#like it's not fully in line with his character for him to want to be consumed by what he loves

[valenteal]

Alright I see what you’re saying about the headcanons (which are not head canons so much a inferences from the information we have) BUT I have to clarify that multiple psychologists have explained that yes Anakin Skywalker has bpd. He has enough prominently visible symptoms to be clinically diagnosed if he were a real person. This is a fact.

Yes, some Jedi get glimpses of the future, or the past, but that is in no way the same thing as fully experiencing time in a non linear fashion.

I didn’t say that Jedi had ready access to that 4th dimensional view of reality, I said that the Force gives them a glimpse of what it could be like. we literally used the same word to describe it. I’m getting this from Yoda’s lines about how Jedi are luminous beings. But I'm also not just using the movies. (I'll get into my view on Clone wars in canon shortly.) It can be inferred also from everything we know about the Cosmic Force. Basically the Cosmic Force is that fourth time dimensional view of the universe while the Living Force is the fourth SPACE dimensional view of the universe. Sorry I’ve been being a physics nerd for the past few days all this is fresh in my head right now. Point is, the Jedi truly don’t see time as a linear thing even if they are for the most part confined to the present. They see something having existed in the past as never disappearing because the past is fixed and nothing can change that. The past still exists and thus everything that existed in the past will always exist and that is how they justify not feeling grief over loss.

And I want to be clear on something: I do consider the majority of Clone Wars to be canon and I do take quite a bit from Legends as well so not everything I say comes from the movies. But as a writer I do not see Clone Wars Anakin’s characterization as faithful due to stupid things like pandering to the audience who didn’t want to confront things like the complexity an nuance of mental health and toxic environments and relationships. Everything else, the characterization of others like Obi-Wan, Yoda, and Windu? The characters who didn’t get a ton of hate after the prequels were released? That’s all fine. It’s just Padmé and Anakin who suffered from deliberately butchering their character.

So all the Mortis arc, Yoda’s season 6 adventure to become one with the cosmic force and all the implications that go with it? Canon. The Jedi Council’s treatment of Anakin? Canon.

Exactly one Jedi made a big deal about Anakin being the Chosen One: Qui-Gon. That's it. The Jedi don't treat Anakin any different than any other member of their order.

This is patently false. His admission into the order was debated by the full council in front of him. That is extremely irregular. and even once he was admitted into the order he was at the level of Palawan at a young age and skipping the initiate phase. He grew up knowing that most of the council didn't want him there. Mace in particular made it pretty damn clear he didn't like Anakin.

We also know that Anakin was powerful beyond anything the Jedi had ever seen. it can be inferred that they would react more strongly to his emotional volatility than they do with other Jedi who aren't already seen as dangerous.

...I'm not sure what you expect the Jedi to do about that? Qui-Gon died, and Padme was a Queen who had to go back to her own planet.

Well they certainly could have handled it better than they did! Maybe it wasn't their fault but it was their responsibility to help him learn to properly cope. And it wasn't just that Padmé had to return to Naboo, Anakin literally wasn't allowed to be in communication with her, which I'm pretty sure was explicitly stated in Queen's Shadow.

That was a choice that Anakin made. Sidious didn't force his hand. Anakin made the decision that the chance of saving Padme - from a fate he didn't know for sure she'd experience! - was worth betraying the Jedi, worth murdering younglings, worth overthrowing the Republic and turning it into an Empire.

Now this. This is complicated. Because on a certain level you are correct. But he also wasn't in his right mind. He'd been fighting a war for months, hadn't slept in days, was being heavily manipulated, his entire support system was absent, and he was splitting all at the same time. and if you pay attention you'll notice that he resisted very very well. it was not easy for Palpatine to manipulate him into that situation. to even get Anakin to the point where he was mentally unstable enough to turn to the dark side took over TEN YEARS of manipulation. And after that it was actually the Jedi who played the ground work for him to continue making those choices after he became Vader. because the Jedi teach that once you fall theirs no going back, which is provably false but Anakin didn't know that. you may also notice that it didn't actually take much for Vader to return to the light side. Simply having one person believe in him was enough.

Addressing the bit about him not knowing for sure Padmé would die, I have to point out that even from Phantom Menace Anakin shows extreme reliability when predicting the near future. and he touted the dreams about his mother and as a result she died. If he'd responded to this vision just a few days, heck even hours, earlier Shmi could have survived.

That's why I call Anakin selfish and possessive. Because ultimately, he didn't care about Padme's feelings or opinions.

And this is where we come back to the BPD, which again is NOT a head canon but the opinion of multiple psychologists and people with BPD.

Anakin greatly values Padmé's feelings and opinions most of the time. to an unhealthy degree. to the point where his self-image is reliant on her opinion of him.

He was in the midst of a splitting episode. Here's a definition:

Splitting is a symptom of BPD. It occurs when a person sees everything as black or white, good or bad, or best or worst. Splitting is a defense mechanism people living with BPD use to deal with emotions (such as the fear of abandonment) that they cannot handle.

That's what was going on. He was unable to reconcile Padmé being against the side he'd chosen and thus could only see it as a betrayal. I also have to point out that he didn't actually choke her that hard or for that long. Her struggles weren't nearly as frantic as the could've been and later the medical droid made it clear that the was nothing physically wrong with her. There didn't even seem to be any bruising. Padmé shouldn't have died. And Anakin shouldn't have survived. And the Force can be used to drain life energy and transfer it to another person. Palpatine wanted Anakin alive and isolated, so killing Padmé to keep him alive would have been the perfect strategy. Anyway that's getting into theory territory so I digress. The Point is Anakin didn't choose to disregard Padmé or her beliefs, I don't even know if he was cognizant at all of Sidious's plans or what they meant. All he could really see was a black and white view of his side vs. the Jedi.

As for the unconditional love you say he needed? Padme did love him unconditionally.

Which is exactly why he was so desperate to protect her. Even beyond the fact that he loved her she was literally the only person who gave him what he needed. She was his entire support system. If the Jedi had supported him the way he needed things might have turned out differently. If he'd felt safe actually asking for help and being open about the details of the situation the Jedi might actually have been able to do something about it. But when he did go and ask for help he was chastised for caring and wanting to save someone from a possibly preventable death. Which is so messed up. Yoda didn't even press for details about the nature of the death to determine the risk of doing something. just claimed that sometimes the harder you fight the future the more likely it becomes or something. I don't see how Padmé potentially seeing a Jedi healer could have made things worse.

In conclusion the Jedi Order and its Council made a Buch of huge screw up when it came to raising Anakin and it ended up killing them and literally driving him insane. His mental health was their responsibility and they didn't just drop the ball, they threw it.

"no attachments" in SW literally just means "don't be selfish and possessive". that's it. that's all there is. doesn't mean jedi can't have friends and loved ones. they can. just. don't be possessive and selfish about it. don't murder thousands of people in an effort to save one.

[rootedinrevisions]

Just...Stay: Part 2

SUMMARY: Tyler has to prove himself and win back your trust after nearly losing you for good. As he tries to commit to building a life together, the past tensions resurface, challenging both of you to confront the insecurities and fears that have kept you apart.

PART 1 HERE

A/N: I tried to write this using some of the ideas that you guys had for where YOU would like to see the story go (ie: a little bit of Tyler groveling, her moving on, and Tyler having to try and win her back! Hope you like it! xx

WORD COUNT: 4.8k

WARNINGS: Angst. Fluff.

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists or be tagged for a specific character please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Twisters (Mostly Tyler right now, but possibly others soon)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

You stand on the porch, watching Tyler’s taillights disappear down the long, winding road. The ache in your chest tightens, and you whisper to yourself, He’s gone. This time, for real. You let out a shaky breath, gripping the porch railing as if it can steady the chaos churning inside you. You’ve waited so many times for him to turn around, to decide he wanted you as much as you wanted him. But he’d made his choice, and you can’t keep waiting for him to want you.

With a shaky breath, you went back inside, the echo of his last words still hanging heavy in the air. Your hands trembled as you reached for your phone, already pressing the familiar contact without needing to see the name. When the line connected and your mother answered, you could barely get out a word. But she didn’t need you to; she recognized the silence, the breathless, broken sound of you holding back tears.

“Oh, honey,” she said softly, with that knowing sadness in her voice. “You don’t have to say a thing. I know.”

The crack in her voice brought the tears you’d been fighting up to the surface. The dam broke, and everything you’d been holding in—the hope, the ache, the final goodbye—poured out, leaving you unable to respond as she filled the silence with soft, soothing words.

“I’m coming over,” she assured you. “Just sit tight. I’ll be there soon.”

You nodded even though she couldn’t see you, wiping away tears as you settled back against the counter, feeling like the empty space Tyler left behind was somehow everywhere now, pressing in around you. The quiet house felt so much bigger without him in it, the emptiness swallowing every corner that once held laughter, whispered promises, and the comfort of his steady presence—even if it was always temporary.

Later, you and your mom sit in the living room, the stillness almost too much to bear. She’s wrapped her arms around you, her gentle strength holding you together when you feel like you’re falling apart. You try to hold back the tears, but the weight of everything—of hoping he’d turn around, hoping he’d realize he was making a mistake, hoping he’d come back up those steps to say he was staying—finally breaks.

Your mom rubs small circles on your back, her voice soft and steady. “He made his choice, and someday, he’ll understand what he’s lost,” she murmurs. “You did everything you could, honey. You deserve someone who’s going to put you first.”

You nod, though it doesn’t stop the ache gnawing at you. For the first time, though, you start to let the truth settle in: that you deserve more than the waiting, the hoping. That you deserve someone who chooses you fully, every single day.

Later that night you stand in front of the bathroom mirror, the harsh light making your face look even more worn from the day, you brace yourself for another quiet night. You slip into your pajamas, ready to try and sleep through the ache in your chest, when your phone lights up on the countertop. Tyler’s name stares back at you, as if daring you to pick up.

Your heart thuds painfully, and for a split second, you’re tempted. He’s calling, just like he said he would. But you can’t answer this time. You can’t let him back in, not after everything. So you hit the red button, sending his call to silence.

Thirty seconds later, your phone lights up again—his name filling the screen once more. The resolve you’d tried so hard to build threatens to crumble, but you steady yourself, knowing you need to stay strong. You told him what would happen if he left. You’d made it clear, and this time, you have to stay firm with that.

With a deep breath, you hit “Ignore” again, feeling both the sting of regret and the strength of your own boundaries. It hurts, but you know it’s what you need to do.

You turn your phone face-down on the bed, trying to ignore the nagging pull to check it. But when you do, Tyler’s message is there, waiting.

Tyler: Can we talk? I just want to talk to you.

You close your eyes, feeling the weight of every unsaid word between you. He wants to talk, but he still isn’t saying what you need to hear—no apologies, no acknowledgment of what he’s putting you through, just the same vague promises. Another message appears as you sit, reading it with an ache building in your chest.

Tyler: Please. Talk to me darlin.

You want to answer; some part of you always will. But there’s no real shift in his words, no sign that he understands what you need. It’s just Tyler reaching out like he always does, and leaving you to carry the weight when he pulls away.

So, you let the messages sit. They stare back at you, blue checkmarks confirming that you’ve seen them, leaving him on read for once. It takes everything in you, but you put your phone on silent and push it to the side. This time, you’re standing firm.

* * * *

A few months had come and gone since you’d last heard Tyler’s voice, and while the ache lingered, day by day, you’d felt it dull. The first few weeks had been the hardest—filled with reminders of him in places you hadn’t even thought to look. But with time, you’d found a new rhythm. You packed up his things and stored them in the barn loft, out of sight and mostly out of mind. There’d been a few days when you’d thought he might call again, but each week that passed with no message made it easier to let him go.

Then, just a few nights ago, you’d bumped into Matt at the bar. The quiet, shy boy you remembered from high school was still there, but he’d grown more self-assured, his conversations easy and light. He’d listened intently, asked thoughtful questions, and laughed at your jokes, which was a nice change after months of heartache. When he’d asked if you’d join him for dinner, his eyes hopeful yet calm, you found yourself agreeing without hesitation.

Now, as you finish getting ready, you catch a glimmer of that anticipation you thought you’d lost. It’s a soft, hopeful excitement, different from the wild spark you’d once had for Tyler, but maybe that’s exactly what you need.

As you slip on your shoes and give yourself one last look in the mirror, a strange mixture of nerves and excitement tingles in your stomach. It’s been so long since you let yourself look forward to something like this—putting on a new dress, curling your hair, and swiping on lipstick just to feel a little spark. It feels nice to step into a night that’s full of possibility, even if it’s quieter than the whirlwind you once imagined with Tyler.

Matt isn’t the kind of guy who will leave you on edge, wondering what comes next. That thought is comforting as you smooth the fabric of your dress and check your reflection one last time. He’s steady, warm, and easy to talk to, and when he’d asked you out last week, you’d felt a genuine flicker of excitement—a feeling you hadn’t allowed yourself in ages.

Your phone chimes, breaking the silence of your room. You glance over, expecting it to be a text from Matt saying he’s on his way, but instead, you freeze. 

Tyler’s name flashes across the screen, and for a moment, everything else fades.

Tyler: Hey. I know it’s been a while, but can we talk? I’ve been thinking a lot. Just… if you have a minute.

You stare at the message, feeling a swirl of emotions you thought you’d buried. It’s been weeks since his last message, and each day that passed without one felt like another small step forward. You’ve been letting him go—pushing his things up into the barn loft, moving him out of your thoughts inch by inch. But tonight, of all nights, he’s suddenly there, reaching out again.

The phone chimes again, and another message appears.

Tyler: I’m sorry. I miss you. Just thought you should know.

Your heart clenches, but this time, you feel a new kind of strength holding you back. You let out a shaky breath, reminding yourself that you deserve someone who doesn’t make you wait and wonder, who doesn’t leave just to come back again. Tyler’s voice and his words, tempting as they are, can’t keep pulling you under. Not anymore.

With that, you tuck your phone into your bag, letting his message go unanswered as you grab your keys. Tonight, you’re stepping out into something new, something steady and full of hope—maybe even something that finally lets you move on.

At dinner, you and Matt settle into a cozy booth near the window, the glow of candlelight casting a soft warmth across the table. You offer a smile, and he returns it, looking just as eager and nervous as you feel. The waiter takes your orders, and for a moment, you both fumble with your menus, using them as a buffer against the quiet that settles between you.

“So,” Matt says, clearing his throat, “how’s work been treating you?”

You launch into a polite summary, and he nods along, sharing his own stories from the hardware store, a few of which earn a chuckle. But as you finish, another silence slips in, and you feel that small, familiar tension build in your chest. You drum your fingers lightly on the table, scanning your mind for something—anything—to say. Just as the silence is about to become too much, Matt asks if you’re excited for the weekend, and you let out a quiet sigh of relief.

You tell yourself it’s probably just nerves, that this is normal. After all, it’s been a couple of years since you’ve been on a real date, and first dates are always a little awkward. But as you lift your glass to take a sip, you can’t help but think back to the times you’d come to this same restaurant with Tyler. How the conversation would flow so easily, sometimes even late into the night. You’d swap stories, share laughs, and talk about everything and nothing all at once. There was never a lull, never a forced smile or the need to fill the quiet.

You catch yourself before the memory sinks any deeper and shake your head, forcing a smile as Matt picks up on a new thread of conversation.

Stepping outside the restaurant after dinner with Matt, you hold the door open just long enough to make sure he’s following when you feel yourself bump into someone headed in. You stumble back, and strong hands instinctively reach out to steady you. You begin to apologize, breathless from the sudden collision, only to look up and freeze. 

Those familiar, green eyes meet yours, and for a moment, everything around you blurs. Tyler stands before you, in a red button-up, worn jeans, and that off-white Stetson you know all too well. He murmurs your name, his voice thick with something unreadable as he holds you in place for a heartbeat longer than necessary. 

But before you can react, Matt is by your side, his hand pressing warmly against your lower back, gently pulling you away. 

Tyler releases you, his gaze lingering as Matt asks if you’re okay. You nod, feeling a bit dazed, and allow Matt to guide you toward the street.

Tyler calls your name again, his voice softer, a thread of desperation woven through it. But you glance back only briefly before following Matt down the sidewalk, his arm curling around your shoulders protectively as he continues talking, oblivious to the moment that just passed. 

You try to steady yourself, but the weight of Tyler’s gaze is still on you, even as you walk away.

Watching you leave with someone else beside you, Tyler’s heart twists in a way he didn’t see coming. The sight of Matt’s hand resting comfortably on your shoulder, of you turning away from him so resolutely, strikes deeper than any storm he’s ever chased. It’s in this moment that something cracks, and he realizes with painful clarity just how much he’s let slip through his fingers. The thought of anyone else sharing the moments you once shared together is a weight he can’t shake. As he watches you disappear into the night, Tyler makes a silent vow to win you back, whatever it takes.

Matt drives you home, the quiet hum of the engine filling the comfortable silence between you as you watch the streets blur past. He’s considerate, not pushing for conversation, as though sensing the hints of distraction lingering in your gaze. When he pulls up to your house, he steps out first, hurrying around to open your door. You offer a grateful smile, following him to your porch as you fish for your keys.

Standing under the dim porch light, you both pause, caught in that familiar, tentative moment that usually ends with a goodnight kiss. Matt smiles, leaning in with a softness in his eyes that tells you he’s hoping for more than the simple goodbye you’re about to offer. And though part of you wants to bridge that gap—maybe even craves the closure it could bring—Tyler’s face flashes in your mind, his eyes catching yours across that restaurant entrance, and you can’t shake the thought.

You lean forward, placing a gentle kiss on Matt’s cheek before stepping back, your hand lightly on his arm. He seems to understand, though a hint of disappointment flickers in his eyes. “Goodnight, Matt,” you say softly, your hand dropping back to your side.

“Goodnight,” he replies, a warm smile slipping back into place. He pulls you in for a quick hug, his embrace steady and reassuring, but he doesn’t push for more. 

Watching him walk back to his car, you feel a pang of guilt. Matt’s a good man, and he deserves someone whose heart isn’t scattered across memories and what-ifs.

You let out a slow breath as his car pulls away, whispering into the stillness around you. You know you’re not quite there yet.

Minutes later you are in the kitchen, getting yourself a glass of water when you hear it. When you hear him. The rumble of his truck reaches you before the sight of it does, that familiar low, steady hum breaking the quiet night. You freeze in place, feeling the sound more than hearing it, the way it seems to settle into your bones and send your heart racing. You step over to the kitchen window, barely breathing as you watch him pull up, headlights cutting through the darkness until he shuts the engine off.

For a moment, he doesn’t move, just sits there, his silhouette still and contemplative. You’d know the tilt of his head, the set of his shoulders, anywhere. 

Slowly, he climbs out and makes his way up the path, boots crunching on the gravel. With each step he takes your mind races, grasping for words, trying to brace for the conversation you know he’s here to have.

When he reaches the front porch, he pauses, hands on his hips as he lets out a long breath. His eyes flick to the window, and you step back instinctively, as though he might see you. 

You feel a sharp pang in your chest, the past month of silence cracking open like fresh heartbreak. Then he’s knocking, the sound a low, insistent rhythm that echoes through the house, reaching you where you stand, rooted in place.

You take a deep, steadying breath, one hand reaching to your chest as if to calm the beat of your heart. You can’t avoid him now. Whatever he has to say, you need to hear it. Your fingers wrap around the doorknob, twisting it as you remind yourself to stand strong, to keep your heart guarded.

With one last breath, you open the door, meeting Tyler’s gaze—the same gaze that’s held you and let you go too many times to count. Tyler’s eyes find yours, raw and pleading, and his face softens in a way you haven’t seen in a long time. He takes a shaky breath, his words tumbling out in a rush like he’s been holding them back for too long. 

“I know I messed up. I know I’ve given you every reason to walk away,” he begins, his voice low and thick with emotion. “But I can’t lose you. I can’t…not like this.”

His hands run through his hair, and for a second, he looks at the ground, gathering himself. When he looks back up, his eyes glisten, and he steps closer, his words growing more insistent. 

“These last few months, you not talking to me… I can’t even explain how much that hurt. How much I’ve missed you—missed everything we had. I kept thinking, maybe if I left you alone, you’d be better off. But I was wrong, and now I can’t stand not being near you.”

He takes another breath, his voice catching slightly as he adds, “I want to come home. I want to be with you. I want to come back and stay this time…if you’ll have me.”

You feel your heart stutter, your mind racing to process what he’s just said. You’ve wanted to hear those words so many times before, but now…now that he’s here, your defenses come rushing up. 

You try to keep your voice steady, shaking your head as you take a step back. “Tyler…you don’t just get to come back whenever you feel like it. You left. You made that choice, and I—” But you stop, seeing the way he looks at you, eyes shining with the tears he’s trying to keep back.

He’s holding his breath, his chest rising and falling like he’s struggling to hold himself together. The vulnerability in his face hits you like a wave, breaking down the walls you’ve been trying so hard to build.

“Please,” he whispers, voice barely above a breath. “I know I don’t deserve it, but I…I just need you to know that you’re it for me. You’re home. Not just this house or the land…you, darlin’. Anywhere you are, that’s where I want to be. I don’t want to run anymore.”

You feel a knot in your chest tighten, torn between the longing in his words and the pain of what’s happened.

“Tyler,” you begin, voice unsteady, “I can’t do this again. I can’t open myself up just to watch you walk away.”

His hand reaches out, hesitating before he rests it on your arm, his thumb tracing a gentle line along your skin. “I’m not going anywhere this time,” he says softly, his voice trembling. “Not unless you tell me to.”

The look in his eyes tells you he’s here, truly here, every bit of himself laid bare for you. And for the first time, you see a man who’s willing to fight—fight to be with you, fight for a future together, fight to make up for every broken promise.

You cross your arms over your chest, the weight of his words sitting heavy in the air between you. For a second, it almost feels like you can’t breathe. His words are exactly what you’ve wanted to hear, but there’s still a part of you that’s scared—scared to believe him, scared to fall for this all over again. You take a step back, trying to distance yourself from the emotions that have flooded your chest.

“How do I know?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper but carrying the weight of every question you’ve been holding onto. “How do I know this time is going to be different? How do I know you’re not just saying what I want to hear, again?”

He pauses, his face tightening for a brief moment, before his eyes soften, his sincerity cutting through the uncertainty. “All I can do is prove it to you,” he says quietly. His words are steady, but there’s an ache beneath them, something that makes your heart skip. “I can’t change the past, but I can damn sure try to make up for it.”

He glances toward his truck, his hand dropping to the side before he looks back at you. “I brought an extra bag with me this time,” he says, his voice steady with a quiet determination. “I was hoping you’d let me leave it here. Maybe when I come back in a couple weeks I could come back with the rest of my stuff…and that you’ll let me stay.” He looks at you, his eyes open and honest, no pretense, no bravado—just the raw truth of a man who wants nothing more than to rebuild what he lost.

You feel the sharp sting of his words sink into you, and for a moment, you’re speechless. Tyler Owens, the man who once seemed so lost, so unsure of anything but the moment, is telling you he’s ready to plan. You feel the ground beneath you shift as he continues.

“I’ve talked to Boone, Lily, Dexter, and Dani about it,” he says, almost as if it’s something he’s already put in motion. “I’ve been thinking about moving up here, about making it work. I know it’s not just about me anymore. I know what I did, and I know what it’s going to take for you to trust me again. I want to be here, with you. And I’ve already been figuring out how I can make it work with storm chasing. With the team.”

The weight of his words hits you like a freight train. Tyler, who’d never seemed the type to plan, to make a life out of more than just surviving, is telling you that he’s thought ahead. He’s thought about you—about living with you. The logistics of his work, where he’d fit in with the team, how he could make it all work—things he’d never even considered before.

He never once brought up the idea of moving in, of building a future with you, before. Now, he’s here, telling you that he’s ready. And as much as your heart aches with uncertainty, something inside of you can’t help but feel the tiniest thread of hope tugging at you.

You swallow the lump in your throat, trying to find the right words, trying to keep your guard up, even as your heart beats louder with each passing second.

“How do I know this is real?” you whisper, your voice breaking slightly.

Tyler’s eyes are locked on yours, his expression soft and full of sincerity, the words that leave his lips quiet but sure. “You’ll know by what I do. Not by what I say.”

As you stand there, the flickering hope mingling with every guarded part of you, you can’t hold back anymore. You have to ask him, to hear him explain it in a way that might finally make sense.

“Why, Tyler?” you say, your voice laced with hurt and frustration. “Why do you do this? The hot and cold? Coming back and then leaving just when I start to trust that you’ll stay? Why am I never enough for you to choose me?”

Your words hang in the air, heavy, but Tyler doesn’t flinch. He looks at you, and for a moment, you see something raw and vulnerable cross his face—an expression you don’t think you’ve seen before. He takes a shaky breath, his hands running through his hair as he struggles to find the words.

“It’s not that you’re not enough,” he says, his voice soft but resolute. “You’ve always been enough—more than enough. It’s me who hasn’t been enough. I’ve been scared… scared of needing someone the way I need you, of letting myself feel things that deep. I kept convincing myself that I’d be fine on my own, that I didn’t need anyone, but that was never true.”

He pauses, glancing away before he meets your gaze again, his eyes intense and filled with regret.

“Seeing you moving on, watching you with him tonight…” He trails off, swallowing hard. “It made me feel something I never want to feel again. The thought of you with anyone else—it made me sick. It took almost losing you for me to see that I can’t keep doing this. That if I kept running, I was going to lose you, really lose you. And I’d have no one to blame but myself.”

He reaches for your hand, his fingers hesitant at first, as if he’s waiting for you to pull away. When you don’t, he takes your hand fully, his grip firm yet gentle.

“I know it doesn’t excuse anything,” he admits, voice heavy with sincerity. “I know I messed up. But being without you, thinking I’d lost you for good… it’s been hell. And if there’s any part of you that can still trust me, even a little, I want to show you that I’m ready to be here for real. To stay. I can’t keep running from the one thing that matters most to me.”

Tyler’s gaze doesn’t waver from yours as he takes a slow step closer, his hands resting at his sides, waiting. He opens his mouth, then closes it, the tension in the air so thick you could almost touch it. When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet, but you can hear the vulnerability underneath.

"Please, just… give me a chance," he says, his words hanging in the air.

You swallow hard, your heart caught in a war between hope and doubt. You’ve been hurt before, but everything in you is screaming to believe him. You close your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, feeling the weight of everything that’s happened, everything that’s led to this moment. And then you open your eyes again, meeting his gaze.

"Tyler," you begin, your voice softer now, but still firm. "This is your last chance. If you mess this up, there’s no coming back from it. I can’t keep doing this. I won’t."

He nods immediately, his face lighting up with the smallest hint of relief. "I swear, I won’t. I won’t mess it up." His voice is more confident now, as if something in him has shifted—something that wasn’t there before.

You feel a knot in your chest loosen, though doubt still clings at the edges. But as you stand there, looking at him—really looking at him, all of the pain, the fear, and the uncertainty—starts to fade away. It’s like for the first time in so long, you feel like you can let your guard down, just a little. You give a small nod, the corners of your lips lifting despite the tears threatening to fall.

"I’m trusting you," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Don’t make me regret it."

Tyler doesn’t say a word. Instead, he steps in closer, his hands gently cupping your face, as if he’s scared you might disappear if he doesn’t hold on to you. His thumb brushes along your cheekbone, a slow, tender motion. The air between you both feels charged, full of something real, something raw, something that hasn’t been there in so long.

And then, without another word, he leans down, his lips finding yours in a kiss that’s soft but intense. His mouth moves against yours with such tenderness, like he’s trying to pour everything into it—his apology, his promises, his love—everything he’s been holding back. You melt into the kiss, feeling his warmth, his sincerity, his desire for you.

The kiss deepens slowly, as if testing the waters, but it’s gentle, filled with the kind of care and emotion that you’ve been missing for so long. And in that moment, all of the fear and doubt you’ve been carrying seems to dissolve, replaced by something that feels like home.

When the kiss finally breaks, you both stand there for a few moments, foreheads resting against each other, breathing the same air. Tyler smiles against your skin, and you can feel the weight of everything shifting.

"I won’t mess this up," he whispers again, his voice thick with emotion. And for the first time in a long while, you believe him.

[joejhang]

my aftg hot takes

most of these are pretty lukewarm but i'm gonna get flamed for them anyway but whatever. spoilers ??? ahead ??? idk read at ur own risk

i don't think andreil ever say i love you to each other; i feel like the discourse about this is virtually endless ever since nora said it but honestly her explanation was so valid??? they're such a show not tell couple it just makes so much sense for them to show the "i love you" in their actions than ever saying the words out loud. esp bc neither of them have ever really heard those words and have them mean anything real or true or actually loving. personally i think their little percentages and the "i hate you"'s and kisses and keys mean more to them than an "i love you" ever could. i'm not a purist on this tho i do think i could visualise it happening maybe somewhere along the road i just think nora's explanation for this is very very in line with canon andreil.

i don't hate thea muldani; i've made a post abt this but basically my thoughts around her are literally just: she's a human being, and she's never gonna be perfect. i also find it very...interesting how the fandom likes to flame thea (an explicitly stated woman of colour) for being "problematic" and a "terrible person/character" when she doesn't act all that different from andrew, neil and kevin (white men) ??? idk it seems a little strange to me bc she seems pretty on par with them on whatever moral compass this batshit crazy fandom has decided to impose on these fictional and very much morally ambiguous characters. anyway go check out my post i go a lot deeper into thea's character and why she does a lot of things wrong but i don't rlly think she's deserving of the insane amounts of hate she gets in the fandom.

i don't think andreil ever get married; this MIGHT be me projecting bc the idea of marriage is just a very complicated and rough concept in my mind but also just i feel like there's something so beautiful about andreil never really putting a label on their relationship??? like they never define it by calling the other their "boyfriend" or "husband" they just are. they have nothing "concrete" binding them like a marriage certificate but they choose to stay with each other through everything. idk it's real to me but again i'm not a purist people can do whatever they want.

i've said it before but i'll keep saying it till enough people hear me: the aftg fandom mischaracterises literally the main fucking characters; i'm mostly talking about andrew and ESPECIALLY neil here bc neil is not a sweet, sunshiney, oblivious, blushy softboy and andrew is not a cold, unemotional, stoic, "conceal don't feel" stone. since i've already bitched on and on about neil's mischaracterisation let's just talk about andrew for a sec. i think andrew is actually a deeply emotional person and is fully aware of the feelings he experiences. does he vocalise or express them often? no but more often than not they show themselves anyway. him crashing out after neil was kidnapped, letting himself get walked like a dog by neil for three books straight, choking allison for slapping aaron, idk i could go on. but yeah you get it.

i don't actually think neil is that oblivious; before people come at me like "but nora said!" or whatever yeah, i know she said he's as dense as a brick when it comes to people flirting with him. considering how much of the ec the aftg fandom likes to disregard allow me to disregard this little bit of it, yeah? this isn't me tryna impose my own projections onto nora's characters, this is lit just me tryna explain how i understand neil josten (he's my bsf btw). he literally clocks his feelings for andrew in trk (after his deep convo™ with nicky) but he just files it away for later bc he doesn't consider attraction or romantic interest anything to be thinking about considering he's got the mafia and his serial killer dad on his tail. i also don't really blame him for not catching onto andrew's feelings earlier (tho doesn't he get pretty fucking close during that one convo they have in exites in trk???? someone correct me if i'm wrong but) bc dude andrew was out here sending fucking mixed ass signals like bro was saying "you are a pipe dream" and "i hate you" in the same fucking conversations like??? neil has always taken andrew at face value and he's not about to question him now. he's also never confused or uncertain about nicky or marissa and what their comments about him meant, he just genuinely does not gaf about them so he doesn't acknowledge them or pay them any attention in his narration. i truly truly think his dismissal of all the advances made upon him in aftg were borne out of indifference, not obliviousness.

have already said this in detail but i don't think andrew's actually a misogynist; the wording doesn't feel right. i'd probably describe andrew's distrust of women (esp. those in motherly/mother roles) as a similar ingrained wariness that neil has for older men. this is something borne out of trauma and shitty experiences that takes time and trust to unlearn. nora says a lot of things the fandom disregards and for me, this is one of those things i'm a little iffy about. misogyny actually isn't reflected in andrew's actions at all, i'd say. does he respect women? no. but he doesn't respect anyone unless they've actually earned it. and among the people he does respect and care for there are women (renee, bee). he doesn't treat women any differently and obv doesn't think they're any weaker than men are (considering renee wipes the floor w him their first sparring sesh). andrew's an equal opportunity hater and i don't think he actually has any sexist or even misogynistic tendencies. i think what is there is just a slightly biased worldview of disliking/mistrusting mother figures, given his bad experiences w tilda and cass (they've left him w more long-term emotional damage that's probably rlly difficult and complicated for him to work through esp considering cass did love??? him and he did want her enough to be willing to suffer dr*ke to be close to her; there's more to it but for the sake of word count i won't go into it) but honestly it doesn't actually show that much??? if people wanna say he hates women, sure, but for one, he doesn't hate a lot of things he's just very indifferent to them and two, he holds a pretty similar apathetic distaste for most people and things, so it's not like a very big distinction. i also think the whole "no girls" thing w aaron was very much a personal thing, and his mistrust of katelyn probably came from aaron's past (apparently negative) experiences w other girlfriends and friendships in general. and if i remember correctly the deal wasn't even "no girls" it was just "family only" which is why aaron didn't make friends w the rest of the foxes either. i digress but i don't think saying "andrew isn't a misogynist" is robbing him of any nuance as a character.

i like nicky and honestly feel similarly towards him as i do about thea; he isn't perfect and never will be and i think while the way he acts towards neil and others (see: matt, kevin) is pretty untoward and inappropriate, i also do see where he's coming from, esp after aaron's explanation of it. that it's a defence mechanism coming from someone who's experienced a lot of prejudice and harm because of his sexuality. obv i think everyone can agree his assault on neil was fucked up but i think nora was right in saying that nicky was high and drunk and not rlly in his right mind at the time, and he does apologise and i'm pretty sure she also said he and neil work it out privately anyway. he's a messy character and definitely not perfect queer rep but again, he's pretty realistic, and i think he's honestly a rlly well-written and complex character.

[maxdibert]

Alright, let’s dive into the dumpster fire that the Marauders fandom has become last years and threw any sense of canon or character integrity out the window. Because let’s be real, the way this fandom has twisted the characters of the Marauders and the Death Eaters, all while turning Severus Snape into some one-note “creepy stalker,” is embarrassing. The fandom seems obsessed with scrubbing characters clean, romanticizing abusers, inventing tragic backstories for literal sociopaths, and piling up headcanons that turn a few lines in canon into fully fleshed-out, fanon-only OCs. And somehow, the only character who gets relentlessly dragged and demonized is Severus Snape—a character who has actual complexity and trauma. It’s hypocritical, classist, and downright gross.

Let’s start with Severus. Canon Snape is a guy who came from nothing: poor background, abusive father, dead-end town. He didn’t fit into the wizarding world, was relentlessly bullied by privileged Marauders, and still somehow managed to survive and make something of himself. But instead of acknowledging any of that, the fandom loves to reduce him to this “creepy obsessive” stereotype. People act like he spent every waking moment pining for Lily and never did anything else, as if that’s all his character is. Never mind the fact that he was actively trying to get out of a miserable life, or that he was, you know, bullied on a daily basis by James and Sirius, who had wealth, status, and freedom to do whatever they wanted. Nope, to the Marauders fandom, Snape is just the “weird stalker”—because acknowledging his struggles would mean admitting that their golden boys were actually kind of awful.

Meanwhile, the same people are out here bending over backward to make people like Barty Crouch Jr., Evan Rosier, and Regulus Black look like misunderstood anti-heroes. Let’s be clear: in canon, Barty Crouch Jr. was a straight-up torturer, Evan Rosier died laughing as he fought Aurors, and Regulus was a kid raised with a silver spoon who only started doubting Voldemort when he realized he’d been signed up as snake chow. But no, fanon has turned these guys into “tragic, complex Slytherins” who were “just trying to survive.” It’s like they’re desperate for some tortured prince narrative, so they invent personalities out of thin air to give us this dreamy aesthetic of sad, beautiful Death Eaters who “didn’t really want to be evil.” Apparently, actually following the text is too much to ask when you’ve got fanon fantasies to uphold.

Regulus Black, in particular, has become this absurd fanon martyr. In canon, Regulus was a kid indoctrinated into pureblood ideology, who joined the Death Eaters without much hesitation. Maybe he had a change of heart eventually, but it wasn’t out of some grand moral revelation; he just realized Voldemort’s loyalty was to himself alone. Yet, according to the current fandom, Regulus is some misunderstood hero who was only “pretending” to go along with Voldemort and was “forced” into his choices. They’ve built this tragic romance around a character who, in the actual books, doesn’t have even half this depth. This Regulus in fanon is practically an OC at this point, and people cling to this made-up version of him so hard that they’ll defend it like it’s canon. It’s hilarious, and it’s also just plain wrong.

And let’s talk about the Marauders themselves. In canon, James and Sirius were rich, spoiled brats who spent their school years bullying anyone who didn’t fit into their world. They were kids with every privilege, and they used it to torment people like Snape, who had nothing. But the Marauders’ fandom has turned them into these fluffy, “good-hearted” rebels who just made “a few mistakes.” I’m sorry, but nearly killing someone as a “prank” is a bit more than a mistake. Yet people will ignore that or wave it away as “boys will be boys” just to keep up the illusion that James and Sirius were lovable scamps. It’s maddening—and it’s also classist as hell. They erase all the ugly realities of the Marauders’ behavior and then turn around and judge Snape for being “obsessive” and “weird” when he was just trying to survive in a world stacked against him.

The classism in this fandom is so blatant it’s laughable. Snape is written off as creepy and unworthy of sympathy because he didn’t have a cushy upbringing or the social standing to make him likable. Meanwhile, characters like Barty and Regulus, who came from wealthy pureblood families, get excused and romanticized to no end. It’s like the fandom is saying, “Well, Snape deserved it because he was poor and awkward, but the rich kids? They’re just misunderstood.” It’s the kind of privilege blindness that makes you wonder if people actually read the books or if they’re just projecting their own biases onto the characters.

And let’s not forget the army of new OCs the Marauders fandom has invented just to justify this headcanon universe (Mary, Marlene, Dorcas, that that Pandora no one knows why suddenly appears here lol) You’ve got random “best friends” for Sirius, unnamed Slytherins who magically have no ties to pureblood supremacy, and love interests for Regulus who supposedly saw the “real” him. All these characters are based on nothing more than a few throwaway lines, yet people have fleshed them out to a level that they’re practically new characters in the universe. It’s like they need this entourage of made-up people to back up their version of the Marauders and Death Eaters because, without them, their headcanons would fall apart. And all of this, while they keep painting Snape as this creepy loner with no real friends or worth. The hypocrisy is unreal.

At the end of the day, the Marauders fandom has taken a bunch of characters with clear flaws and complexities and rewritten them into these sanitized, tortured souls while dumping all their scorn onto Snape. They’ll go out of their way to redeem a literal torturer like Barty Crouch Jr. or turn Regulus into some tragic hero, but they can’t bring themselves to even consider Snape’s trauma or the systematic abuse he endured. It’s all about maintaining this fantasy where their favorite characters are perfect and untouchable, even if it means twisting canon and ignoring the ugly truths about class, privilege, and abuse that is reflected into the story. And that, honestly, just makes the fandom look shallow, hypocritical, and completely disconnected from the reality.

[preciouslittle-bhaalbabe]

I keep thinking about the subtle horror of Wyll having absolutely no privacy whatsoever. Every time Cyrus stares into his eyes, Mizora could be staring back. This explains his reluctance to be intimate as well. In fact, that used to be the reason why in his EA version. He couldn't give himself to a person fully until he was free of the pact. And that is still true in a sense, but it's just not spoken. The reasoning now is "he wants his love story to be like the ones bards tell". Which is cute, but like...Idk. I hc that Mizora still heavily influences that. Nothing is private, and the last thing Wyll would want is Mizora mocking him while he's balls deep in his partner. I just, UGH. So much of his character can be explained and understood if they just added some voice lines back. They're recorded. They're in the files. Theo voiced them. They just...Don't. Larian even promised they'd fix his romantic greetings and instead they made it worse, only to "fix" it again by making it back to how it was in the previous patch. This turned into more of a rant than character analysis but yeah. I love Wyll, I want more from the character. So I guess my headcanon will just have to fill in the VERY large gaps.

[artist-issues]

Thoughts on Moana being a rather conservative story?

Girl’s parents want her to play along with current cultural expectations despite the looming threat of all the prosperity rotting away if they continue to live like this. Girl (by some form of divine intervention) has a sense that there’s a different, higher purpose she should be pursuing. Girl then finds out about the Old Ways and saves the world by Returning to Tradition.

The story seems surprisingly apt for the times and I never noticed it before.

Well, when you say it like that, yeah, for sure!

I think you could also say:

“Girl’s parents want her to play along with the traditions they think are important, while ignoring their cultural heritage. By getting in touch with what appears to be a higher power, Girl sets out to restore her cultural heritage. However, she does not save the world until she realizes that it is not the Higher Power who makes her special; she decides who she is, and decides to be special.”

I mean it’s not as well-written as yours, but it’s a take you could absolutely have. Because Moana is a “young girl character” and her parents are “grown ups who are wrong,” someone who is not conservative could very easily read progressive values into that.

But. Moana’s grandmother represents the oldest generation, and the oldest generation turns out to be right. So you could definitely start to argue that it’s not about “progressive understanding triumphing over the harmful outdated rule of tradition…” because Moana’s grandmother, the representative of The Older Traditional Generation, is right…

…About almost everything. Except for one thing:

And you know what? That mirrors the idea of the Ocean choosing Moana.

This subtle hint that something’s wrong with being told Who You Are and What You Should Do. What’s the counter-idea? That you should get to choose for yourself Who You Are and What You Should Do. Or else it’s harmful. And doesn’t really Count.

That is a Progressive, Liberal Idea. (since the context of this post is framing things with those terms.)

And Moana does perpetuate That Progressive Idea.

Because Moana includes this line:

The way the Higher Power versus the Power In You is framed is what makes the movie less “conservative values”-leaning than it could be.

First the Ocean Chooses Moana, and then she has to “choose herself.” 🙄 I hate the phrasing of that, but it is the simplest way to say it. First the Ocean tells Moana who she is. Then Moana appears to take that on faith.

But then the movie has Moana switch the focus on “The Ocean Chose Me, therefore I am This,” to “I want to be This, and I wasn’t really This until I decided that, so NOW I’m This.”

Moana is portrayed as not really Getting It, her character hasn’t developed or learned her Big Lesson yet, when she’s just taking things on the Ocean’s Authority. Same with Maui. He’s finding his identity in what people think of him, and in what he can do. When all along the movie tells us that he should’ve just…chosen what he wanted to be, for himself.

Moana is a really interesting movie. Because it definitely says that there are indicators, Outside of Yourself, of “Who You Are.” Those indicators are, in a nutshell “Where You’ve Been.” Before Moana belts out I AM MOANA, she’s explaining where she’s from and what she loves and yes, the fact that a Higher Power called her. But the idea is that she has to be the one to embrace that to make it “Fully True.”

Just like Maui has tattoos that tell the story of his life—they’re literally Outside of Himself, and a lot of it was out of his control, like his parents not wanting him or the gods calling him worthy of saving—but who he is isn’t portrayed as “Fully True” until Maui makes it true.

Even navigation, in the way to do it is:

So there’s this idea of choosing to be who you are. That’s not very conservative. Conservative values honor authority outside of oneself.

…But, you can go back and forth on that. Even in life, God made human beings for a purpose. That’s Who They Are. And He gave them free will. So they can accept or reject Who They Are. If they accept Who They Are, they reach the realization of that. He fixes what got warped (like Maui’s fishhook) and they can be what He made them to be after all. But if they choose to keep on rejecting Who They Are, well then, they don’t get to ever be Who They Are; eventually they choose Destruction over Being, and Destruction is what they get.

I think Moana’s a pretty interesting case. Ultimately I like it and I think I agree with it, sorta. It’s just that whole “I can trump the Oceans and the gods’ authority about Who I Am” that’s iffy. “The call isn’t Out There at all, it’s inside me,” that’s bad. “I know the way?” Too self-focused. Clearly you don’t always know the way, Moana, or we wouldn’t be in this mess.

…But still, if Moana had just gone home? Rejected the who the Ocean said she was, and refused to agree with it? Would;be been a worse story. Would’ve felt wrong. Wouldn’t it? Because the truth is, protecting her home instead of living in self-protective fear IS who Moana Really Is. So if she’d gone home, left it to someone else, it would’ve been and felt wrong, and that indicates that she could be wrong about the answer to the question “Who Am I?” And if she can be wrong, that means there’s a right outside of herself. And that’s good.

So Moana’s a really interesting case. It manages to walk the line and please everybody…even though it could just as easily displease everybody, because it walks the line. the line between free will and sovereign Higher Power. yeesh

[mescalpascal]

Title: With You (Dieter Bravo x f!Reader*)

Rating: A hard T, or a soft M.

Word count: 724

Warnings: Drugs; depression; self-hatred; suicidal ideation. Nothing is acted on, but it is all discussed.

*This is fully self-serving, so while I’ve chosen to list the Reader character as female and depict her as such on the header, there is no use of gendered pronouns or descriptors within the fic; Dieter calls Reader “babe/baby”.

Notes: This is unasked for, unwanted, unbetaed. I just needed to get some feelings out, and apparently the only pathetic way I could do that was to use Dieter.

(header by me; feather divider by @saradika-graphics)

“Babe?”

You don’t answer. You’re not even sure you would be able to if you wanted.

Instead, you sit cross-legged on the bed, staring down at the bottles in front of you.

It would be so easy…

You’re studying a bottle of Lexapro, wondering idly just how much would be enough, when you hear the faint sound of his footsteps outside the door. You try to quickly cover your tracks, tossing the blankets over your stash…

…but you aren’t fast enough.

“What the fuck?”

You meet Dieter’s eyes, dark and wide, like he’s seen a ghost. You open your mouth to try and say something, to explain yourself, but it isn’t fast enough. He’s sitting beside you quicker than you think is possible, his big hands digging under your blankets and coming up with the pill containers.

“What are you doing?” There’s a loud rattle as he tosses the bottles haphazardly onto the nightstand and fills the new emptiness in his palms with your cheeks. “Baby, no. Please talk to me. What were you going to do?”

“Nothing,” you breathe after several moments of silence. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t going to do anything. I just…” A long sigh, from the deepest parts of your body and soul. “I just realized how easy it would be if I wanted to.”

You force yourself to meet his eyes, and they’re wet and soft, and it breaks your heart in a thousand pieces to realize your stupid selfish moment of weakness is making him cry. You raise your hands to wrap around his wrists, closing your eyes against his soft thumbs pressing into your face.

“Baby, you’re scaring me,” he says; repeats it a few times. “Can I take you to the hospital? Can we get help?” He pulls your upper half closer, resting his forehead against yours. “I need you here. I can’t lose you. Please don’t go.”

“I wasn’t going to, Dieter,” you say again. “I— I don’t want to die. It just struck me that I could, if it got bad enough, if…”

You feel the sob that wracks him before you hear it pass his lips. “You can’t die before me,” he murmurs. Normally, this would be a joke, a way he teases you when you’re complaining about pain or frustration. Now, it’s pure fear. “This world needs you. I need you.”

Something breaks inside you, cracking the dull, near-numb ache you’ve been feeling, and you start to cry. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough,” you whisper.

He pulls you closer, so close you’re all but kneeling on his thigh, and he wraps you in the tightest hug you’ve ever felt. You close your eyes and breathe him in — the scent of weed, of patchouli, of wood and musk — and you wish that instead of not existing you could instead exist just right here for the rest of your life.

“You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met, babe.” He draws long, soothing lines along your spine with his fingers, but doesn’t release you. “But one thing I’ve learned in my eleventy billion hours of therapy is that strong doesn’t negate hurt.”

“Am I a coward for even considering the easy way out?”

That makes him release you, but only so far as to meet your gaze again. “Don’t you ever call yourself a coward.” Still crying, his expression is dark now, almost angry, but with a kind of softness behind it. “Would you think that if our roles were reversed right now? If you’d been with me any time I considered fucking offing myself in the past?”

“No…”

“So don’t you say that about yourself. You are not a coward.” He runs his fingers under your eyes, wiping away your tears. “I need you to understand that you’re not wrong for feeling this way, okay? I know it. I know it far too well. And I’m here with you.”

You sit that way for a bit, silent, but his hands resting still on your cheeks, yours on his shoulders. It should be awkward, but it feels…comforting. Grounding.

“Dee?”

“Yeah?”

You exhale heavily. “I think I need to talk to someone. Someone professional. And I want you there.”

He smiles, brushes your face with his thumbs, leans in and offers the lightest of kisses.

“I’ve got you, baby. I’m with you.”

[tubborucho]

'it's not much" <- 3700k words long

“To prevent our guard dog from biting,” Tubbo says wryly, when she finally flings the spoon away in frustration. “Punishment, they said.”

😭😭😭

Tbf, they would not stand a chance otherwise if they let Bad be absolutely free. And he should have been.

They hate them. The Eye. The spectators. The other contestants—the other victims . Them, and this damned mountain they call their home.

Crazy.

She knows she is a sinner. She just wants to be good.

Honestly, a powerful line. I will remember it for my demon characters in rp.

But also reminded this, lol⬇️

Pierre and Tubbo are gone, most likely down in the mines. Every piece of machinery they try to make ends up frozen over, so their current plan is to build their next attempt beside a pit of lava. Tina tries to tell them about the busted gears and cut wires she finds whenever they rig a new mechanism up, but they shrug her off. It’s not that they don’t believe her: they just can’t believe her. Tina doesn’t want to dampen their hopes.

Aw ;( Man, it was sad that Create didn't work when watching Purgatory, but reading it in a text like that, where everything is so much more real...

Pol is headed down to help Pac, but not after pressing a canteen of tea into Rivers’ hands. She catches Tina’s eye, and offers her a small wave. Rivers is a bit more of a lone wolf, but she is Tina’s favorite travel buddy on the rare occasion she ventures out.

I love Rivers so much. Have I ever told anyone how much I love her.

In the distance, she can hear Niki’s laughter as Missa excitedly tells her his plans for the day. All apple related, of course.

Apple boy :D

Bad kicks at the ground impatiently and Tubbo’s face turns pitying. “Sorry, man, I don’t think it’s right to take you. You can’t make any callouts and you haven’t eaten since yesterday. Just…keep watch, and we’ll figure out how to take that thing off tonight.”

Tubbo is right. He is so right. But also :(((((((((((((((((((((( Let my guy maim, he did nothing wrong

Bad growls, low and inhuman and right from his chest. Tubbo doesn’t flinch. He’s held Bad off before when he was much worse: rabid with bloodlust and fully armed. “Keep an eye on him,” he tells Tina, and brushes past them to the boats.

I will never not feel like taht⬇️

over Tubbo and Bad's dynamic in purgatory. It just makes my brain go haywire. Or honestly, Bad in all the Soulfire. It's just 'what if this powerful destructive being cared for you and let you be its keeper' AAAAA reminds me of one clingy duo fic taht is Doctor Who crossover, and Tubbo is a Time Lord that is known to be the perfect killer, The Virtuoso, but he lets Tommy hold his crown (the metaphorical leash here) and decide, where he can go apeshit.

ANYWAY.

For the rest of the day, Bad prowls the shore, back and forth, back and forth, like a restless predator. Usually, he never scares Tina when he’s like this, always adding in some dumb quip or joke. But his jaw is locked in place, so he doesn’t speak. He just hunts.

*giggling, twirling my hair and kicking my feet in the air* Евгений, вы такой опасный (<- a very niche russian meme)

A winter storm is upon them. It’s not natural—nothing down here is. This is a punishment specifically for them.

*sigh* of course it is

Tina whirls into action.

Leaving Bad be for now, she sprints over to where Niki, Lenay, and Missa are, and sends them down to the underground base with Pac. “Start a new farm there,” she tells them as she presses the last of their seeds into Niki’s hands. “Plant everything, remember to place torches. We need it warm and finished by tonight.”

Whenever she relays instructions, she’s always half-expecting a fight, and it stuns her every time when her teammates listen without complaint. Once they’re off, she begins dismantling the tents they’ve been sleeping in.

TINA THE GOAT. THE MVP. I LOVE HER. WE ALWAYS BEED TO TALK MORE ABOUT HOW EPIC SHE WAS AND AND AND *foaming, Anderson's Little Mermaid style*

“It’s so fucking cold here,” he complains. “Anything interesting happen?"

“I think it’s gonna snow,” Tina says dully.

Tubbo raises an eyebrow and points at the flakes swirling around them.

“No, like a snowstorm, idiot,”

They are both idiots <3

Tina watches as Tubbo examines the muzzle with the critical eye of an engineer. “How the fuck did they attach this?” Tubbo huffs, wrestling with the lock. Finally, he wedges the pickaxe between a weak link and strikes down, hard, and the muzzle falls to the ground.

Bad doubles over to cough, rubbing at his throat. “Language,” he mumbles, voice rough with disuse.

Bruh /affectionate

Tubbo ignores him, watching as Bad flexes his jaw. That’s their leader, Tina thinks, admiringly. He had done his job for the day: ensured Soulfire made it another day, brought back the monster they call friend to the playing field. Now, Tina thinks with trepidation, it’s her turn.

This makes me so so so incredibly happy for no good reason. This paragraph on standalone can make my dopamine levels shoot up.

Tubbo does, in fact, love the new base, and he tells her so, mind already racing with ideas for farms and contraptions.

Of course he does. It's the best base a Coach could need🥲

“No, I just—” Tina crouches down, sifts through snow. “ It’s all gone . This is—” Tears are coming now, and she blinks them away furiously. “I thought—” She slams her hand down into the snow. “ This was all I had! ”

I will kill everyone for you, Tina. Just point a finger. I will kill them.

The underground base is small, just one long, low-ceiling room, but they’ve made it surprisingly cozy. Lanterns and flowers hang from the ceiling, and a soul campfire crackles blue. It’s green and lush and warm in here, and the tension in Tina’s shoulders can’t help but drain away.

Home

As Tubbo searches for bandages, Trousers toddles up to her with a pouch of tea leaves and she takes it with a smile.

TROUSERS. I WILL ACTUALLY GENUINELY CRY. I MISS LIL BUDDIES.

“What did you do to get sent here, anyways?” she asks finally. “What are your sins?”

“I don’t know.” Tubbo shrugs. “Fucked around and found out, I guess.”

“Seriously,” Tina prompts.

“Seriously,” Tubbo agrees. “I tend to try and stretch the limits. Usually, I get away with it. But this time—”

“Fucked around and found out,” Tina finishes. “Yeah, I get it.”

My guy will press his forehead to the gun if only to know how long it will take the wielder to make a decision to shoot.

Would include a clip as proof, but unfortunately can't add videos to reblogs.

Tubbo falls silent for a moment. “We’re gonna win,” he says finally, and he has a viscous determination that sends a shiver down her spine. “We’re gonna win, and we’re gonna save everyone’s kids and then we’re gonna ram a sword through that motherfucker’s eyeball.”

And in a perfect world you did.

she’s missed the way he drives her up the wall.

“Oh, thank you, Bad. I can almost forgive you for being absolutely deranged” Tina

" No , Tina," Bad says, as if that weren't a perfectly valid question. "It's a bone saw. I thought you'd need it. They're growing back."

Tina cocks her head. "What?"

Bad motions to his head. "Your horns."

“You—” Tina’s stomach drops. “You know.”

“Well,” Bad replies, and his shoulders hunch. “So do you.”

AWW.

“Why do you always ask me these questions like it’s some test?” Tina says, frustrated. “Don’t you trust me?”

When Bad speaks, his tone is light. “Can I trust you?”

“You’re my team,” she says fiercely. “You. Tubbo. Everyone. And I’m not just saying that! I mean it. I’ll fight for you if you fight for me.” She wants to be needed, so badly.

Bad finishes his work. He hands the knife back to her, and she takes it by the hilt and slips it in her pack. There’s the barest hint of a smile on his face, sad and knowing. “Then I think we’re on the same page.”

Okay, this js just SO. I miss Team Soulfire. They were insane. In the most deeply soul-crashing way.

“I follow your instructions!”

“You do not and it stresses me out every day—”

Bad does not make it easy for Tubbo🤣 /affectionate

“Tubbo, you’ll die in fifty years and Tina and I won’t even miss you,” Bad replies petulantly.

Liar💙

“Oh, did she ask you too?” Tubbo spins on his heel, walking backwards so he can face them both. “Yours seem pretty obvious. No offense, Bad.”

“Offense taken,” Bad assures him.

They are horrible. I lovevthem.

“Let’s head back home, then.”

Tina swallows the lump in her throat. What a simple word, lovely and warm.

They head back home.

🥹🥹🥹

Okay, overall, I loved it to death. It was so good. I am just pacing in the kitchen. I need more. Please, if you EVER feel like writing more – do it. It's just. There's something just so. ARGH.

Thank you.

bone-deep | soulfire found family fic (tina/tubbo/bbh centric)

The night after they muzzle Bad, Tina tries to feed him spoonfuls of tea through the bars. It’s bolted under his jaw, allowing him to do little more than bare his teeth. But he lets her attempt anyways, eyes soft and patient even when her fingers tremble under the cold. All they have is tea. That, a few loaves of stale bread, and half-frozen carrots. All they have is tea, Bad can’t talk, and Tina is so cold.

Or: Purgatory AU, without the prior events of the QSMP. Team Soulfire tries to survive.

[tinypuffballofanger]

man you gotta love how people will shout from the rooftops how autistic laois is and then in the next breath call him a little freak that no one can possibly understand the perspective of

[qkmlh]

My hot take is that we didn’t even need hater Ben and there was no real emotional impact with him and the siblings cause he was pretty much a flat character with only some blimps of likability and even then

[shannonsketches]

He said "Fuck this shit, I'm out" I'm crying. Toriyama's Vegeta was so top shelf 🤌

(From Neko Majin Z Chapter 5!)

[volivolition]

suggestion do you have... any wants? like obviously you do but like? suggestion my guy my ourple boy. both the easiest and hardest to write. you need a skill to say something to move conversation along but it doesn't fit any skill in particular? about 80% of the time you can have suggestion say it and it will make sense. but like actually characterizing him... how do i define you dude... what makes your character tick... urgh. i dont get you yet. im trying to understand but you are difficult.

[rawliverandgoronspice]

re: last post, but yeah I think there is a way, unintended by the game for sure but still not canon-breaking, to understand TP Ganondorf the very same way we understand WW Ganondorf post mental breakdown, and suddenly a loooot of things start to make a horrible kind of sense

There is a way to make TP Ganondorf, not only not stupidly written, but also utterly heartwrenching

AGAIN YES it's not what the game intended, but literally except for maybe (maybe!!!) Wind Waker, and that reading is being semi-actively dismantled by Nintendo at every turn ever since that happened, when the hell has any zelda game given that dude any kind of grace

[loud-whistling-yes]

nobody touch me i just read kj encore and SO NO ONE'S GONNA FUCKING TALK ABOUT HACHI COMPETING WITH JOKER TO BECOME A THIEF???????

[st-peculiar]

I uh. Finished the first chapter draft for Ouroboros. Little sneak peaks below the cut I suppose.

“Deep down, you know that something has changed. You can’t quite put your finger on it yet.

-

That’s what it is. You’re alive.

-

Death does not always mean an end. It is simply a pit stop on a very long highway. You still have many miles to travel.

It is best if you get back in your car and begin to drive again.

-

How long can you take it? The way you have a mouth but no voice to speak through.

Can you take it?

-

You realize you are being rebuilt. It is uncomfortable and itchy knowledge. You feel it in the prickling numbness at the tips of your fingers, the eternal ache in your temples, and most of all, you fear.

Your aches and pains are all fear.

You are no longer human.”

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

the thing about chilshi is that i see it as super one-sided on chilchuck's part and that's some shit he's bringing to the grave with him