter of TSK and I have friends who were the same. Introducing Will in S1 and developing him alongside Lyra was a great idea.

I loved developing Elaine Parry and Boreal into present, active characters. But the subplot was introduced too early and moved too slowly, bogging down the season.

In 1x2 Boreal crosses. In 1x3 we learn who he's looking for. In 1x5 we meet Will. In 1x7 the burglary. 1 episode worth of plot is chopped up and fed to us piecemeal across many. Boreal literally stalls for two episodes before the burglary- there are random 30 second shots of him sitting in a car watching John Parry on YouTube (videos we’d already seen) completely isolated from any other scenes in the episode

By the time we get to S2 we've had 2 seasons of extended material building up Boreal, so when he just dies like in the books it's anticlimactic. The show frontloads his subplot with meaning without expanding on its payoff, so the whole thing fizzles out. 

Giving Boreal, the secondary villain in literally every episode, the same death as a background character in about 5 scenes in the novels feels cheap. It doesn’t help that, after 2x5 built the tension between Coulter and Boreal so well, as soon as Thorne is passed the baton in 2x6 he does little to maintain that momentum. Again, because the subplot is crosscut with everything else the characters hang in limbo until Coulter decides to kill him.

I’ve been watching non-book readers react to the show, and several were underwhelmed by Boreal’s quick, unceremonious end. 

Similarly, the show builds up John Parry from 1x3 instead of just the second book. Book!John’s death is an anticlimax but feels narratively justified. In the show, we’ve spent so much extra time talking about him and then being with him (without developing his character beyond what’s in the novels- Pullman even outlined John’s backstory in The Subtle Knife’s appendix. How hard would it be to add a flashback or two?) that when John does nothing in the show and then dies (he doesn’t even heal Will’s fingers like in the book- only tell him to find Asriel, which the angels Baruch and Balthamos do anyway) it doesn’t feel like a clever, tragic subversion of our expectations, it feels like a waste that actively cheapens the audience’s investment.

TL;DR giving supporting characters way more screentime than they need only, to give their deaths the same weight the books did after far less build up makes huge chunks of the show feel less important than they were presented to be. 

FRUSTRATINGLY LIMITED EXPANSION AND NOVELLISTIC STORYTELLING

Thorne is unwilling to meaningfully develop or expand characters and subplots to fit a visual medium. He introduces a plot-point, invents unnecessary padding around it, circles it for an hour, then moves on.

Pullman’s books are driven by internal monologue and big, complex theological concepts like Daemons and Dust. Instead of finding engaging, dynamic ways to dramatise these concepts through the actions of characters or additions to the plot, Thorne turns Pullman’s internal monologue into dialogue and has the characters explain them to the audience

The novels’ perspective on its characters is narrow, first because Northern Lights is told only from Lyra’s POV, and second because Pullman’s writing is plot-driven, not character-driven. Characters are vessels for the plot and themes he wants to explore.

This is a fine way of writing novels. When adapting the books into a longform drama, Thorne decentralised Lyra’s perspective from the start, and HDM S1 uses the same multi-perspective structure that The Subtle Knife and The Amber Spyglass do, following not only Lyra but the Gyptians, Mrs Coulter, Boreal, Will and Elaine etc

However, these other perspectives are limited. We never get any impression of backstory or motivation beyond the present moment. Many times I’ve seen non-book readers confused or frustrated by vague or non-existent character motivations.

For example, S1 spends a lot of time focused on Ma Costa’s grief over Billy’s disappearance, but we never see why she’s sad, because we never saw her interact with Billy.

Compare this to another show about a frantic mother and older brother looking for a missing boy. Stranger Things uses only two flashbacks to show us Will Byers’ relationships with his family: 1) When Joyce Byers looks in his Fort she remembers visiting Will there. 2) The Clash playing on the radio reminds Jonathan Byers of introducing Will to the song.

In His Dark Materials we never see the Costas as a happy family- 1x1’s Gyptian ceremony focuses on Tony and Daemon-exposition. Billy never speaks to his mum or brother in the show 

Instead we have Ma Costa’s empty grief. The audience has to do the work (the bad kind) imagining what she’s lost. Instead of seeing Billy, it’s just repeated again and again that they will get the children back.

If we’re being derivative, HDM had the chance to segway into a Billy flashback when John Faa brings one of his belongings back from a Gobbler safehouse in 1x2. This is a perfect The Clash/Fort Byers-type trigger. It doesn’t have to be long- the Clash flashback lasted 1:27, the Fort Byers one 55 seconds. Just do something.

1x3 beats into us that Mrs Coulter is nuts without explaining why. Lots of build-up for a single plot-point. Then we're told Mrs Coulter's origin, not shown. This is a TV show. Swap Boreal's scenes for flashbacks of Coulter and Asriel's affair. Then, when Ma Costa tells Lyra the truth, show the fight between Edward Coulter and Asriel.

To be clear, Thorne's additions aren’t fundamentally bad. For example, Will boxing sets up his struggle with violence. But it's wasted. The burglary/murder in 1x7 fell flat because of bad editing, but the show never uses its visual medium to show Will's 'violent side'- no change in camera angle, focus, or sound design, nothing. It’s just a thing that’s there, unsupported by the visual language of the show

The Magisterium scenes in 2x2 were interesting. We just didn't need 5 of them; their point could be made far more succinctly.

In 2x6 there is a minute-long scene of Mary reading the I Ching. Later, there is another scene of Angelica watching Mary sitting somewhere different, doing the SAME THING, and she sees an Angel. Why split these up? It’s not like either the I Ching or the Angels are being introduced here. Give the scene multiple layers.

Thorne either takes good character moments from the books (Lyra/Will in 2x1) or uses heavy-handed exposition that reiterates the same point multiple times. This hobbles the Witches (their dialogue in 2x1, 2 and 3 literally rephrases the same sentiment about protecting Lyra without doing anything). Even character development- see Lee monologuing his and Mrs Coulter's childhood trauma in specific detail in 2x3

This is another example of Thorne adding something, but instead of integrating it into the dramatic action and showing us, it’s just talked about. What’s the point of adding big plot points if you don’t dramatise them in your dramatic, visual medium? In 2x8, Lee offhandedly mentions playing Alamo Gulch as a kid.

I’m literally screaming, Jack, why the flying fuck wasn’t there a flashback of young Lee and Hester playing Alamo Gulch and being stopped by his abusive dad? It’s not like you care about pacing with the amount of dead air in these episodes, even when S2’s run 10 minutes shorter than S1’s. Lee was even asleep at the beginning of 2x3, Jack! He could’ve woken from a nightmare about his childhood! It’s a little lazy, but better than nothing.

There’s a similar missed opportunity making Dr Lanselius a Witchling. If this idea had been introduced with the character in 1x4, it would’ve opened up so many storytelling possibilities. Linking to Fader Coram’s own dead witchling son. It could’ve given us that much-needed perspective on Witch culture. Imagine Lanselius’ bittersweet meeting with his ageless mother, who gave him up when he reached manhood. Then, when the Magisterium bombs the Witches in 2x2, Lanselius’ mother dies so it means something.

Instead it’s only used to facilitate an awkward exposition dump in the middle of a trial.

The point of this fanfic-y ramble is to illustrate my frustration with the additions; If Thorne had committed and meaningfully expanded and interwoven them with the source material, they could’ve strengthened its weakest aspect (the characters). But instead he stays committed to novelistic storytelling techniques of monologue and two people standing in a room talking at each other

(Seriously, count the number of scenes that are just two people standing in a room or corridor talking to each other. No interesting staging, the characters aren’t doing anything else while talking. They. Just. Stand.) 

SEASON 2 IMPROVEMENTS

S2 improved some things- Lyra's characterisation was more book-accurate, her dynamic with Will was wonderful. Citigazze looked incredible. LMM won lots of book fans over as Lee. Mary was brilliantly cast. Now there are less Daemons, they're better characterised- Pan gets way more to do now and Hester had some lovely moments. 

I genuinely believe 2x1, 2x3, 2x4 and 2x5 are the best HDM has been. 

But new problems arose. The Subtle Knife lost the central, easy to understand drive of Northern Lights (finding the missing kids) for lots of smaller quests. As a result, everyone spends the first two episodes of S2 waiting for the plot to arrive. The big inciting incident of Lyra’s plotline is the theft of the alethiometer, which doesn’t happen until 2x3. Similarly, Lee doesn’t search for John until 2x3. Mrs Coulter doesn’t go looking for Lyra until 2x3. 

On top of missing a unifying dramatic drive, the characters now being split across 3 worlds, instead of the 1+a bit of ours in S1, means the pacing/crosscutting problems (long establishing shots, repetition of information, undercutting momentum) are even worse. The narrative feels scattered and incohesive.   

These flaws are inherent to the source  material and are not the show’s fault, but neither does it do much to counterbalance or address them, and the flaws of the show combine with the difficulties of TSK as source material and make each other worse.

A lot of this has been entitled fanboy bitching, but you can't deny the show is in a bad place ratings-wise. It’s gone from the most watched new British show in 5 years to the S2 premiere having a smaller audience than the lowest-rated episode of Doctor Who Series 12. For comparison, DW's current cast and showrunner are the most unpopular since the 80s, some are actively boycotting it, it took a year-long break between series 11 and 12, had its second-worst average ratings since 2005, and costs a fifth of what HDM does to make. And it's still being watched by more people.

Critical consensus fluctuates wildly. Most laymen call the show slow and boring. The show is simultaneously too niche and self-absorbed to attract a wide audience and gets just enough wrong to aggravate lots of fans.

I’m honestly unsure if S3 will get the same budget. I want it to, if only because of my investment in the books. Considering S2 started filming immediately after S1 aired, I think they've had a lot more time to process and apply critique for S3. On the plus side, there's so much plot in The Amber Spyglass it would be hard to have the same pacing problems. But also so many new concepts that I dread the exposition dumps.

[obligatory-shirt]

I just finished watching the last season of the Clone Wars and I have some things to say about it. Mainly me gushing abt how Anakin and Ahsoka's relationship was done but be warned: spoilers ahead, so go away if you don't want those (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*.✧

I will preface this by mentioning that I am one of many siblings, with multiple younger and older siblings, so I have some sense of what it feels like to be the older sib and the younger one.

First thing that i went hecc yeah at was when Ahsoka called Anakin her older brother in I think s7e5, Gone with a Trace. Looking at how they are there for one another and especially how f i e r c e l y Anakin defends Ahsoka during the last arc of season 5, there is no other word that could describe their closeness. That intense, roaring platonic love they hold for one another is utterly undeniable.

My biggest talking point is s7e9, Old Friends Not Forgotten. This is the episode we've all been waiting for where Anakin and Ahsoka finally meet up. The sheer joy and amazement at seeing Ahsoka again renders Anakin speechless. There is so much he wants to ask, so much he wants to know, so much he knows he's missed. Most of all? He's missed her. Her company, her wit, being able to see her every day and just have her around. The security that came with her presence and that friendship was lost when she left the Jedi order, but now that she's come to him? There's nothing more he wants to do than to assure her happiness and her security.

Ahsoka comes to the ship, and due to the circumstances, Anakin cannot truly talk to her for a short while. Once business is out of the way, however, Anakin pulls out all the stops because Ahsoka is his little sister and there is nothing he won't do for her. A similar level of comraderie could be extended to Captain Rex and the men of the 501st—just look at their helmets, for crying out loud. Think about how much time and care was put into painting all their helmets in Ahsoka's honor to celebrate the return of the life of their crew.

Anakin, though. His little sister's come back. He's been holding onto her lightsabers and he can hardly wait to give them to her, to see the look on her face when she gets them. While I was watching the episode, I half expected that Anakin would have to give Ahsoka the case with the lightsabers and run off, but I was so happy when he took the time to present them in person. Not only does he arm her, he ensures that the reason she came to him and Obi-Wan does not go dismissed. Anakin bends the rules to help her in such a way that she won't be held responsible, should anything go wrong.

Anakin gives Ahsoka Captain Rex.

This cannot be understated. Rex is Anakin's closest friend, second only to Obi-Wan (he's married to Padme so she doesn't quite count, and feck Palpatine, honestly). All matters of friendship aside, Rex is one of the most skilled clone troopers in the Republic Army. He's the leader of Anakin's troops for a reason, so with an impending battle, Anakin should in theory have his Captain with him. Instead, he sends Rex with Ahsoka.

Only with Rex can Ahsoka legally operate as commander, though it's Rex who holds the rank. Anakin cares so much about Ahsoka that he's willing to give her his best friend and captain of his troops. (It is worth noting that Rex and Ahsoka are very close as well, and another reason Rex went with Ahsoka was to give them more time to catch up, but that's for another rant.)

Another point for the powerful sibling bond between the two: Anakin does all this without a second thought. btw

Now, look at the events of the next few episodes, largely focusing on Ahsoka's response to Maul's prophecies and visions. When she first hears about him wanting Anakin, one of her main concerns is making sure her older brother is alright. Someone is plotting and Anakin could get caught in it so she needs to know that he's okay, that nothing's happened to him. Time and time again she asks after him, wanting to speak with him. While I know narratively Ahsoka cannot interfere because we know Darth Vader, it still hurts every time she tries to talk with him and either can't reach him or just barely misses him.

In the final episode, Maul shows Ahsoka what Anakin will do and is doing, the darkness he will fall into, and it shakes her. The majority of the episode is based around the execution of Order 66, so we don't get to see much of Ahsoka ans Anakin's relationship manifest itself until the very end.

I kid you not, I sat reeling after the episode ended. Holy. Feck.

Ahsoka and Rex, after burying the clones who died in the crash, look out at the makeshift graveyard, and Ahsoka holds one of her lightsabers, the shorter of the two that Anakin gifted to her, loosely in her hands. It teeters forward, the balance lost, but Ahsoka holds it on the edge of her fingers for the briefest of moments before letting it fall to the ground, and she leaves. Maul showed her what mistakes Anakin would commit, and that s h a t t e r e d her faith in Anakin. This second lightsaber Anakin gave her, she can't hold onto. For lack of a better phrasing, it's too painful.

From a different perspective, Ahsoka might not know the full extent of what Anakin will become. Perhaps she assumes that Anakin died with the execution of Order 66 and leaves the lightsaber at the graveyard in memory of him. He was her brother, after all, and she'd want to do something to honor his memory.

The next scene shows us what looks like Hoth, a vast area ridden by a blizzard, snow billowing across the field. Darth Vader crosses the snow to stop before a crashed Imperial warship, an orange trooper helmet in the snow. The distinctive pattern of the helmet make it unmistakable: this was the warship Ahsoka was on when Order 66 was given. Leaning down, Vader brushes aside snow to dig out a lightsaber. Turning it on, he stares at it.

This. This was Ahsoka's lightsaber. Is she dead? Did she survive? He has no way of knowing. Anakin has lost his wife, his limbs, his brother—everything he held dear, and now, he has lost his precious little sister as well. She's gone, whether escaped across the galaxy or buried somewhere beneath the snowdrifts. With resignation and sorrow, There is no turning back now, he supposes, turning to the sky as if she'd be there sitting in a starship. Everything Anakin Skywalker had is gone. Only Darth Vader remains. He turns off the lightsaber, and walks away, leaving a damaged clone helmet, the front of it painted orange and white in the image of someone Vader no longer knows, behind him in the cold, unforgiving snow.

[darth-schism]

Evidence to Suggest that Luke was NOT all that he seemed in TLJ

Luke Skywalker may have isolated himself because of his guilt/depression. But I also believe he did it for practical reasons, and that his “totally given up” act, was just that, an act. Evidence for this Head-cannon/interpretive take:

1. He made a map to his location

Not only that, but it was so specific, it was literally called “The Map to Skywalker.” The only way it would have gotten a name as tailored as that is if someone else had found him before Rey, or, if he told people about it himself. In any event, to whatever varying degree, Luke wanted to be found and/or influence the galaxy around him.

One piece of the map was  tossed around to all sorts of corners of the galaxy, while the rest of it was entrusted to R2D2. 

2. This was a deliberate combo to serve two different purposes

          - Keep Snoke distracted: The entirety of TFA was Kylo and Snoke obsessing over Luke’s location. Their preoccupation with it was evident and, instead of letting them focus on relentlessly attacking the New Republic, Luke gave them a reason to go on wild goose chases. Consider that Snoke doesn’t go ‘all in’ on trying to destroy the Resistance until after he realizes he lost the race to get to Skywalker. Which shows just how much stock he had put into that singular Jedi. What’s more, even if they had succeeded, they’d only have a useless fraction with no reference as to where in the galaxy Luke’s secret location actually was.      

          - Meanwhile, R2D2 would also play the role of a “given up/powered down” hero: But we see that, soon as the coast is clear, and some plot heroes arrive with the map, he assessed the situation, turned on, and sent them right to Skywalker. I think it’s safe to say that R2D2 was merely in ‘sleep mode,’ as opposed to ‘shut down.’ However, despite all this, the element of being powered down/unassuming was still crucial because... 

3. Snoke made it abundantly clear that when he found Skywalker, he’d blow up the entire landmass he was found, or even theorized to be, on

Luke would never put a population of innocents at risk of complete annihilation just because someone might to recognize him at a local market. So it’s no wonder he chose a place as isolated as he did (On top of that, considering his critical stance towards the Jedi Order by 28ish ABY, it wouldn’t necessarily be a heartbreak to him if the island did end up getting destroyed, or one to anyone else really, because of how obscure/unknown it was...or so he convinced himself).

4. He was picking his battles

If Luke Skywalker wanted to be found. Then why was he so dismissive of Rey? There’s no solid evidence here (aside from the whole existence of the map scheme), but I think there’s good reason to believe that Luke’s instant stand-offish behavior is one of caution and assessment not dissimilar how how Yoda and Kenobi put up an initial façade when they were discovered in exile (but more on that later). In any event, this approach would give him the means to offer personalized help to those who ended up on his doorstep. It honestly didn’t take Luke long to go from tossing his father’s lightsaber, to offering Rey the three lessons she needed to understand the force better. Although I believe Rey’s visit to Luke was far different than what others had probably been but (again) more on that later.

5. He was able leave anytime he wanted

The very clear image of Luke’s submerged X-Wing in the ocean painted a picture of cut ties, and a “no going back” stance. However, it wasn’t the first time that starfighter had been at the bottom of a water bed, and clearly it wasn’t the last. I’m inclined to believe that this is another part of Luke’s deliberate presentation of a hero who had lost all hope. But all speculation aside, there was nothing to physically stop Luke from leaving that island whenever he wanted. There’s nothing to say that he didn’t break form/character operate to find a way to undermine Snoke further.

6. He was actively protecting others close to him

There was a reason Luke getting Grogu at the end of Season 2 of The Mandalorian caused such a stir in Disney, and caused Kennedy to go for Faverau’s throat. All “who’s idea was who’s” arguments aside. At the end of the day it created two possible outcomes for this element of the Star Wars franchise: Either Grogu died in Kylo’s attack. Or there were survivors. Since killing the money making Baby Yoda isn’t necessarily on Disney’s to do list, it’s a reasonable bet that he survives the slaughter (unless he’s returned to Din’s side before Kylo goes ballistic, in which case he avoids it all together). But even if that does happen, this theory still holds a little water). Luke lying low, and operating in secret may have been the only way he was keeping himself, the galaxies citizens, and his few remaining students from getting hit with an orbital strike. 

7. He was never fully disconnected from the force.

Perhaps, somewhat disconnected, but it’s clear that Luke hasn’t cut himself off from the force as much as he, perhaps, wanted to admit. Luke is still able to effortlessly summon a weapon, keep control of the duel between himself and Rey, and gently lower his body to the ground when he loses his footing. Despite his stance on using/taking ownership of the force in TLJ, it seems as though Luke kept just enough around so that he could still fight. This theory is more optimistically minded than some of the others, but I still can’t help but think that Luke kept these reserves of power ready, because he already had to use them more than once during his supposed isolation.

8. Rey’s visit was different than the others who had come before.

“You went straight into the Dark. It offered you something you needed, and you didn’t even try to stop yourself.” 

“I've seen this raw strength only once before, in Ben Solo. It didn't scare me enough then. It does now.”

Other plot heroes/adventurers may have come, gone, or even convinced Luke to help them in secret. So assuming all, or even some, of the above is true, then that means Luke wasn’t just pushing to dismiss Rey, but also disillusion her. I think this is because Rey wasn’t there to get help with a specific mission, rescue, etc, but there to have Luke become the public symbol of hope again. And we’ve already listed the reasons why this couldn’t happen. On top of that, this push was done in a way that directly conflicted with all the “none theorized” reasons Luke had isolated himself. Luke knew he couldn’t accommodate this. He sensed the darkness in Rey. He sensed her connection to Kylo. In many ways his lessons also doubled as a means to properly evaluate Rey, and confirm his suspicions. In any event, all of this brought up an element of his isolation that no one else knew. He already had the, half truth, story as to what happened to his temple well rehearsed. But it was Rey’s visit that dragged out his greatest regret, which was his near attempt to take Ben’s life, due to both the mind bending fear Snoke had manipulated into palce, and the hypocritical, and self destructive Jedi philosophies that had been drilled in to his head. This was the final straw that made him want to destroy the Jedi texts. But it was also the push he needed to find inner peace, and think of the means to make one last public appearance, without endangering anyone.  

9. In no interpretation is Luke an attempt child killer 

This is more of a bonus point in nature. I think so many people were caught off guard by the narrative choice Luke undertook in this part of the film, that it painted the whole ordeal in a far more unfavorable light than it actually was. For starters: Ben was no child. He was 23 years old when he fell to the darkside. Luke was saw the images of planetary destruction, and the deaths of friends and family alike at the hands of an adult. But even at that, Luke’s ligthsaber had already lowered, and his face expressing that of shame and sadness, when Ben glances over, and decides to take up his lightsaber, and make the first strike. Luke doesn’t even ignite his lightsaber in response until after Ben swings it. The influence Snoke had over Ben, and the mental attack he lured Luke into suffering, to make this moment come to pass cannot be understated.   

 - This also means that Luke’s isolation lasted only 7 years. Not twenty, not even 10. Just 7. Which is less than half the time both Yoda and Obi Wan imposed on themselves.

10. He was following in the footsteps of his masters

I think Luke’s response to trauma is a little unfair in some ways. Obi Wan and Yoda witnessed genocide, and imposed exile on themselves for twenty years. Now, in film, we know that Obi Wan, while playing the part of a delusional hermit, worked to protect Luke as he grew up on Tatooine, and that Yoda, playing the part of a silly swamp kook, did...something...on Dagobah (?), waited for Luke to grow up so he could train him for a few weeks at most (?). 

Those are two pretty limited things, and yet they don’t catch near as much flack for “abandoning the galaxy to the Empire” as TLJ Luke does, after he also witnessed slaughter, and went into isolation for only 7 years. But, of course, we know Obi Wan did more during his time in the desert, and that Yoda did more during his time in the swamp. So why can’t Luke have also done more while on his island? Everything about the parallels here point to Luke, despite his own misgivings, applying what he learned from his master. All three Jedi isolated themselves because of their personal tragedies. All three greatly reduced their presence in the galaxy. But all three had no choice, and all three still did what they could despite their circumstances.    

11. Luke may have been overcome with grief. But he hadn’t truly changed

Now, I fully admit that this is a very optimistic way of looking at things. But some of these points also have more weight to them than others. I also cannot stress enough that even though I think some of what Luke was doing was an act, I also know it was equally proportional to the very real, emotional reasons, and struggles he faced. I also definitely do NOT think Kennedy/Johnson meant for any of these possible theories to have any validity to them. But with how they are presented, they also can’t be disproven. 

If Favreau doesn’t formally put the sequels in it’s own little pocket universe, then I really hope he takes the opportunity to make something like ^the above^ happen. It could easily be established in one to two episodes in a live action show. Lots of things could be done to make the sequels a more bearable set of movies to watch. And as much as I’m worried that hoping for this is simply too optimistic, at least now there is a justifiable interpretive take that has both in film evidence to support, and a lack of otherwise to refute.  

At the end of the day (and as usual) the important part here is to see that Luke hadn’t given up. Struggling, disillusioned, forced into a tough spot, willingly keeping himself scarce, etc. All bearable. But knowing he hadn’t given up is super important to the character and fanbase, so hopefully we get something that makes that cannon. In any facet really.  

AND IT WOULD GET MARK HAMILL BACK ON SET GODAMNIT! XD

*Reblogged with new gifs and information

[bonesliketambourines]

Hiya! It's the Festive Fanfic Author Ask! Drop this on or off Anon into the askbox of your favorite authors you'd like to know better: Which one of your own fics do you think feels the most You to you? Which one of your stories would you suggest to read if someone wanted to get the gist of your personality?

Hi there anon!

I got this ask twice, so I’m going to answer it in two somewhat varying ways, if you don’t mind indulging me! I’ve posted part two here.

This was a tough question, and my friends can attest that I panicked and said “what if you don’t have an actual personality and are in fact just a cobbled-together mishmash of every person you’ve ever found cool” when I first got it. But the more I looked at it, the more it made me think, so thank you for that!

First, I’d like to say that a little bit of me goes into every single one of my stories. I can honestly say that out of everything I’ve written (and that will be 50 Drarry works in 2020 once I post my December drabble, can you believe?), none of them were anything less than from the heart. That doesn’t always translate to an excellent fic, of course, that wouldn’t be realistic, but all of them are Me, at least a little bit.

In these asks, though, there are two fics I’m going to highlight, and this part got super wordy so I’m putting it under a cut; thanks to anyone who reads through to the end of my rambles haha.

The first one is just tell me when it’s alright, which was my @hd-wireless 2020 contribution. This was my second major fest fic for the Drarry fandom (and my second major writing attempt in years; I abandoned fanfic and my other fandom in 2012 and just came back to it again in 2019, and didn’t start interacting properly with fandom and writing until 2020), and I poured a lot of time and effort into this fic. It was an idea I’d had for months, but if it weren’t for @tackytigerfic pushing me to sign up for the fest, and the unending support of the friends I’ve made this year, including but not limited to @maesterchill @shealwaysreads and @p1013, it would have lingered forever unfulfilled in my mind.

This was also a pretty major fic for me in that it was written from Harry’s POV. I tend to gravitate to writing from Draco’s eyes (which I’ll address in the second part of this answer), but this story could only have been told from Harry’s perspective, and I was very nervous about that.

I love Harry Potter as a character; I always have. There’s a lot of negative to be said about the source material and the author (let me just stop here to say that TERFs are not feminists, feminism isn’t feminism unless it’s intersectional, and transphobia and any other type of bigotry is not welcome on my blog; I am fallible and make mistakes but I always want to learn, so if I’m saying or doing something wrong please don’t be afraid to message me, and if you don’t agree with my above statements please unfollow me), but the Harry Potter series did so much to enchant an entire generation of kids and get them into reading; its importance really cannot be understated, and it’s doing the series a disservice to minimize its impact.

There was a time in the HP fandom where disliking the character of Harry Potter was sort of en vogue, and I never understood that. Here we have a boy who experienced some of the very worst humanity had to offer, and came out on the other side still brave, and kind, and forgiving, and generous, and good. He was handed the shittiest luck imaginable, and he wasn’t the smartest, or the most magically talented, but because he was able to rise above it all and love he was able to triumph.

As I grow older, as I see more and more of what this world is like, and how the systems of power in both my country and others actually function, I find myself returning to the story of a boy who became a man much too soon, who was given no breaks and provided no quarter, who watched as friends and family alike died around him, and despite it all managed to do good. What a powerful message. What a powerful character. What an incredible example, for a young child growing up in the divisive environment we find ourselves in these days; a fictional hero who won not by strength, or cleverness, or outwitting and othering his enemies, but by love.

So, with all of that, how could I ever write from the perspective of this character?? I’m much better at writing from the eyes of someone who sees and loves Harry, I’d always thought. But again, this story necessitated being told by Harry, and so I had to do it.

I probably spent more time thinking about this fic than I did writing it. I agonized and stressed and worked myself into a lather about how I was going to make it live up to the idea I had in my head. How, I thought, am I ever going to get such an iconic character right?

This Harry has a lot of darkness in him, a lot of sadness that, based on the comments I got, resonated with quite a few people. He’s traumatized, and he’s unaware of many parts of himself because he was never allowed to learn or to grow, and he’s still trying so hard to live up to the idealized image of himself he was confronted with the second he stepped through that archway into Diagon Alley when he was eleven. He’s not straight but he’s not gay, and he doesn’t know how to articulate what he wants or how he feels; and once he does figure it out, once things seem to settle for him, he’s suddenly up against yet another enemy to battle, but this time it’s his own mind.

Depression is an insidious, horrific thing. It slinks into your mind and crushes you down while simultaneously tricking you into thinking you’re not that bad off, and this is normal, and everyone probably feels this way, and who are you to complain after all? It slowly chips away at your joy and your purpose until you’re left surrounded by an uncleaned house and an inability to do anything to right yourself, no matter how much you want to. I don’t think it would be surprising to anyone to know that I’ve dealt with depression for my entire life, back almost as long as I can remember; I struggle with the apathy it presses into me daily, and there are days when, just like the Harry in this story, I can’t get out of bed, I can’t make my home a pleasing, calming place for me to be, and I can’t do anything but dwell on what I’ve done wrong and who I’ve done it to, and how they’re all going to leave.

There were scenes in this story that were incredibly hard to write. There are scenes that I had a hard time re-reading when I went back and revisited this story a few weeks ago. But this, more than anything else I’ve ever written, is the closest I’ve ever come to addressing my own personal demons, to articulating how it feels to be pinned in place by your own brain like that. And truly, Harry Potter himself was the only character I could ever write who would be able to fully embody this particular battle that so many of us face.

This fic has some of the sex scenes I’m most proud of, and some of the character interactions I like the best, but at its core it’s about a young adult adrift in the world, battling with his own brain and doing his best to bring himself some measure of peace and happiness. And for that, as hard as parts of this were to write (and read), I will always be thankful I was given the opportunity to publish this.

If you’ve made it this far, thank you.

[lonestarpost]

April 26, 2021~ Masterlist ~ Issue 12

Episode Review

by @lonestarbabe​

9-1-1: Lone Star’s ninth episode of season two breaks the hiatus with one of the season’s strongest episodes; in this episode,  the showrunners prioritize quality storytelling (many thanks to writer Tonya Kong), and while the episode focuses heavily on past events, it creates an atmosphere that allows extensive character development moving forward. The episode shows viewers Grace and Judd’s story, and it does so in a way that highlights their bright future and how they have built a healthy, happy future together by first creating a solid foundation for themselves. “Saving Grace” stands out because of its attention to detail and the complex dynamics it beautifully fleshes out. The episode is rooted in humanity; the characters are not perfect, but through those flaws, viewers see the power of interpersonal relationships and the ability of people to save one another in a myriad of ways.

Throughout the episode, Judd is lost, but one grounding force saves him from his demons: his wife, Grace Ryder. As the episode kicks off, Judd is a young kid joyriding with his friend. As Judd sits behind the wheel, a tragic accident causes his friend to die, and Judd is left with a wealth of guilt and self-doubt. Despite Grace being in grave danger after the accident, during the entirety of the episode, it is Judd who needs saving from the complex emotions that haunt him. When Judd is in danger, Grace is there for him, even when she is a hospital bed. Judd wants to take revenge on the drunk driver who drove him and Grace off the road, but then, Grace wakes up, and Judd comments that Grace has saved the drunk driver. Before that, before Grace and Judd have met face to face, they begin correspondence when Judd calls a Christian crisis hotline that Grace works at as she finishes school. Seeing their relationship develop over the phone shows the deep connection that the couple has, and in Judd’s darkest moments, Grace was there for him, and her voice saved him from his own self-destruction.

After reciting Psalm 31, which Judd has tattooed on his hand, Grace says, “None of us are perfect. It’s by Grace that we’re saved,” and this line expertly reinforces the themes of the episode. Just before he nearly beats the drunk driver who ran him and Grace off the road, we see Judd getting the tattoo, which shows Judd’s mindset. He is thinking about Grace and how she has saved him. Judd himself was responsible, at least in part, for somebody’s death; that guilt has made it hard for him to recover mentally, but grace has gotten him through. Even so, he struggles to extend forgiveness to the man who has hurt Grace. The reminder of his own trauma is fresh, but Judd is still a flawed, emotional person who needs tempering, and with Grace unconscious, he feels untethered. He’s back to being an angry person, who still blames himself for the death of his friend.

Judd once fought to make amends with Leigh-Ann, the mother of the kid who died in the car, and these parallels show how hard it is to forgive. But the forgiveness ultimately isn’t about giving a gift to someone who has done wrong; in this story, it is shown as a way of saving yourself. Instead of getting trapped in the bitterness, forgiveness allows the characters to heal themselves. Early in the episode, Leigh-Ann is hurt on the floor of her home; this portrayal represents how her son’s death debilitated her. She holds unto her anger, but as Judd makes amends by fixing Leigh-Ann’s fence (a white picket fence that represents the ideal American home, which has become dirty and has fallen apart since Cal’s death), and he takes a devastated property and makes it a home. After watching Judd work for a while as she recovers, Leigh-Ann finally gives Judd water, and not only does Judd make amends, but Leigh-Anne has physically recovered since we last saw her. She still has a sling on her arm, but she’s on the way to healing. Likewise, when Judd goes to see the man who nearly killed Grace, he is in the process of healing himself. He’s just gotten out of bed from his own injuries. His body is still battered, but as he backs away from the man because of Grace waking up, it marks that Judd is healing too, not just physically but he’s also learning to focus on what matters rather than the anger he feels. In the end, it is love and care that brings the character happiness, and it makes them happier to focus on the things that save them rather than what hurts them. Love, from the 126 and from Grace, keep Judd from self-destructing from his guilt and rage.

The title works on a number of levels. While it seems at first glance that the episode is about “Saving Grace” from the accident that has nearly killed her, the essence of the episode is that Grace is Judd’s “Saving Grace.” Not only that, but she is thousands of people’s “Saving Grace.” In her career, she has been a voice of reason and hope. Even when she can’t save a life, as with the astronaut in the season one finale, her voice still provides comfort and a sense of salvation to people who are hurting. It’s not just Grace that saves Judd. In many ways, Judd also sparks Grace’s own decisions. As Grace falls in love with Judd, she realizes that going to graduate school far away isn’t her calling. She doesn’t stay because of Judd, but there’s no doubt that her connection with Judd helped Grace realize that saving people was her calling. She decides to become a 9-1-1 operator, and for thousands of people, she becomes a “Saving Grace” on the other end of the line.

“Saving Grace,” is one of the best episodes of the series, and arguably, it is the most artfully written. It stands out because the details add up in a way that drives the plot and character development. It excels at showing rather than just telling the viewers the vital details of the story. Grace is an angel, and one of her greatest strengths is bringing people together and comforting them in their times of need. When she saves people, she then allows them to save countless others. Through Grace, Judd is a hero in his own right, but he is the kind that gets glory, while Grace’s role is more understated but just as important. The episode mostly focuses on Judd’s history, but when you look at it closely, the role of Grace, understated but poignant, is what stands out the most.

The Edits Edit

Some of the best edits this week that deserve all the love.

Carlos Reyes, 911 Lone Star 1.01 by @reyeslonestar is an amazing piece of fan art, and as usual, Alice is an amazing talent that we should all appreciate.

This Grace and Judd gifset by @ronenrubinstein is just WOW. I love looking at it and cannot stop!

Marjan Marwani by @alwaysablossom is soooooo pretty. I love the colors and all the details more than I can say!

SIERRA MCCLAIN as GRACE RYDER by @bucktks is an amazing edit that highlights Grace. You should also check out this one, which is equally good! Finally, take a look at this Tarlos set! (They all are amazing.)

Judd & Owen in 2x09 (Pt2) by @911dawnstar is such a well-done gifset, and I love seeing Judd and Owen being a wonderful duo. Also look at Part 1!

“We’re gonna have a new little Texan running around!” by @shoenaerts makes me swoon, and my heart can barely handle it because Grace and Judd are the definition of LOVE. This one is also beautiful.

the ryders + howdy. by @laurenkmyers makes my heart beat faster... I love it so much.

This Grace and Judd moment by @chrissiewatts makes me cry every time I see it AHHH.

These gifs by @strandtk is so amazing. I am in love with this edit! This one too!

This gif by @jessie-meili showcases Grace in the perfect way!

Group Hugs by @rafasilvas is one of my fave gifsets ever and highlights wonderful parallels of the 126 family. I’m in love.

The truth is, I think I just wanted to hear your voice. by @buckleys-diaz is soooooo dreamy and beautiful.

Fic Recs

remind us where we've been by @morganaspendragonss (hollyhobbit101)

Word Count: 564

Chapters: 1/1

“This is something, ain’t it?” Judd says, nudging Owen gently. Owen looks around Judd's backyard, taking it all in - TK and Carlos with their two kids, Judd's three milling around, their whole family gathered together in a future Owen's not sure he ever imagined even in his wildest dreams. "It's something," he agrees.

Home is wherever you are by @sixringss (buckscasey)

Word Count: 1651

Chapters: 1/1

A week after the fire, Carlos goes back to his home.Speculation for 2x12/13

Get Me off the Boat, I'm Ready to be on Land by @silvarafael (tiniestmite)

Word Count: 3966

Chapters: 1/1

Five times TK’s sobriety is tested after he arrives in Austin but he keeps it to himself, and the one time it gets so bad that he tells someone.

The Way Our Horizons Meet (chapter 1) by @chicgeekgirl89 (Writeallnight)

Word Count: 1500

Chapters: 1/3 (WIP)

Carlos' perspective through the aftermath of T.K.'s shooting. Follows the events of episodes 1x08-1x10.

You Found Me (Did You Ever Doubt I Would?) (Chapter 10) by @doctornineandthreequarters  (doctornineandthreequarters)

Word Count: 2736

Chapters: 10/? (standalone works)

Tarlos college au

[thiswasinevitableid]

A New Era of Gods and Monsters (Indruck)

Prompt for the 21st was: Monster Movie. Behold my old hollywood AU, featuring a title from the Bride of Frankenstein and a universe in which Transphobia doesn’t exist by the Hayes Code does. It is NSFW

February 20th, 1935.

Tinsel Town is abuzz with news that promising young director Joseph Stern is starting work on a new horror picture. The latest announcements from Kepler Studios state that it will rival the director's previous smash monster chiller “Nightmare Woods.” No news as of yet as to who will star, and who may be donning greasepaint and false fangs to play the creature. Only time will tell, but we look forward to whatever terrifying delights he has in store. Assuming, of course, that he does not run afoul of the censors. 

“Homoeroticism!” Stern tosses the warning from the Hayes office onto his desk, “that's what they sent me a warning about Ned! There wasn't even any in the picture.” 

“You know how these modesty police are, dear boy; they see depravity where there is none yet are so out of touch they do not recognize the very things they're afraid of when they are present. Now that you’ve been scolded, how do you wish to proceed?”

“In whatever way won’t get me fired. There's a fine line between the kind of censor uproar that drives publicity and the kind that the studio heads think is too risky.”

“As your producer, I support you entirely in whatever you choose. And I'm happy to apply my considerable eloquence to soothing the concerns of those who sign our paychecks.”

Stern flops down in his desk chair, staring at the almost complete script in a tidy stack. 

“If we’re going to gamble, the more big names I can get the better. I think it’s time to call in my favor from Amnesty Pictures. After that, well; if they’re going to complain about homoeroticism, we may as well give them something to really complain about.” 

----------------------------

A month later, Stern sits at a large table in the studio meeting room, the bulk of his cast already thumbing through their scripts and chatting quietly to one another. Some of them, such as Aubrey Little and Moira Redfeld, are contract players to Kepler, ones he snatched up for this picture before anyone could interfere. There are also two on loan from Amnesty,  a trade off for the time he and Ned worked their Hollywood contacts to help Mama, the studio head, raise money to fund the film that put the studio on the map. 

His own relationship with Mama’s right hand man, Barclay, who acted as their go-between in those early days, may have helped his case. 

The first player on loan is Dani Coulice, who’ll play Aubrey's dear friend and confidant who accompanies her to the house of her mysterious uncle. Dani has an understated charm on screen and, judging by the eyes she’s making at Aubrey, the two women will be able to pull off the romantic subtext he needs them to with ease.

And then there’s Indrid Cold. His first appearance in The Smiling Man drew quick comparisons to Claude Raines, Bella Lugosi and, more importantly, to the great Lon Chaney. Not only does the actor design and apply his own character make-up, he embodies his monsters and murderers in a way that leaves the audience hiding beneath their covers for days.

Stern knew the moment he and Kirby began working on the script that no one but Indrid Cold could play the titular Dr. Nacht. Now all that's missing from the table is…

“Sorry I’m late Joe. We ran long shootin the sword fight.” A southern drawl and apologetic smile announce the entrance of his other leading man. A man who's trained for years under two mentors to follow in their footsteps as swashbucklers, knights, soldiers. The man who is often described as destined to save the day, regardless of the picture. 

When you wanted a monster, you got Indrid Cold. When you wanted a hero, you hired Duck Newton. 

Which is why Stern remains surprised that Duck took this role so readily. He wants him for it, thinks he’s just the man to balance Indrid's aloof, otherworldly demeanor. But this time, his character won’t emerge triumphant. 

---------------------------------------

Duck cannot fuck this up. It’s a goddamn miracle Joe offered it to him at all, given that he’s never done horror before, the studio not wanting to waste him on something so strange. There was a time when Duck would have steered clear of it too, but he trusts Joe, and the rest of the cast is strong. And the leading men in these pictures are never the heroes Duck is used to; they’re scientists, good men in over their heads, soldiers carrying the mental wounds of the war. They’re something new. 

The only thing that worries him is Indrid Cold. Amnesty Pictures is known for darker, more daring fare than most studios, and Indrid always seems to be in the mix. His reputation is one of eccentric artistry, something Duck has little patience for. 

It’s been alright so far, the first weeks mainly getting costume tests and memorizing lines, and Indrid is polite but aloof. When Duck mentions this to Dani, she takes her eyes of Aubrey long enough to shrug, “He’s up in his own head a lot, he doesn’t mean anything by it.”

Today they’re shooting the arrival of his character, Henry Harper, at the lonely country estate of Dr. Edward Nacht. The doctor is Eliza’s (played by Aubrey) uncle, and she’s traveling to stay with him along with her dearest friend, Lucy (played by Dani). Henry and Eliza are ostensibly betrothed, but the script makes only the barest mention of it, putting Duck opposite Indrid and Aubrey opposite Dani in most scenes. 

Joe’s instructions are to play Harper as a classic, bland, heroic lead for the first third of the film, and he gets himself into that headspace as they take their positions.

“Now remember, Aubrey, you’re the only one who’s even little used to your uncle's mannerisms, so you should be genuinely happy to see him. Right, here we go, action!”

The trio pretends to startle at the massive mansion door shutting on its own, turning in sync to look behind themselves. 

“That’s the trouble with these old houses; they have a mind of their own.”

Indrid stands at the top of the staircase, eyes uncovered for the first time since they met. Head held high, dark suit contrasting with his pale hair and sharp features, he grins at them as he descends the steps. It’s commanding and unnerving, the actor managing to convey something odd lurking beneath his veneer of gentility.

Aubrey runs to greet him, saying her lines as Dani and Duck trail behind her. He only ends up at the right mark thanks to watching Dani  from the corner of his eye; the rest of his attention is locked on Indrid. 

“This is my dear friend, Lucy Price.”

“Wonderful to meet you, any friend of my niece is welcome in these halls.” Indrid takes Dani’s and, kissing it with a friendly smile. 

“And this is Mr. Harper, my finance.” 

The smile widens as Indrid offers his hand, Duck taking it as the blocking dictates. There’s a beat where Indrid guides it upwards, as if intending to kiss it. Then he stops, shaking it instead. 

“A pleasure to have you here, Mr. Harper. It seems my niece shares her mother's fine taste in men.”

It takes him a moment to remember he’s not supposed to stand transfixed.

“I look forward to gettin to know you, doctor.”

Indrid steps back, still grinning, “if you three will follow me, I will show you to your rooms.”

“Cut!”

Christ, that was awful, he should have played that more confident, more in control-

“That was perfect Duck, just the right approach.”

“Oh, uh, thanks Joe.”

“I must admit I am pleasantly surprised.” Indrid adds. 

“How so?” Duck looks up at him.

“Simply that quipping whilst swinging a sword about does not always result in someone who can convey complex emotions on screen.”

“Now wait just a fuckin second-”

“I, ah, I was trying to be complimentary.” Indrid almost sounds like he means it. 

Duck crosses his arms, “Oh yeah? Then I guess I oughta say I’m impressed a fella who runs around covered in monster make-up most of the time can actually emote.”

“That was uncalled for.”

“You started it.”

“I did not mean to start anything!”

“Gentlemen, if we could continue with our shooting” Ned’s voice cuts in and Duck turns to see half the soundstage string to them. 

“Uh, right, sorry. Always get  little, uh, tense on the first day. Right, Indrid?”

Indrid rises n unimpressed eyebrow, “Where shall we take it from?”

----------------------------------------------

It doesn't get better after that first day. 

Duck tries, he really does, and he can tell Indrid is doing the same. But the longer they work together, the more often they snap at one another in between scenes. 

“What were you two arguing bout now?” Aubrey says as they walk to the parking lot one evening. 

“We, uh, well he, uh, huh. I can't remember.”

She shakes her head, “Yep, that's what I thought.”

They’re  third of the way through the shoot, and it's going on ten at night, Joe trying to get as much done as he can before another picture borrows the set for two days.

Duck and Indrid are the only actors remaining, working on the scene where Henry, having agreed to help the doctor in his work, confronts him over the nature of the experiments. Once they finish this scene, they’re done, but Indrid keeps tripping over the word “indomitable.”  

When he fucks it up for the fourth time, Duck drops his head into his hands, “fuck’s sake, it ain’t that hard.”

“That’s rather rich coming from someone whose accent ought to have rendered him obsolete at the advent of talking pictures.” Indrid replies dryly. 

“Fuck you.” 

Indrid straightens up, ready with a retort, when Joe shouts for them to retake their places and try again. 

“You are meddlin with forces you don’t understand, doctor. Forces that are a mystery for a reason.”

“Do not underestimate me, Mr. Harper. Man is far more powerful, far more capable than scholars or priests would have you believe.” Indrid steps towards him, voice cool and smile detached, “we are no better than beasts if we cower in the shadows of ignorance, never daring to dream of what may be within our reach. Man was meant to question, Mr. Harper, meant to search and create. Man is indomitable.” His grin brightens not only from correctly pronouncing the word, but as part of the scene; because Duck is hesitating, won over for an instant by his speech. 

Duck shakes his head, “Dreams and questions are all well and good, but they all come to nothin if you barrel forward without a thought for the harm you might do. No, doctor, while we're here, I forbid you from such experiments. I won’t have Eliza in such danger, nor will I risk her losing her remaining family.”

Indrid cocks his head, amused, “You forbid it?” 

Duck tilts his head up to meet his eyes, “I do.”

His back slams into the laboratory counter, Indrids hands gripping it on either side of him.

“Perhaps I have been unclear, Henry. I am the master here, not you.” Slender fingers grip Duck’s lapels, tugging him nose to nose with Indrid, “you would do well to remember that.”

“Cut! Perfect, thank the lord, so we can finally get out of here.” Joe’s voice snaps Duck back into the soundstage, but Indrid hasn’t let go, is instead eyeing Duck’s face, tongue coming out to wet his lips. 

How long has Duck been breathing this hard? 

Indrid release his hold, smoothing down the front of Ducks jacket. He frowns, “You’re shaking. Are you ill?”

“N-nope.”

Unconvinced, Indrid touches his forehead, “You feel rather warm. Please tell me you are going home rather than out to paint the town?”

Duck wants to tell him to mind his own damn business. All that comes out is, “Yeah, might just straight sleep through til Sunday. You rest up too, y’hear?”

Indrid smiles, “I will do my best.”

---------------------------------------

“Catching up on some correspondence?”

Duck sets down his pen as Indrid sits at the lunch table across from him, “My sister moved back out to West Virginia not that long ago, and I promised I’d keep her up to date on everythin goin on out here.”

“Is she younger or older than you?”

“Younger by four years. You, uh, you got any siblin’s?”

“No. I was raised by my aunt and uncle, so I have a cousin instead. Here, I think I might have a picture.” The taller man pulls out a notebook, flipping through it, “ah, there he is.”

“Christ, if I couldn’t see the smudge up there, I’d think that was a fuckin photo.”

“Thank you.” Indrid dips his head, tucking the notebook back into his jacket pocket, “I mostly keep that on me in case I am struck by a new creature design, but it has other uses.”

“Where’s your family from?”

“Germany, originally, then the Salinas valley.”

“Told it’s real beautiful up there.”

“It has its moments, fewer now that they’ve found oil.”

“What’s your favorite?”

Indrid tells him, talks about the nearby mountains and traveling down to the coast, about hitchhiking his way to Los Angeles because he felt foolish asking for the money for a bus ticket when most of the family thought his journey was pointless.

“Sure proved them wrong.” Duck nudges his ankle playfully under the table. 

“I suppose.”

After that conversation, Duck likes his days on set even better. The chair reading “Indrid Cold'' is now next to his more often than not, the two of them running lines or talking about gardens and art between takes. They bring in a black cat--meant to be the doctor’s pet-- for several days of shooting, and Indrid laughs whenever Duck picks it up and coos over it, smile fading to a gentle, shy expression when he catches Duck looking. 

And when Joe instructs them to brush hands, or let their gaze linger too long on each other during scenes, Duck hopes they’ll have to do take after take. 

Today the set is full of excitement, as it’s the first time Indrid will appear in his full monster make-up; he’s shot two scenes in shadows, hinting at the horror of it as he takes innocent life on the moors. Now, Duck will enter the laboratory and see first hand the results of the doctor’s experiments. 

“Action!”

Duck steps into the darkened room, equipment flashing and test-tubes billowing smoke. 

“Doctor, there’s been another death in the village, and you’re the police are asking for your help. They say it’s like nothin they ever seen before.”

Heavy footfalls and the scrape of nails on metal signal Indrid’s approach, but he’s not to turn until the actor speaks. 

“Doctor, can you hear me?” He looks around, worried, then calls hesitantly, “Edward?”

“Hello, Henry.”

He turns and yells in fright, hand flying to cover his mouth. Where there once was an elegant, odd figure, now a massive nightmare looms out of the darkness. Indrid’s mouth stretches wide, curve fangs protruding from either corner, face coated in bloodied, feathered scales, and claws reaching for Duck. 

“Edward what” he staggers backward,s “what in god's name have you done?”

“What I set out to do, my dear Henry. Can you not see that?” Indrid giggles with the hysteria of a man consumed by bitter disappointment, “perhaps you should come closer.”

“Stay back, I’m warnin you-”

Indrid lunges, snarling, and Duck throws himself out of the way, hitting first the edge of something sharp and then the ground

“Fuck!” 

“Cut!”

“Oh dear, are you hurt? Here, let me help-”

Duck holds up a hand, gritting his teeth, “You stay right where you are. Fuck, christ,” the hand gripping his leg comes away spotted with blood, “what the fuck, that wasn’t in the blockin!”

“Joseph said he trusted me to improvise my movements, to maximize the tension.”

“You gotta fuckin warn me about shit like that, all my movement is backwards, meanin I can’t see where I’m goin.”

“I assumed a man who made his living fighting knew how to use his peripheral vision.”

“How bad is it?” Dewey, one of the camera men, helps Duck up as Stern approaches them. 

“Give there’s  a bloodstain on our set, enough to send him over to the medical office. I'm calling it for the night . I’ll see you both tomorrow.” Joe runs a hand through his hair, levels them both with a warning look before turning back to dismiss the crew. 

It’s not all that bad once he’s out of the torn pants and gets it cleaned off. When he gets back to the dressing room to retrieve his coat and hat, there’s a large black case, like  fisherman's tackle box. It’s what Indrid calls his toolkit, full of the tools and tricks he uses to turn himself into a monster. He once called it his most prized possession. 

Duck switches off the light, has the door halfway shut before he stops. Groaning in frustration at his own decency, he turns and grabs the box from the floor. 

-------------------------------

“This had better be important” Indrid calls through the apartment door, “I must go back out for something and do not have time to waste.”

“Wouldn’t happen to be goin out for your toolkit?” Duck says dryly. 

The door flies open, revealing Indrid in a black dressing gown, face a bit pink, no doubt from scrubbing off all his monster make-up. 

“Yes.” He snatches the box away by it’s handle, hurrying over to the table and leaving Duck in the doorway, “you didn’t touch anything did you? Or show it to anyone else?” His head whips over his shoulder, red glasses slipping down his nose to reveal a hard, suspicious glare. 

“No, I didn’t touch a damn thing.” Duck steps over the threshold, shutting the door and tossing his hat onto the couch, “and you're welcome.”

Indrid inhales deeply, “I, I apologize. The tricks I developed, my techniques, my materials, practically all of it is in this box. If someone else were to get  hold of it, replicate my effects, my career would be over.”

“What are you talkin about?”

The taller man sighs, turning his back and heading into his bedroom, “I do not expect you to understand.”

Duck is ready to tear his hair out, stalks into the bedroom after him, “Fuck’s sake Indrid, do you think you’re the only fella here with the brains to understand shit?”

“That is not what I meant and you know it.”

“No, I really don’t. What do you want from me, Indrid? Most days you’re palin’ round with me, then you act like you think I’m some sheltered idiot who’s had everything handed to him.”

“Because you have” Indrids hands could be conducting  symphony for how much they move s he continues, “you had mentors, people who told you from a young age that you had a place in this business, who carved out roles for you and handed down their skills, their legacies. I had nothing, I had to make my way based on skill and luck alone.”

“Were the fuck do you get off assumin that sort thing bout me? At lest you got some fuckin say in the way your career went. Minerva had it all planned out for me, hell, at the start I fought hard to do somethin other than those hero parts.”

The anger on Indrid’s face flickers, “Why did you stop?”

 “Because I didn’t wanna end up with nothin! As you keep pointin out” he steps towards Indrid, jabbing a finger into his chest, “my kind are a dime a dozen in this town.”

“Which means you can get any part you choose! You are the kind of man everyone loves. God help me if horror ever falls from favor, I will be back in dust of the farmland in an instant.” 

Duck growls at the sorry ploy for sympathy, “Bullshit, you’re better on camera than anyone in this town.”

“That doesn’t matter! For goodness sake, Duck look at me!” He gestures wildly at his face, “without my monsters, without horror, I'm nothing. Amnesty might try to help me, but they’d soon find that unless they can be terrified of me, audiences have no use for Indrid Cold.” Resignation tinges his voice, and it kicks Duck’s anger out from under him. 

“Indrid, that ain’t true-”

“-No, it is very true”

“-will you let me fuckin finish?” Duck reaches for him, not certain what he means to do.

“I have no desire to-” Indrid moves his arm to push Duck’s away, and puts too much force behind it, losing his footing on the hardwood floor and falling backwards onto the bed. In attempting to recover his balance, one leg kicks out, knocking Duck forward. He catches himself with one knee on the mattress and his hands on either side of Indrid, pulling abruptly down on the dressing gown. When it opens, they both go still. 

“You, uh, why ain't you wearin anythin under this?”

“I was not aware I need to follow a dress code in my own blasted house.” Indrid manages through grit teeth, face turned resolutely away from Duck. He follows the angle of his jaw down the line of his neck, the noticeable points of collarbone, ribs, and hips beneath tan, sun-hungry skin making him think of fine china or rare plants, the kind you cultivate for years in hopes of seeing something no one else could ever dream of. 

“Would you kindly stop staring?” Indrid murmurs.

“Why?” Duck drags his gaze away from his body just as Indrid levels him with an exhausted frown.

“Fine, go ahead and get your fill so you can--in excruciating detail--tell anyone who is interested that I look just as strange without clothes as I do in them.”

“Is that really what you think I’m doin?”

“I have a hard time believing there could be...another..” He trails off s Duck leans down, cupping his cheek and bringing his other leg up to straddle him. 

“You sure about that belief?” He bumps their noses together. 

“I'm starting to have my doubts.” 

Duck snickers, carefully bringing their lips together. Indrid hums, wrapping his arms round Duck and running his hands along his back up into his hair. He’s kissed plenty of times, on and off screen, but Indrid is earnest and hesitant all at once, as if Duck is giving him a gift he’s not sure he deserves. He’s also wonderfully responsive, twitching and arching whenever Duck touches him, licking and nipping at his lips, begging to be let inside. Duck opens them, sighs when Indrid teases their tongues together. 

When he sits up, Indrids hands draw across his bare chest, concerned. 

“Don’t worry, darlin , I ain’t goin far.” He slides off the bed, sinking to his knees between Indrid’s legs s he pulls off his jacket, “Just seems to me you need someone to show just how fuckin handsome you are.”

“Are you oh-so-graciously volunteering?” Indrid’s smile is plain in his voice. 

He pushes up his sleeves, “Yep.”

Indrid’s cock is soft when he wraps his fingers around it, stroking up gradually to rub the head with his thumb. Licking along the underside turns Indrid’s so “ohs” into a full-throated moan. 

“That’s more like it, darlin.” Duck kisses up and down the shaft , slipping a hand lower to gently toy with his balls, “get hard for me.”

“Wh-what” Indrid gulps down a breath, “what makes you think you are in charge here?”

In lieu of an answer, he takes the head of is cock into his mouth, sucking hard, not letting up until pre-cum seeps along his tongue. Indrid’s hands cling to the edge of the bed, the room filling with high gasps and the odd squeak when Duck zig-zags his nails along his inner thigh. 

He pulls off, wiping away the string of spit trailing from his lips. Laps intermittently at his slit as he speaks, hoping his voice is coming across husky rather than desperate, “Well, sugar, what do you say? Gonna let me call the shots?”

“I s-say” One hand wavers in the air, about to stroke his hair, and Duck dips to the side, bumping his head into his palm in tacit permission. 

“I say a man on his, his knees giving orders is presumptuous.”

“Ah!Fuck” Duck groans as Indrid tugs his hair, forcing him to sit up straight.

“And I’d say his mouth could be put to an even better use.”

Duck scrambles onto the bed, kissing Indrid furiously as soon as he reaches him, the pale-haired man rolling them over and tangling them both in the top blanket with their feet still hanging off the bed. 

“Did I say you could stop paying attention to my cock? OOhhnnnn, yes, yes” he hooks a leg over Ducks thigh, pumping into the shorter man’s fist, “perfect, god, everything about you is, is just right.”

“I ain’t the only one.” Duck aims for his lips, ends up kissing his cheek, when he buries his face into his neck with a whine.

“It’s true. You think I go to my knees for any old fella?”

“Mphhm” Indrid’s glasses dig into his shoulder.

“You think I’d be doin this” he speeds up his hand, “if that face of yours didn’t make me wanna do things in front of those cameras that’d make the devil blush.”

“Mmhpmm”  Indrid clings to him like lichen yet refuses to look up. 

Duck stills his hand, “I ain’t startin up again unless you answer me, sugar.”

Indrid raises his head halfway, five o’clock shadow pricking Duck’s cheek.

“Duck Newton, I do believe you are telling the truth. You think I am handsome.” Shyness lurks just beneath the teasing, so Duck tenderly brushes his fingers along Indrid’s face.

“That I do.”

He raises up enough to bring them nose to nose, “And I think you put all other matinee idols to shame with only your smile.”

“Indrid.” It’s his turn to blush, and he only grows redder when Indrid guides his hand off his cock and to his lips to kiss it. 

“I have an idea. As much as these” he releases his hand to snap his suspenders, “flatter that broad chest of yours, they and your pants need to come off.”

As Duck exiles his clothes and shoes to the floor, Indrid lays with his head on a pillow, steadily stroking his cock. Staring at that sight adds a good minute to his undressing, but Duck doesn’t give a damn. 

When he goes to straddle Indrid’s hips, the other man shakes his head, “Nono, up here.” He pats the pillow on either side of his head. 

“Shit yeah, been wanting to fuck that stunnin face for weeks.”

Indrid’s face is beet-colored by the time Duck brackets it with his knees. 

“S-so have eye”

“Aw, sugar, you gettin tongue tiIIIIedfuck.” His palms thwack into the wall as Indrid circles it along his folds. 

“What was that about tongues?” His smirk is just visible between Duck’s thighs. 

“That if you don’t keep usin yours like that, you’re gonna see a grown man cry with need.”

“We cannot have that.’

“FUuuuuck, fuck.” He wiggles his hips to help Indrid get the right angle, unsure if he can ask for more pressure.

“You, you can put more weight down if you need.” 

He grinds down, moaning when Indrid’s lips part further to give his tongue more room to work. The moan is echoed below him, muffled though it may be, as one of Indrid’s hands disappears from view. A moment later, he bucks, gasping and laving his tongue along Duck’s dick. 

“Shit, right there, keep goin right there.”

Indrid curves and flicks his tongue along the sensitive skin, hums of pleasure mingling with the messy sound of his hand flying up and down his cock. When he closes his lips around his dick Duck yelps, hunches forward to rest his head on the wall as he sucks him off, pressure spiking deliciously whenever he moans or strokes himself harder. Indrid cums with a whimper, sticky hands landing on Duck’s ass to urge him on as he ruts into his mouth.

“That’s it sugar, fuck, you’re amazin, feels so fuckin good oh fuck, fuck, Indrid, fuckin christ.” He rolls his hips harder and faster until the friction makes the orgasm burst through him. He just manages to lift himself off and collapse on the bed rather than Indrid's neck. 

“Did, do you hear a, uh, a crack?”

Red glasses, a split across the right lens, appear in front of him. 

“Aw fuck” he giggles, “didn’t know I was goin that hard. Lemme buy you a new pair?”

“I have several spares, on account of my own occasionally absent mindedness” Indrid is up on his side, grinning down at him, face still shiny with slick, “and I am taking that as a testament to my skill. Perhaps I should wear them with pride to the set tomorrow.”

“Please don’t” Duck laughs harder, “fuck, can you imagine the look on Joe’s face”

Indrid is laughing too now, “They are not part of my costume, it would not affect the shoot. Save the part where the reminder of how you looked just now, flushed and ecstatic above me, would make it rather hard to focus.”

Duck shifts onto his side, nestling up against him, “you’re a real sweet talker, you know that?”

“You have that effect on me.” He feels him inhale more deeply, fingers toying with Duck’s hair, “would, ah, would you like to spend the night? I believe you are not needed tomorrow, and I am only needed in the evening.”

“I’d love to” Duck nudges him onto his back to better cuddle across his chest, “got no interest in sleepin alone any time soon.”

“Do, ah, do you mean you wish to, ah, to-”

“Yeah, I do. I wanna see what it’s like to have the finest man in the city on my arm. Assumin he wants the same thing.”

“You do not think I am snobbish and strange?”

“Not anymore than you think I’m spoiled and had it easy.”

Indrid kisses the top of his head, “Then I think this could be the start of something wonderful.”

--------------------------------------

Stern looks up from the script as his two leading men walk onto the set, arms linked and whispering to one another, each smiling wider than Laurel Canyon. He turns back to his notes. 

“About fucking time.”