#very cathartic though very healing

[littlekinng]

how's that for glorious purpose? - unintentionallyangsty - Loki (TV 2021) [Archive of Our Own]

[bookishfeylin]

Hmm. I didn't want to do this, but after receiving a lot of harassment here and on Ao3 I'm debating abandoning ACOHAS. It is just... not fun to go there and expect negativity all the time about THAT ONE THING so my internet experience would be much better by simply stopping with that one fic BUT it also is the fic of my heart and I have so many arcs I want to complete, so I have really mixed feelings on it :(

[funhouse-mirror-barbie]

I may go into more detail about “Sinsmas” later, but I did want to talk about what I considered to be the one scene/sequence that I thought was very well done and that I truly enjoyed—Octavia’s song, “I Will Be Okay”.

(Song/Character Discussion below)

Octavia’s song is almost everything I could have asked for. A somber echo of Stolas’ song from season 1, Octavia’s I Will Be Okay, finally, finally, gives Octavia a voice and the chance to express her grief over her father’s abandonment.

For the first time in the series, there’s no one to tell Octavia that she should give her dad some slack or that she should forgive him. She’s finally allowed to be upset, to fully mourn her relationship with Stolas and to get mad about what happened. She’s finally allowed to start working towards accepting the ways Stolas’ neglected her, and begin healing from that pain and trauma.

Octavia’s experience is both terribly heart-wrenching and, in the most painful way, freeing. The lyrics reflect that perfectly, with Octavia acknowledging that while she’s not okay now because of everything Stolas put her through, she WILL be okay, and will grow into her own person without him.

The song is a direct response to Stolas’. Octavia is answering him, saying “Yes, I will be okay. Not because of anything that you were supposed to or failed to provide me as a father, but because I will forge my own path, and in doing so will heal from the pain you caused me.”

It’s a bittersweet song about finding the strength to cut contact with someone you loved who has repeatedly failed you in the worst ways, and who isn’t going to change.

I do have one “criticism” for this song and sequence, not because anything from it was poorly done, but because, in my opinion, the song’s visuals could have been even better.

The following scene was in the original storyboards for “I Will Be Okay”, and was changed in the final episode:

I think the decision to change the visuals for these lyrics in the song was a mistake. Please don’t get me wrong, the animation in this entire episode was fantastic, my critiques of Helluva Boss are almost never about the animation.

But the above sequence just has so much more emotional weight to me. It’s the visualization of Octavia realizing she can’t rely on Stolas, that she has to look to herself for comfort.

Octavia taking her younger self from her neglectful father’s arms, symbolizing that she’s accepted that Stolas cannot be depended on and that she’ll have to take care of herself now, is such a powerful image.

It really is a shame to me that they cut this scene, because I think it fully encapsulates everything Octavia has been through in such a simple and effective way. I think the scene really loses something by cutting this visual.

With all of that said though, Octavia’s song, and the scene where she FINALLY calls Stolas out for his behavior were very cathartic for me. I know that the scene’s intent was most likely to make us empathize with Stolas for losing his daughter, but I found myself empathizing only with Octavia, and hoping that she gets the time she needs to heal.

I would love it if the show actually let her decide whether or not she wants Stolas back in her life, but given the way HB’s writers portray women, I worry that it’s likely some big event will happen that “reveals” Stella to be awful, and Octavia will forgive Stolas just like that, and will probably end up apologizing to him instead (like in “Seeing Stars”)

Anyway, just like Octavia being the only good thing in Stolas’ life, “I Will Be Okay” was, in my opinion, the only good thing in “Sinsmas”. (well that and Octavia calling Stolas out)

[hom3landr]

Little Miss Why So

18+

Homelander X GN!Reader

(While the song title referenced is gendered, the reader in the fic is written as gender neutral)

Very loosely inspired by the song of the same name by The Amazing Devil

“Why won’t you believe I love you if I’m not hurting you?” He says.

Written for Cozy Corner Kinktober 2024 for the prompts Crying, Biting, and possibly Magical Healing Cock?

CW: Dubcon, Toxic Coping Mechanisms, Toxic Relationship Dynamics

When he finds you, you’re sobbing. Fat tears stream down your face and drop onto the pavement below. Your eyes are swollen and sticky with sorrow and the force with which you wail stirs up bile in your gut. Rain drenches you and the cloying stench of rot from the wet trash in the alley mimics the disgust you feel for yourself in that moment.

This isn’t about him but you know he’ll take it that way. He seems to take any emotion that isn’t pure adoration of him as some personal slight, as though he’s not good enough to keep you distracted from your pathetic life and its struggles. He sees it as a competition between your world and his. You see it as your reality. You’d wanted to find a quiet place to lick your wounds alone. That’s why you escaped to this filthy alley in the first place. But he found you anyway, vulnerable and ill-prepared to handle his ego.

He doesn’t say anything. He just stands in the alleyway entrance with his hands on his hips and a cock of his head. His face is blank as he looks you over, his lip curling slightly in distaste. You know you look a mess with your nose leaking snot and your cheeks hot and swollen. You don’t say anything. You don’t have the energy. You just sniffle and wait for the inevitable blast wave.

He stays silent, the only noise is the soft patter of rain and the squelch of his boots on the wet ground as he walks toward you. He crowds you against the brick and grips your hips to spin you to face the wall. You brace yourself with your hands and he pushes in close behind you. The soft bulge of his cup hides his erection but you can tell by the eagerness with which he presses against you that he's hard. You rest your head on the wall and sigh. You don’t have the energy to reciprocate but it doesn’t seem like he expects you too.

“You look so good like this,” He purrs in your ear. It surprises you. You know you look like shit. “So pure and perfect.”

He grinds against your ass and peppers your neck with greedy kisses. His hands quickly fumble with the button of your jeans and he slides the zipper down with a hiss. His hand dives into your underwear, testing your readiness. You aren’t at all really but it doesn’t seem to deter him too much. He strokes you exactly the way he knows that you like and your body responds accordingly. You arch into his touch even though your crying hasn’t ceased. He hushes you softly.

You hear the hiss of his own zipper and he uses his knee to coax your legs further apart as he tugs your jeans down past your ass. You offer no resistance. He spits on his palm for some lubrication and strokes himself before pressing in. He goes slow but it still stings a bit without the usual extended preparation. You hiccup and whimper at the stretch but despite all his flaws, you trust him not to cause you any damage. He’s careful and strangely you find that you don’t mind the pain. It’s cathartic.

“Just let it out. That’s it. You’re doing so good.” He coos in your ear as he bottoms out. You grunt, uncomfortably full but satisfied by the distraction from your own thoughts. He doesn’t move except to resume stroking you, humming in pleasure at the way you clench tightly around him.

“I want you to cry for me until you can’t anymore. Don’t fucking stop.” He growls. You nod weakly as you allow the tears to fall freely without shame. There’s nowhere for you to hide with the way you’re pinned between the wall and his hard cock.

The first thrust hurts. You haven’t fully relaxed around him yet although you’re slick enough to take him by now. He grunts, rubbing you faster while his other hand reaches up to grab your jaw, turning your gaze to meet his. He searches your eyes for something and he seems to find it. The cold appraisal in his expression warms slightly as he leans down to lick the salt from your cheeks.

“Give it to me. Don’t hide it.” He moans against your skin as he begins to increase the speed of his thrusts. Your discomfort is quickly evolving into pleasure now at the intensity of the sensations he’s filling you with. You moan and his grips tightens bruisingly, purple inevitably beginning to bloom under his fingers. You cry out and he throbs inside you.

“This belongs to me.” He growls and his pace is brutal as he uses you.

You’re beginning to understand his fervor now. You begin to understand why he feels so entitled to your pain. How many times have you seen him at his weakest? How many times have you held him while he cried and comforted him as his shoulders shook with sorrow and self-pity? He doesn’t like uneven scales. He’s gloating, gleeful that he’s not the only weak one in the relationship.

It’s fucked up…but that’s him. How can you begrudge him when this is all he’s ever known? After all, it is helping. The overwhelm of sensation is the only thing that could have pulled you out of that headspace. You need this wake-up call as a reboot of your brain. Your mournful cries have evolved into needy moans and your hips press eagerly back into his. A kinder response wouldn’t have reached the root of your hurt. Like lancing a boil, you need him to drain the poison out of you.

He continues to whisper sweet nothings in your ear despite the way he’s fucking you as though he doesn’t give a damn whether you live or die. It’s cold and emotionless, using you as merely a sleeve for his cock. But his breath against your ear is warm and he nuzzles sweetly against your temple. You try to speak but the wind is knocked out of you every time his cock pounds against that soft spot inside you.

“I don’t want to hear anything come out of your mouth unless it’s your pathetic sobbing. That’s what you came all this way for, so fucking do it.” He pants breathlessly against your ear as he nears his release.

You do, although the tears that prick at your eyes are those of pleasure now. You’re loose and quivering around him and every nerve ending tingles with electricity. Your nail tears as you claw at the brick to brace yourself for the edge he’s quickly driving you towards.

You cry out his name and he bites your shoulder harshly, the bloody reprimand staining his teeth.

“What did I just fucking say?” He hisses before lapping hungrily at the wound and groaning darkly at the iron tang that fills his mouth. He can taste the endorphins in it and it drives him crazy.

The sudden sharp pain hurls you into a world ending orgasm and your legs give out. You almost collapse until he presses you bodily against his wall. His pace shifts into a deep filthy grind right into your spasming hole as he holds you up with his body. You wail and clench around him and it doesn’t take much longer at all until he’s spilling into you, his release leaking out of you and dripping down his balls onto the slick pavement below. He moans and whines in your ear, his demeanor shifting from cruel to needy in the span of a heartbeat.

You struggle to catch your breath, agony and delight filling your veins in equal measure. It’s perfect. It’s just what you needed. He’s just what you needed, every cruel beautiful inch of him. You don’t merely endure him. You need the sharp edges of him to keep you grounded. You need that pain.

His arms wrap around you. He peppers your sore shoulder with sweet kisses as a silent apology. You’ll need to bandage it up when you return but you aren’t going to worry about it right now. You’re content in his embrace. The two of you wait there in silence as the silver rain continues to fall all around you, causing the dirty alley to glint prettily in the moonlight. Your chest still aches but you can survive it.

“Let’s get you back home. I’ll run you a bath and have the kitchen bring you up your favorite. How does that sound?” His tone is so kind and warm, a far cry from his earlier demeanor. You still aren’t quite capable of speech but you nod.

“There you are.” He coos, and as he scoops you up into his arms and off into the sky, you slip away into a comfortable doze.

You know it’s not healthy but it’s all you have. It’s all he can give you. If it gets you results then you can learn to be content with that. So you lean into him and let the rain wash away the remnants of what ails you.

[munson-blurbs]

Billy Hargrove is into you, and you assume that you don't deserve better than that narcissistic douchebag. When heartbreak inevitably happens, Eddie Munson is there to pick up the pieces.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), oral (f! receiving), protected p in v, Billy is a POS, reader is insecure about her body (no descriptions given, though she mentions not liking her stomach)

**Billy is very manipulative to get reader to sleep with him, though she does consent**

WC: 5.7k

A/N: This is based on two real experiences I had when I was younger. It's incredibly self-indulgent, but has also been wonderful for my healing process. I hope it can help someone else, too. (Also, sorry if it's rambly; it was cathartic but also emotionally difficult to write).

--

As the last swimmer exits through the iron gates, you breathe a sigh of relief at the end of another shift. Lifeguarding at Hawkins Community Pool wasn’t necessarily a difficult job, but it sure was tedious. Your flip-flops thwap against the pavement as you pad into the locker room to get dressed, skin sticky from sunscreen and that infamous mid-July humidity.

“So,” Heather says, twisting her blonde hair into a ponytail as she changes from her swimsuit into shorts and a t-shirt, “you ready to hear that secret?”

You nod enthusiastically. It’s all you’d been thinking about since you’d climbed down the lifeguard tower when her watch duty began, and she’d whispered that she had something to say to you privately. 

Heather’s eyes gleam as she announces, “Billy told me he thinks you’re hot!” She claps her hands together excitedly. “Not that he needed to; anyone can watch him check you out all day long,” she adds with a smirk. 

“Me?” you ask incredulously, unable to muffle your surprise. On instinct, you wrap your arms around your waist protectively. Heather might be comfortable changing in public, but your own body insecurities made it torturous for you to even be naked privately. 

“Yes, you!” your co-worker giggles. “You should talk to him.”

You’re still mulling over the prospect of Billy Hargrove being into you when your ride pulls up to the pool gates. Waving goodbye to Heather, you hop in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van. He picks you up every night you work, and the two of you always split a joint in your backyard before he heads back to the trailer park. It makes your crappy summer job all worth it; God knows the pay isn’t even going to cover your textbooks when you go back to college in August.

“Save any little gremlins today?” he jokes, turning down his music so he can hear your answer.

You shake your head and laugh. “Nah, just yelled, ‘no running!’ about 84 times.” Leaning back in the seat and stretching your legs, you glance over at him. “But Heather told me something interesting.” Eddie cocks his eyebrow, and you take that as a sign to continue. “Apparently, Billy Hargrove thinks I’m hot.” You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. Sure, he’s not exactly your knight in shining armor, but he’s an attractive guy who has a thing for you.

“Oh, ew.” Eddie wrinkles his nose. “Please describe the look on that douche canoe’s face when you turn him down.”

“Who says I’m turning him down?” you quip, crossing your arms over your chest. 

Your best friend sighs. “Well, you should,” he says pointedly, never one to mince words. “Guys like Hargrove only want to get in a girl’s pants and then find a new victim.”

“Why are you being such a bummer?” you snap. Eddie just keeps his eyes on the road, oblivious to your glare. “If Jeff was about to get laid, you’d be throwing him a goddamn parade!”

He chuckles tersely. “That’s because Jeff getting laid would be a fuckin’ miracle.”

You look around, exaggerating your movements for emphasis. “Well, asshole, I don’t exactly see a line of people forming to sleep with me, either.” With that, you pull your knees to your chest and turn your body so that your back is to him.

The car is silent, save for the sounds of Metallica’s Ride the Lightning album crackling through the speakers. After what seems like an eternity, Eddie pulls into your driveway and throws the van in park.

“Did…did you still wanna smoke?” he asks quietly, twiddling with a loose thread on the ripped knee of his jeans.

“Nope.” You jump out of the van, slamming the door shut behind you. “And you don’t have to drive me home tomorrow. I bet Billy will do it.”

You hear him calling your name as you stalk into your house. Honestly, you could really use some weed right now, but you’re too infuriated at him to push it all aside for a quick smoke session.

The next day, you make a point to sit next to Billy when you take your break. He’s smoking a cigarette, occasionally flicking ash into a chipped tray on the table. 

“Can I bum one?” you ask, pointing to the rolled tobacco between his plush lips. 

Billy smirks, reaching for the pack of Marlboros and holding it out to you. “Didn’t peg you for a smoker, sugar.” He passes you his lighter, and you spark up and inhale deeply.

“I usually prefer something greener, but this’ll do.” You take another drag, trying to work up the nerve to say what’s on your mind. As the smoke curls around your mouth, you notice Billy’s eyes trail down the curves of your body, as though he’s trying to drink you in. “Something I can help you with, Hargrove?” you tease, impressed with the way you easily flirt with him. It’s so unlike you, but it feels good.

“Yeah,” he says, chuckling softly. “You can hang with me tonight. Got the place to myself, so, y’know…” He trails off and raises his eyebrows, looking at you expectantly.

Your stomach flip-flops despite yourself. This is what you want, right? No more waiting around for Prince Charming to sweep you off your feet. It’s not going to happen, never going to happen, not when you look the way you do. And if a gorgeous man like Billy Hargrove is actually willing to have sex with you, you’re in no position to turn him down. “O-Okay,” you stammer, hoping he doesn’t sense your nervousness. “I’m working till nine tonight; is that–”

“Perfect,” he interrupts, flashing you a megawatt smile. “I finish at six, but I’ll stick around just for you, pretty thing.”

Pretty. He called you pretty, and he wants you. Wants you enough to hang out at work for an extra three hours just to be with you.

The rest of your shift drags by; all you can think about is Billy. The way he feels, the way he tastes, what he looks like underneath those swim trunks.

The only problem is that he’ll also want to see you naked. The thought sours your mood. You try not to catch glimpses of yourself in the bathroom mirror after you get out of the shower, and now you’re about to let him see you, completely vulnerable.

Stop being such a baby, you scold yourself. Beggars can’t be choosers.

Billy’s waiting outside the locker room once your shift ends. He takes your hand in his larger, stronger one, and leads you to his car.

“Seems kinda silly, getting changed out of that cute little swimsuit,” he whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your spine, “when you’re gonna get undressed again so soon.” He leans you up against the passenger door, pinning your hips back and kissing you hungrily. One hand roams under your t-shirt to the swell of your breasts, breaking away when he feels the fabric of your bra. “You tryin’ to hide these from me, sugar?” He starts to reach for the clasp, but you stand up a bit straighter.

“Did you wanna, like, grab something to eat?” you ask shyly. “We can stop by Benny’s on the way to yours if…if you like burgers?” You cringe as the words leave your lips. Could you sound any more pathetic?

Billy just chuckles patronizingly. “That sounds like a date, and, uh, I don’t do dates.” He leans in, taking your earlobe between his teeth. “But I do other stuff real well.”

Something isn’t right. This isn’t what you want, but you should want it, and so you push down the apprehension and try to focus on the man in front of you. “That’s fine,” you murmur, even though it isn’t. People have casual sex all the time. It doesn’t mean he’s any less attracted to you. Like he said, he’s not the dating type, so why cause problems where none exist?

“I don’t know if I can wait until we get to mine,” he growls, and you can practically taste the spearmint gum that he was chewing earlier. “Might just have to do you in the backseat, hm?”

You nod as he opens the door for you, pretending for a millisecond to be a gentleman. He clambors in behind you and slams it shut, pulling you onto his lap so you’re straddling his waist. You can feel his erection pressed against your clothed sex, and you allow yourself to smile. You did this to him. You got him hard. Not Chrissy Cunningham, or Heather, or Bo Derek. You.

He starts to take off your shirt, but you push his hands away. “Something wrong?” he asks, giving an exasperated sigh. Did you already fuck this up?

“N-No, it’s just…” you avert your gaze, too embarrassed to make eye contact. “Could I keep my shirt on? I don’t really like my body, and I’d just feel better if I didn’t, um, take it off.” Heat blazes behind your cheeks, and you will yourself not to cry.

“For fuck’s sake,” Billy grumbles under his breath, flexing his biceps as he stretches. He lets his hands fall to your ass with a soft smack. “You got me all worked up, and now you’re not even gonna let me see your tits?”

You duck your head in shame. “I’m kinda insecure about the way I look,” you admit, hoping it will soften his heart. Though kinda is an understatement. 

He rolls his eyes, running his tongue over his teeth impatiently. “Y’know,” he finally says, squeezing the plush of your ass, “you might feel better about yourself if you got naked for me.” 

You inhale sharply; that’s not at all what you expected him to say. Maybe something reassuring; something about how much he liked the way you look. Instead, he’s clearly irritated with your hesitation. 

“M-Maybe.” It’s worth a shot, and you slowly peel off your top and unhook your bra, letting it fall to the floor of the car. You watch anxiously as his eyes flit across your bare chest, waiting for his reaction. An indication that he just has to have you and only you.

Instead, he clicks his tongue and simply says, “not bad.” He fumbles with your shorts button before unfastening his own. He strokes his cock lazily, staring at you. “Touch yourself, sugar. Get yourself ready f’me.”

There’s something screaming at you that this isn’t right; he should at least attempt to get you off instead of asking you to do the work for him. But you do as you’re told, not wanting to humiliate yourself further. 

You shimmy out of your shorts, pushing your panties aside and rubbing slow, timid circles around your clit. You’ve done this plenty of times to know what feels good, yet you can’t seem to get it right when it counts. Billy doesn’t notice—or care—that the moans floating past your lips are fake, and he lines himself up with your entrance. 

“Condom?” you remind him, and he rolls his eyes again.

“Doesn’t feel as good,” he grumbles, but he reaches into his wallet and pulls out the square piece of foil and tears it open, sliding the rubber over his thick cock. He pushes into you, not bothering to take his time as he ruts up. “Move your hips for me,” he tells you. “Bounce up and down; damn, do I gotta walk you through everything?”

Tears prickle at your eyes, and you manage to blink them away before he can see. Maybe this’ll get easier with time, you think. Maybe I’m just too nervous. You will yourself to relax, holding onto his broad shoulders as you lean down to kiss him.

“Feels good, yeah?” Billy grunts, and you nod as you zone out. You throw out a few more half-hearted whines as his hips stutter against your pelvis and he spills into the condom. “Fuck, there ya go, take it,” he croons, sweat trickling down his forehead. As soon as he rides out his orgasm, he’s hoisting you off of him so he can clean himself up. “Same time tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure.” You try to sound enthusiastic. “Could you, um, drive me home?”

“Whatever,” he shrugs, but waits for you to put your clothes back on and climb into the passenger seat.

He wants to do this again tomorrow, meaning he wasn’t completely repulsed by your body. So everything should be good, right?

The next week and a half is filled with lust-fueled backseat romps, usually ending with Billy coming and you…well, returning home to use your trusty vibrator. You’re starting to feel a bit more comfortable, but not in your own skin. It’s more that there’s a certain power behind Billy choosing you when he could be with literally anyone else. You hold your head a little higher, walk a little taller. Even your parents notice on your weekend trip to visit your grandparents in Indianapolis, though you didn’t clue them in on the source of your newfound confidence.

When you get back to the pool that Monday, you’re about to whisper in Billy’s ear to ask if he has a second to “check out a situation in the locker room” with you. What you find stops you dead in your tracks.

His arm is wrapped around Heather. They’re laughing together and she presses her lips to his cheek; he tilts her chin so he can kiss her passionately. It’s more tender, more loving than the way he kisses you.

The ground starts to spin, and you grab onto a plastic chair to steady yourself. As soon as Heather walks away, you march over to Billy.

“What the fuck?” you hiss, trying to keep your volume down. You wince as your voice cracks, giving away the sadness tucked inside your frustration. “Are you with Heather now? Like, with her?”

“Uh, guess so,” Billy replies snidely, twirling a toothpick between his teeth.

You bite your lower lip, willing yourself not to cry. “I thought you said you weren’t the dating type?”

He shrugs. “Just kinda happened,” he says nonchalantly, as if he didn’t just destroy your world. “You were away, she asked me to go to Scoops and grab some ice cream; one thing led to another, and…” he trails off. “Not like you and I were exclusive or some shit.”

“Because you didn’t wanna be!”

“And why do you think that is, huh?” Billy shoots back. “Why do you think I’d rather be with Heather than with you?” He scoffs, leaning back in his chair slightly. “You’re so goddamn uptight, y’know? Always worrying about the way you look, about people seeing us in the car. Heather just…goes with the flow. I can’t deal with someone so high-maintenance. Actually, most guys can’t.” With that, he storms out of the break room, leaving you trembling.

A wave of nausea washes over you as you slump down in a seat. All you wanted was to be wanted, and you blew it. Billy’s right; your insecurities keep you unloveable.

You try to take deep breaths, letting the tears slip down your cheeks. Your shift doesn’t start for another ten minutes, so you pray that you’re able to collect yourself before you’re due to start your watch. You’re sobbing too hard to notice the two boys peering into the lounge, watching you with growing concern before dashing to the nearest payphone. 

You slide on your sunglasses to hide your red, puffy eyes. The last thing you need is people asking you what’s wrong. Just as you’re about to walk over to the lifeguard stand–to switch with Billy, of all people–you feel a tap on your shoulder.

Eddie.

“Um, hey,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his head nervously. “Will and Dustin called; said they saw Hargrove yelling at you, and you crying. Told me to ‘get my scrawny ass here, stat.’” He gives a terse chuckle. “Exact quote, by the way.”

You want to wrap your arms around him and never let go, but you remember what he said to you. Worse, that he was right. “‘M fine,” you lie, and Eddie sees right through it.

He gingerly takes off your sunglasses, heart breaking as he gets a glimpse of your tearful expression. “C’mere,” he says, pulling you in for a tight hug and pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. It’s so tender, sweet, and selfless. It’s Eddie.

“Go tell your boss that you’re not feeling well, yeah?” he says finally, still not letting you go. “We can go grab something to eat, and you can tell me everything.”

“‘M not hungry,” you shake your head, “and I just wanna go home.” Your voice is whiny, but you’re too sad to care.

“Okay, well, you’re still leaving,” Eddie insists, and you don’t have the energy to argue. “The sheep,” he gestures to where Dustin and Will are standing, and they wave as though they’ve been caught, “will tell your boss that you’re sick. Lady problems or whatever.” You feel his fingers intertwine with yours as he leads you to his van. “And you can tell me as much as you want, ‘kay?”

You nod wordlessly as Eddie gives the younger kids a thumbs-up. He normally chooses the music, whether he’s the driver or the passenger, but this time, he tilts his chin towards the radio and says, “all yours.”

You turn the dial until you hear a Fleetwood Mac song, expecting Eddie to crack a joke or complain about your selection, but he just taps the steering wheel to the beat. When he drives to a gas station to fill up his tank, you don’t think anything of it until he comes back out with a bag full of Haagen-Daaz.

“Got all your favorite flavors,” he announces, plopping back into the driver’s seat. “I know you said you’re not hungry, but you will be at some point. So…sustenance.”

A smile tugs at your lips, and you manage a small “thanks,” as he drives you back to your place. When he pulls into the driveway, he waits awkwardly for you to say anything else.

Finally, he breaks the silence by handing you the bag from the Shell station. “Don’t want this to melt,” he offers lamely, frowning when you burst into a fresh round of tears. You hear him mutter, “that’s it,” and he kills the engine, jumping out of the van to run to your side. “Up and at ‘em.” He pulls you out of your seat, scooping you up and flinging you over his shoulder with ease. He kicks the van door closed, walking to your front door before setting you down. 

“That’s my favorite method of transportation,” you giggle softly, and he breathes a sigh of relief as your humor peeks through. 

“Save a horse, ride a Munson, right?” he jokes back, blushing when he realizes the double entendre he just made. “Uh, anyway, I can leave if you want…” He stuffs his hands into his back pockets nervously. 

“You can come in,” you say, unlocking the door. He follows you, heading straight for the kitchen and grabbing two spoons from the drawer. 

“Figured we could start with cookie dough,” he says, holding out the pint. “Ladies first.”

The two of you sit on the couch in comfortable silence as you dig into dessert. Halfway through, you look up at him through misty eyes. “I’m waiting for the ‘I told you so,’” you say softly. 

“Huh?”

You tell Eddie everything: Billy’s claim that he wanted something casual, his reaction to you asking to keep your shirt on, the venom he spewed earlier today. “I never should’ve trusted him.”

But Eddie’s seeing red, fists clenched and jaw squared in pure rage. “The fuck did he say?” He stands up so quickly that he nearly knocks over the pint of ice cream. 

“Where are you going?”

“To kick his sorry ass!” Eddie exclaims, grabbing his keys from the table where he tossed them. 

“He’s not worth it,” you tell him. “Just…can you stay here and eat ice cream with me? Please?”

“Fine,” Eddie grumbles, plopping back down next to you. “But I still wanna punch him in the face.”

“You and me both,” you agree, taking another spoonful before posing the question you’ve been too afraid to ask. “Do you think I’m a slut?”

Eddie nearly chokes on his bite of cookie dough. “A slut? Because you slept with some douchebag?”

“No,” you say quietly, “for having sex with someone because I wanted to feel beautiful.”

His whole body deflates. “That’s why you…why wouldn’t you think you’re beautiful?”

You bark out a tense laugh. “Where to start? Um, my face, my hair, my body…oh, and apparently, now I’m too insecure and uptight to love, so…”

Eddie cradles your face between his strong, calloused hands. “Listen to me,” he says. “You are the most goddamn beautiful person on this Earth. Your eyes…I could stare into them all day. You have the cutest nose I’ve ever seen. Your smile makes me smile. And your hair…no matter how you wear it, you always look good. Sometimes you say things like, ‘ugh, my hair’s a mess today,’ and I’m just flabbergasted.”

“Flabbergasted?” you interject, amused by his word choice.

“Flabbergasted,” Eddie affirms. “And your body is…I’m gonna sound like such a creep here, so forgive me, but your body is so fucking hot. Like the night we had that argument, you said something about no one else wanting to sleep with you. But I know for a fact that that’s not true.”

“It’s not? Who wants to sleep with me?”

Eddie laughs nervously as he slowly raises his hand. “Um, me? But not, like, in a smash-and-dash way. Like in a take you on dates, hold your hand, be your boyfriend kinda way? Oh my God, just tell me to shut up. Please.”

“You’re just saying that to cheer me up,” you mutter.

“Nope. It’s the truth. Cross my heart.” He makes the slashes across his chest with his fingers. “Wait…the thought of us together cheers you up?”

You nod shyly. “Just never thought you’d be into me like that.”

“Well, I am. I so fuckin’ am, holy shit.” Eddie looks like he wants to kiss you, but he’s holding back. “Can I take you on a date? Maybe tomorrow?”

“I’d love a date with you, Eddie Munson.” You watch as a grin spreads across his face, and you rest your head on his shoulder. He lays his arm along the back of the couch, not quite sure whether to put it around you. That’s how the two of you fall asleep as the remaining ice cream melts in its container.

Seeing Billy at work the next day still stings a bit, but it’s easier than it was. You know he’s an idiot, a player, a manipulative piece of shit. And you have a date with Eddie, who is the kindest, gentlest soul you’ve ever met. And you deserve that kindness.

Eddie picks you up from work as usual, but instead of his typical ripped jeans and a concert tee, he’s wearing…well, un-ripped jeans and a concert tee. But he smells like a new cologne as he kisses your cheek, blushing as he pulls away.

“You look absolutely incredible,” he muses, reaching over to hold your hand. “Seriously, I’m so lucky you agreed to go out with me, shit.” He smiles at you, shaking his head.

“What?”

“Nothin’, I just…” He can’t seem to shed his dopey, lovesick grin. “Told myself I wasn’t gonna kiss you; like, kiss you kiss you, until the end of the date. But you just look so goddamn gorgeous.”

“Shut up,” you duck your head, trying to hide from him. “I’m the lucky one. My date is hot and has a kickass personality to match.”

“Guess we both got lucky tonight.” Eddie bites his lower lip when he realizes what he’s just implied. “I mean–”

You squeeze his hand, effectively silencing his racing thoughts. “Where are you taking me?” you ask, trying to change the subject. It’s not that you were embarrassed by his Freudian slip, but after what happened with Billy, you weren’t looking to rush into sex.

“You’ll see,” Eddie says, excitement building in his voice. A few moments later, you’re walking into the Coffee and Contemplation Café, with Eddie holding the door open for you. Your sundress swishes along your thighs as you take a seat across from Eddie. He immediately takes your hands in his, caressing them with his thumbs.

“Eds?”

“Mm?”

“I need to look at the menu.”

“Oh.” He lets go of your hands, looking a bit sad as he does. “Sorry, baby. Shit–can I call you that?”

“Yeah,” you say. “I really like that, actually.” Baby. You’re Eddie’s “Baby.”

When the waitress comes around, you order a vanilla latte, and Eddie orders coffee with cream and two sugars. “That’s what Wayne always orders when we go to the diner,” he explains. The two of you decide to split a piece of crumb cake–one slice, two forks.

“This is a really nice date, Eds.” You wrinkle your nose. “Hmm. I need a cute nickname for you now, huh?”

Eddie taps his chin as though he’s deep in thought. “How about…stud muffin?” He feigns offense when you giggle. “What? Am I not studly?”

“Oh, the studliest,” you reassure him, still laughing. “I like ‘babe,’ though. Because you are a babe.”

“I dunno…kinda like stud muffin better,” Eddie teases, taking a sip of his coffee. “Now, tell me all about your day.”

And so you fill him in on every detail, from the kid who peed in the pool to the mother who berated the lifeguards for “allowing” it to happen. “Like we can control their bladders or something,” you add with an eye roll, and Eddie cackles. A strand of hair falls in his face, and you tuck it behind his ear.

“Thanks, baby,” he murmurs, peering at you from under impossibly long lashes. That’s when you lean in and kiss him, soft and slow and sweet. He’s not expecting it; probably thinking he was going to initiate when he dropped you back off at home. His lips remain frozen for a second until his brain registers what’s happening. Then he’s kissing you back, palm on your cheek.

“Was that okay?” you ask finally. Eddie’s response is to slam a $10 bill on the table and grab your hand, leading you back to his van. He kisses you again against the side door; it reminds you of how Billy kissed you that night that you…

Eddie notices that you’ve stopped kissing him back, and he pulls away. “Baby? You good?”

“Y-Yeah,” you stammer. He’s not Billy. Not even close. Not even a little bit. You take a deep breath. “Just nervous, c-cause the last time I did this, it, uh, didn’t end well for me.”

Eddie wraps his arms around your waist, gently pulling you towards him. “Hey, hey,” he coos. “There’s no rush, yeah? And I’d never–never make you do anything you’re not ready for.”

“I know.” And you do. So for now, you just rest your head against his chest, listening to the beautiful sound of his heartbeat.

The next month before you leave for school is filled with dates, each better than the last. Eddie takes you to the carnival, the drive-in movie theater, picnics at Lover’s Lake…anywhere he can. The kissing gets more fun; you’re able to focus on Eddie–your Eddie–and not on your past experiences.

The night before you’re set to go back to college, you’re ready to take that next step with him. The two of you are sitting on his bed and listening to music; your plans for an outdoor music festival having been squandered by the pouring rain. You move closer to him, straddling his waist as you press your lips to his neck.

“‘M gonna miss you s’much,” you pout, moving your mouth to his. “Want you, babe. All of you.”

Eddie gives a terse chuckle. “I want you too; so fuckin’ bad. But we don’t have to do this just because you’re leaving. I’m not gonna break up with you. In fact, I…” he swallows thickly before continuing, “I think I love you, baby. Shit, no; I know I love you.”

“I know I love you, too,” you smile, kissing him again. “And I want to have sex with you because I love you, and I want to show you.” You dig your fingers into Eddie’s hair, nuzzling your noses together. “Is that okay?”

“More than okay,” he breathes, hands settling on your hips. “You’ll let me know if you wanna stop, right? Just tell me, and we can go back to cuddling. Promise me.”

“I promise,” you say, and it’s the truth.

Eddie nods. “Okay. On your back, baby. Let me take care of you.” 

You do as he asks, and you feel his lips trail down your torso, stopping just before he reaches the throbbing ache between your legs. “Yes?” he looks up at you patiently.

“Yes.” With that, he unbuttons your shorts and tugs them down your legs, running his middle finger along your lace panties. He shivers as he feels how wet you are, all for him, and he nearly tears the underwear in half trying to yank it off of you.

“Wanna taste you,” Eddie mutters.

“Y-You can taste me.” You whimper, and Eddie wastes no time licking a soft stripe along your folds, easily finding your clit. “Right there.” His lips wrap around your sensitive bud, flicking his tongue over it. “Holy shit, yes, right fucking there.”

Eddie detaches from your sex for a second, chin already shiny with your slick. “Keep makin’ those pretty noises f’me, please.” He sounds just as desperate as you do as he plunges back between your legs, this time slipping a finger inside you as he licks. You’re moaning, and there’s no faking it this time. Eddie’s touch has you floating, You can vaguely sense him rutting up against the mattress, so turned on just by eating you out. He’s holding onto your hips, eyes never leaving your body.

“Gonna come, feels s’good,” you whine, never wanting this feeling to end. You grind up into his face as you ride out your orgasm, gripping the sheets and screaming his name. “Eddie, Eddie, I’m coming, holy fuck!” After he brings you back down from the high, you push yourself up onto your knees.

“Where ya goin’?” he asks. “Was that too much?”

“Just wanna return the favor.” You lean over to rub him through his tented jeans, but he shakes his head.

“Not tonight,” he mutters, “I’m too pent up. I’ll never last in that perfect little mouth of yours.” He kisses you deeply, and you can taste yourself on his lips. “Can I be inside you?”

“Yes, babe. Please.” You look down, realizing that your shirt is still on. You want to show him all of you, let him touch every last inch of your body, but you hesitate to take it off.

Eddie must be able to read your mind, because he tilts your chin in his direction. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wanna see you naked,” he admits, “but only if you’re ready. You can keep it on if you’re more comfortable.”

You inhale in for three and exhale for three before you respond. “I’m ready. I’m comfortable.” You lift the shirt above your head, revealing your bare breasts. The incredulous stare on your boyfriend’s face is almost comical. “Are you okay?” you giggle.

“No, I think I died and went to Heaven,” he says, letting his thumbs graze over your hardened nipples. He undresses himself in record time, revealing his long, thick cock. Pre-cum drips from the tip. “Baby, I wanna spend all night touching you, but I’m gonna bust if–”

“It’s okay,” you interrupt, looping your arms around his neck and kissing him. 

He reaches into his dresser drawer, pulling out a condom and removing it from its wrapper. “Can you put it on me?” he whispers, and you oblige, rolling it down his length. He hisses at your touch, too sensitive to ask you to linger there. He sets you back on the pillows, slowly pushing into you a little at a time until he’s fully inside. “Good, baby?”

“Mhm,” you mewl. “S’good. You can–you can go faster, whenever you want.”

Eddie threads his fingers with yours, putting your hands up next to your head as he rocks into you. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he groans. “The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I love you, I love you, fuck, I love you.” He punctuates each I love you with a kiss to your lips.

“I love you, Eddie. ‘M all yours.”

“All mine,” he echoes, “my baby’s all mine. And I’m hers. Her pussy belongs to me and–shit–my cock belongs to her.” He squeezes your hand, not possessively, but as a reminder that it’s him. It’s him, it’s you, it’s the two of you together. His eyes never leave yours, and he suddenly smiles. “You make me so damn happy.”

“This has been the best summer of my life,” you agree, “and it’s all because I have you, babe.” 

His chest rubs against yours ever-so-slightly, and the sensation of your breasts has him weak. “I’m gonna come.” His expression is apologetic. “Shit, I didn’t wanna–”

“Let go for me,” you assure him, feeling yourself come undone as you speak. “We c-can come together.” Your second orgasm of the evening happens on his cock as he spills into the condom with a wanton moan. He’s still for a minute, catching his breath before removing himself from your warmth.

“I love you,” he says as he kisses you, sliding off the barrier and tying it. “Let me toss this, and then can we cuddle? I kinda just wanna hold you.”

“I’m down to cuddle before round two,” you say, laughing at his dumbfounded expression. “Don’t worry; I’ll give you a few minutes to reload.”

“I’m not worried about that,” he says, climbing back into bed and sighing happily as you snuggle into his chest. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

“Forever?”

“Forever.”

--

[suspiciouscharacter1895]

Good Omens Fic List

At this point, I have produced 11 19 Good Omens fics. If that's the sort of thing you enjoy, peruse my catalog! All these are Crowley/Aziraphale, and most feature angst, cathartic love confessions, and smut (though not all). Have a suggestion? Love one of them? Let a girl know. I love doing this, and I love connecting with people who care about this universe as much as I do. I truly hope you enjoy!

See AO3 for full tags.

No Nightingales (T, 14.7k) Post S2 - It's been a year since Aziraphale left Crowley on Earth and neither of them are faring very well. A moment of crisis brings them together again, and this time it's up to Aziraphale to save Crowley. Plot heavy, mature themes but no sexual content.

Whatever You Want (E, 3.5k) Smutty little sequel to No Nightingales but can absolutely be read as a standalone. Aziraphale works through some guilt and Crowley works through some wish fulfillment. Gentle and loving first time.

Something I Can Do For You (E, 3.2) Post-bullet catch (1941), Aziraphale grapples with the implications of realizing he is in love with his best friend. Lighthearted, loving, slightly desperate first time.

Quite Sure (E, 2.7k) Can be imagined as a sequel to Something I Can Do for You, but doesn't rely on it in any way. Established relationship set 10 years after the bullet catch. Considers when Crowley fell for Aziraphale, featuring meditations on the whole thing with Job and sweet lovemaking, with Aziraphale taking care of Crowley.

Worship in the Bedroom (E, 3.6k) Post-S2 - Aziraphale is back from Heaven and he and Crowley are hiding from Heaven and Hell. No plot really, but lots of worshipful, healing, sensual sex, with Crowley working through some angst and being cared for as he deserves.

The Whole Darn World Seemed Upside Down (E, 5.2k) Post-S1 - Crowley has unresolved feelings he needs to work through. If only he were good at the whole vulnerability thing. Angst and mild conflict, followed by love confessions and...well you know.

Tempt Me (E, 6k) Set in an unspecified future when they figure it all out and are happy together. A fun little romp with Aziraphale being very into Crowley tempting him. Like VERY into it. Light dom/sub elements.

If You Like (E, 4.4k) Set the night of the failed S1 Armageddon. Aziraphale goes back to Crowley’s flat and both of the boys are forced to deal with some long-repressed feelings. If only they were better at talking. Angst-heavy, especially for Crowley.

Worth Knowing (E, 3.6k) Sequel to If You Like set after the Ritz. Aziraphale thought everything would change after they slept together, but everything seems to have gone back to normal. If Crowley isn't going to do anything about that, Aziraphale will. Happy ending! Loving, soft, sweet, love confessions.

Flashes of Love (G, 3.2k) NO SEX TOTALLY WHOLESOME. Set a few weeks after the averted Second Coming (which all worked out fine) in a world where they are happy and together. Aziraphale has an inkling that Crowley may be able to sense and share angelic love in a way most demons can’t. Crowley agrees to give it a shot.

Forgive Me (E, 1.6k) LOTS OF SEX NOT AT ALL WHOLESOME. Post S2 - Aziraphale muses on what he should want from Crowley, and what he actually wants. Both rough and gentle sex follows, entirely imagined by Aziraphale. Heavy angst, please check tags.

My Angel (E, 2k) Companion to Forgive Me, from Crowley's perspective. Pieces can be read in either order or independently. What he should want his first time with Aziraphale to be, and what he actually wants. Both rough and gentle sex follows, entirely imagined by Crowley. Heavy angst.

Might As Well Do It Properly (E, 5.7k) What if Shax and the demon horde didn't show up at Aziraphale's Regency ball? Maybe Aziraphale would use some leftover magic in the air to do something he's been meaning to do for a long time. Gentle, loving first time (with dancing!).

I Need You (E, 3.8k) What if Crowley and Aziraphale were together before the events of S2? What if Aziraphale left anyway? What if he came back, just for one night? Angsty, sexy.

You Were Right (T, 6.2k) The origin of the apology dance in 1650. Crowley does something that could get them both in a lot of trouble. Aziraphale jumps to some conclusions, and has to try to make up for it. Plotty, pining, sweet. T for some mature themes.

Wherever You Are, I’ll Come to You (G, 5.7k) Just after The Fall, Crawly has no memory of who he is or where he comes from. But he has the funniest idea that he needs to find someone. Descriptions of The Fall, an appearance of Lucifer, and some descriptions of C&A’s relationship as angels.

A Favour (G, 3.1k) Two weeks after their memorable evening in 1941, Aziraphale can't get Crowley out of his mind. Then the demon shows up on his doorstep asking for a favor. Mutual pining abounds. My contribution to the GOMM minisode minibang, written based on the delightful art of elliart7.

Something Dangerous (G, 3.7k) Aziraphale draws Crowley sometimes. Always from memory, and he always destroyed the drawings when they're finished. He can never get his eyes just right though. One day in 1963, he tries again. Just gallons of pining.

The Wrong Thing (E, 8.8k) C&A are hunkered down in the bookshop during London's second COVID lockdown. Aziraphale suggests a little truth or dare to liven up an afternoon. Both truths and dares ensue. Bit of fun, bit of emotion, slightly more than a bit of porn.

[novlr]

I’ve heard the term ‘catharsis’ before. But what does it mean? And how can it be used in a story?

The word “catharsis” comes from the ancient Greek katharsis, meaning “purification” or “cleansing.” Think of it as a purging of emotions, primarily through art or experience. Merriam-Webster offers a few definitions, including the purification of emotions like pity or fear, a release that brings spiritual renewal, and even the bringing of a complex issue to consciousness for expression. Sounds like a lot! While these definitions seem complex, we can keep them simple. 

Catharsis is essentially the release of pent-up emotions, like anger, fear, sadness, or grief, that are causing inner turmoil or issues. It’s about finding a way to express or process these feelings, leading to a sense of relief and release. Think of it like this: someone overwhelmed with anger might find catharsis by screaming into a pillow, hitting a punching bag, or even just having a conversation about what’s bothering them. The key is that the emotion is acknowledged and released.

You know those moments in a good movie or a good book where you’re crying, or laughing, or angry? The scene is just taking you away. It’s when the moment passes and the emotions drain away – that’s catharsis.

Not all releases are positive, however. People can lash out or say and do things that, while it lets the emotions go, aren’t constructive. Screaming at someone or punching them in the face can act as a cathartic moment but with very different consequences!

This release, this purging, is what allows for healing and growth. Catharsis often deals with significant emotions tied to impactful events—the kind that leaves a mark or a wound. Think of the anger and sadness following a betrayal, the grief after a loss, or the fear after a traumatic experience. When these emotions are finally purged, there can be a sense of vulnerability, yes, but it’s a vulnerability that paves the way for healing from the events that led to them.

Think of it like getting food poisoning. You’re nauseous, sick to your stomach, miserable. Then it all comes out. You feel weak, but hey, you finally feel better. Catharsis is like that, but emotional rather than physical. The emotions roil and churn, they’re making things uncomfortable or difficult. And then they finally come out. You’re better, but you’re also a bit weak and vulnerable after.

Writing to achieve catharsis

Sometimes, expressing emotions directly to others can be difficult. That’s where writing comes in. It can offer a similar cathartic release to physical expression. Many people find solace in journaling or diary writing, using the page to explore their experiences and emotions. By giving these feelings a voice on paper or screen, writers can find their own release — a way to finally let go.

Catharsis for our characters

As writers, we can offer our readers catharsis through our characters. We often put our characters through the wringer—challenging situations, tragic backstories, internal and external conflicts. But this is where the magic happens. By allowing our characters to experience and process their emotions, we create opportunities for readers to connect with them on a deeper level and experience catharsis vicariously.

Conflict is the driver of storytelling. It’s not just about physical fights, though. Conflict can be any kind of struggle. A conflict can be a disagreement between two people, a character’s internal struggle with fear, a battle against injustice, or even a confrontation with grief. The goal is for the reader to empathize with the character’s journey. When the character finally confronts their conflict and releases those pent-up emotions, the reader can experience a similar sense of release.

Catharsis isn’t limited by genre. It can be found in any story where characters experience genuine emotions. If your characters can feel, they can experience conflict and a slow but steady emotional buildup. This buildup will eventually lead to a breaking point, a moment of release—either positive or negative. They might confront the source of their pain head-on, or they might lash out in harmful ways. Regardless of the outcome, that moment of release is the catharsis. And from that point, healing (or further conflict) can begin.

Writing catharsis: some practical tips

Writing effective catharsis can be tricky, but a good starting point is your own experience. Think about times in your life when you’ve felt strong emotions and how you expressed them. How did it feel before, during, and after the release? Did you yell? Cry? Exercise? Talk to a friend? These personal experiences can inform how you portray your characters’ emotional journeys.

When developing your characters’ conflicts, consider how they’ll react and express their emotions. What are their “purification rituals”? Do they internalize their feelings? Do they seek solace in nature? Do they confront others directly? Do they engage in self-destructive behaviors? Just as importantly, consider what happens after the release. Do they find peace? Do they seek reconciliation? Do they spiral further? The bigger the event that brought things about, the greater the release.

Moments of catharsis can be pivotal in a character’s development. They can mark a turning point, a moment of transformation. By letting go of past traumas or negative patterns, your characters can finally heal from events and find a new path forward.

The power of catharsis

Writing catharsis isn’t just about creating emotional scenes. It’s about developing complex, relatable characters. By showing how characters process and release strong emotions, you reveal their inner world, their motivations, and their coping mechanisms. This depth can make them more believable and engaging.

Catharsis can be a catalyst for change. It can prompt characters to make important decisions, change their behavior, and embark on new paths. It can be a very transformative experience, leading to personal growth and healing.

And remember, the story doesn’t end with the cathartic moment. The aftermath can open up new possibilities, creating new conflicts or resolutions. There’s a new clarity that often follows a release bringing a chance for characters to see things from a new perspective. They might find new strength, new direction, or a new understanding of themselves.

Ultimately, writing catharsis allows you to explore the full spectrum of human emotion. It’s a powerful tool for character development, plot progression, and creating a truly resonant reading experience.

[steveyockey]

Summing up Reich’s 1933 book Character Analysis, Timofei Gerber writes that the repressed person begins to build an armor around themselves that prevents any danger from crossing their psychic threshold, but in doing so also prevents any pleasure from getting in and prevents any pleasure from being released:

“The movement is thereby successfully blocked, but with that, all feelings are essentially killed and result in an inner deadness. This feeling of emptiness, of a loss of a contact with the world...is that which causes nihilism, the urge towards self-destruction, the feeling of meaninglessness.”

In this fortress-like psychic condition, anything that could heal you (therapy, sex, connection to your fellow human being) is seen as a threat. Pleasure becomes danger.

We can see this in Nazi Germany’s vilification of the seemingly-hedonistic Weimar era. And we can see it today in politicians blaming of everything negative on society on, say, trans people (what is transitioning if not chasing one’s pleasure despite the dangers). And we can see it in ordinary people’s ever-increasing fear of any and everything that makes being human great, which are things that inherently involve danger: leaving your house, socializing, having friends, letting your kid possibly break their arm by falling off a bike.

This fear of pleasure and humanity and the creation of a psychic armor to “protect” oneself from this fear, is not a tenable situation. Humans need some form of release. And this is how people become sadistic. Gerber writes:

“If the armor gets too thick, it causes itself unpleasure; and if that unpleasure is not to lead to self-destruction (depression), the inner pressure needs nonetheless be released somehow. So as to at least feel something, the individual must force itself to release some energy after all, through the cracks in the shell. But as this energy has to fight itself through a very thick shell, and is also accompanied by anxiety, it does not produce pleasure either. The violence of this ‘piercing through’ expresses itself as destructive urges, as sadism.”

Extrapolate this to a societal level and you see how DoorDash is basically Hitler. Just kidding…kind of…But you can maybe see how the blockage and fear of pleasure is a necessary precursor to outright fascism!

Reich’s work jives with the work of Adorno, who believed (in the summation of historian Peter E. Gordon) that, “the authoritarian personality does not always turn explicitly fascist; its politics may remain dormant, only to emerge under certain social-historical conditions.” And jives with the work of analyst Erich Fromm, who believed that, “the amount of destructiveness to be found in individuals is proportionate to the amount to which expansiveness of life is curtailed.” And jives with the work of Hannah Arendt, who wrote of how, “isolation may be the beginning of terror; it is certainly its most fertile ground.”

The more isolated and fearful we become of each other, of our own freedom, the more susceptible we become to the sadistic processes that provide some form of pressure release. Which is to say: people not only become Nazis out of fear or hatred, but because it is cathartic for repressed people to become fascists.

Though, of course, it is not possible to individually reverse the conditions of our society—the isolation, the fearmongering, the actual increased dangers many of us do face out in the real world (police repression, for example)—we are still responsible partners in this interplay.

That interplay can either be something like a death spiral towards our ultimate destruction—society making us afraid, us becoming more cut-off and thus prone to dehumanization, that making society more isolated, and on and on and on. Or it can be a…life spiral…like a helix of DNA—ourselves and the outside world (which is to say: each other; everyone who is not us) wrapped up together, mutually necessary to build something much greater than each of us are capable of on our own.

We may not feel like we have much power these days. But that is also what the fascists us want us to think. They want us to sense the real dangers of the world, and allow ourselves to become scared of them, to build up impenetrable psychic armors to protect ourselves from them until we become inhuman, and thus are able to invalidate the humanity of any and everyone else.

So, go, do the things that make you scared. Do not fear trauma. Go have sex. And do drugs. And dance. And eat outside your own damn house. I’m gonna go pet a cat. If I don’t, I will, in many, very real ways, die.

[blenselche]

@polyshipweek dancing prompt drabble/pic combo. Sort of toys w/ the idea that Yue can channel herself through others. I feel like she'd only be able to do it on a super blue moon (to keep it special) but that's just me.

(another @imactuallyacartooncharacter suggestion, I think my randomizer wheel has a crush on you lol)

Sokka notices that the moonbeams playing at the edges of their shadows seem to intensify and merge into an attentive, cosmic spotlight. Suki sighs into a soft, far-away smile, eyes sliding shut. He's worried he may step on her foot if she isn't paying strict attention to his gawky, still-too-long legs, and as he makes a subtle move to nudge her back to attention her lashes part over glaciers, hue three shades lighter than they should be. "I'm happy for you," his new bride whispers, though he only barely recognizes the voice that leaves her lips and the glass ball of anxiety in his gut cracks. Sokka's breath hitches when realization settles over his shoulders, shoulders beneath hands that begin healing aches that have lived in his body for so long that he cannot remember what it's like to not hurt every morning. She titters before whispering "you're good for each other." The single syllable is hard to form, it's been so long since that name has left him. "Yue." "I wanted to offer my congratulations," Yue ekes softly through a tiny, private grin, and Sokka simpers. "You-" he sniffs his feelings back up before he makes a mess of himself. "Sure have a startling way of saying so." "I can't very well speak for myself, Sokka," she chides him playfully, and the chuckle that escapes him feels almost cathartic. "We don't have long." "Sure we do." His palm lowers to her hip, clutching her closer. "You're around all the time, every night if it's not cloudy!" he chuffs wetly. "You're just— usually a little quieter about it." Sokka flashes her a wide, brave smile, reassuring and too big for his face but just as much 'him' as she remembers, and Yue laughs freely, head thrown back and singing to the stars with a beautiful noise he hasn't heard in oh so many years.

(The costumes are based off of tidbits the crew has stated about atla's culture influences. I thought it'd be cute if they wore each other's traditional attire)

[mouseonamoose]

I absolutely loved Demonology. It was an extremely generous gift to the fandom and to the GO mythology as a whole. I loved how you fleshed out Aubrey as a real character and the story being told through her perspective was so effective and clever. I was amazed at how true to the character of Crowley you were so that you were able to write him so authentically into new scenarios. Each chapter was such a surprising and original adventure but with a beloved friend. I loved the humor and pain in this story and so glad it wasn't any shorter than it was. Also, I was reading it at the Denver airport when Crowley made that quip about Aubrey's smell so I felt very connected to the story at that time, very funny private moment. I think this was the most enjoyable story I have ever read and also, got me to see why I personally related so strongly to Crowley. I have found validation as well as escapism from the perennial grief I feel at this time of year. So thank you thank you thank you.

I also read the Aziraphale story, which I felt had some very funny, LOL moments and was heartbreaking. I do wish that you had felt the freedom to write a healing journey before you saw season 2 and the stuckness that Aziraphale was still in. I think it can be really cathartic and beautiful to imagine what it would take for them to become healed. That was the magic of the Crowley story because you actually delivered the answers you promised which is so rare in any book. You showed us the magic that it took with trust and time and expression for Crowley to restore his heart.

I'm going to go back and read the story all over again.

The imagery that stuck with me the most was Crowley wedged up in the corner of the ceiling, and also the most glorious chapter where he shared his poetry with Aziraphale. Also I am a plant lover so all that stuff with the tree and Bud was just phenomenal.

You are an extremely gifted writer and I hope you continue to write and publish and I really, really hope you write some more stories from this universe. If there are any others please please let me know!

Oh, thank you. I'm blushing! I am so grateful that you found both valuable, and shared this with me.

I think, having done both Demonology and Angel-Centered now, I have come to this conclusion: anything but a satisfying resolution for Crowley would have been a disservice to his character; anything but unsatisfying heartbreak for Aziraphale would have been a disservice to his character. I don't mean this at all in a harsh way, regarding Aziraphale, and I have no doubts that he and Crowley both will have a well-deserved Happily Ever After. But, in therapy? And especially within the confines of the sort of fanfic I was writing (e.g., as much as possible, avoid adding to canon; as much as possible, only extrapolate and comment upon canon)? What other sort of option could there be, for Aziraphale?

I don't know.

Or maybe I'm just experiencing the same bittersweet frustration about Good Omens, right now, as everyone else, and that's clouding my thoughts.

You sent a follow-up message, clarifying you'd appreciate recommendations for other Good Omens fic. I am terrible at providing recommendations, unfortunately, but I hope others will be happy to offer some. There is one I can think of, though! Factory Settings is superb. I'm blown away by the clear confidence in the plotting and characterizing. I wouldn't mind it being our S3.

[twig-tea]

TsukuTabe S2 Is Perfection

I’ve been waffling about what to write about Tsukuritai Onna to Tabetai Onna s2, which completed last week (and which we have access to at all thanks to the hard work of @furritsubs). I have had to just give up on getting across how much this show means to me; there's no way I'll be able to communicate these feelings with words. Season 1 was excellent but Season 2 was everything I wanted and more that I didn't know I needed. This is going to be more disjointed than usual because I don't know how to be coherent about this show (and because tumblr ate my first two attempts).

At its core, Tsukuritai Onna to Tabtetai Onna asks what if we were all just a little bit more conscientious and kind to one another? What if women were given space to be themselves and to make the choices that were best for them? This is the world of TsukuTabe, and I'm so grateful to have had the chance to inhabit it over these last four weeks. 

I have so much love for the way Nomoto and Kasuga develop their relationship in conjunction with their relationships with the other women in their lives. Nagumo, Sayama, and Yako are integral to the success of Nomoto and Kasuga’s relationship, and they're also important relationships for the happiness of Nomoto and Kasuga in their own right. The found family vibes are immaculate. 

The conflict between Kasuga and Nomoto this season was so perfectly them; the way they struggled with the transition from friends to lovers and being two people who are kind and giving in a relationship together and how that requires honesty and trust were both familiar conflicts that hit me hard in the feels. 

Kasuga's conflict with her family also hit me really hard. I once did the wrong thing and showed up to support my family in caring for someone who abused me, and it was a horrible experience that was ruinous to my mental health and took years to get over (and in the end they had to find a different solution anyway, which they could have done in the first place). Watching Kasuga refuse to make a similar decision, standing strong in the face of the social pressures of her parents and her aunt was so healing for me. And then to have her decision affirmed by someone of her parent's age? I sobbed in those scenes. 

I also loved the way this season handled Nagumo’s anxiety issues and how she was given space to decide to get professional help on her own time and terms. The way her parents tried to help was also very familiar to me and realistic, and it was just a little heartbreaking how they tried and didn't understand how their attempts at helping added pressure in a way that wasn't helpful. 

The way this show covers this important beats in a person's life through these small, everyday moments, and in such a gentle way, is what I love so much about it. The show itself makes a safe space so that these subjects can come up and not feel overwhelming. 

And it's also really important to me that all of the characters get to have these moments. Sakae not only reflects on her insensitivity and the unfairness of Japan not having marriage equality, but she also reflects on the pressures on her to marry and whether she actually wants that for herself. Fujita not only helps Kasuga gain proxy acceptance for her choices but gets the same back for herself around her decision to divorce. All of these women live in ways that invoke social stigma, and the way this show gives explicit permission to these women to live their best lives is both cathartic and critical.

I can't end this disjointed ramble without talking about the character I most identified with this season, Yako. Yako is an older, self-actualized asexual lesbian who makes friends with Nomoto on the Internet, recommends lesbian films to her, and mostly listens and affirms as Nomoto goes through her own process of discovering herself. I ran a GSA and have been on the Internet a long time, I've been in Yako’s position a lot (though I can only aspire to be as kind and wise). She is so patient and so genuinely happy for Nomoto when she and Kasuga get together, and she seems so quietly thrilled to have more wonderful people in her life willing to indulge her random party ideas. Her sharing a connection to a LGBTQ+-friendly real estate agency while being angry on their behalf that she even has to was perfection. 

It's so important that these characters say the things they say aloud. I want to inscribe every sentence of this show into everyone's brains. This show is perfect, and lovely, and a warm bath, and a hug, and a cup of your favourite warm beverage perfectly fixed to your liking all in one. If you haven't done yourself the favour of watching yet, I highly recommend that you do so immediately. 

[not an ID: Real footage of the entire audience's satisfaction and catharsis after watching TsukuTabe S2. Actual ID in alt text].

[mercuriouss]

EA Spoilers

This is not coherent at all and nobody will see this but I get anxious after a lore heavy video :,) I need to get my energy out and keeping them in drafts ain’t helpin

The ‘it was all a dream’ trope coming in clutch!! A pleasant surprise, I’m very happy about this. It begs many questions though about the average empowered persons knowledge on the Meridian and the Sovereigns… (Rewriting this because I’m an idiot and forgot it’s literally mentioned) The labyrinth played on the fear/theories about the Sovereigns/Deltas/Solitaires that they’ve seen in the news. What are the stories though? Where has the information come from if Demons are so tight-lipped about it.

Also, the trauma they went through to set off their powers being sexual trauma is interesting… I’m gonna benefit of the doubt assume they talked about that specifically with Marc otherwise that’s really creepy. Them kicking him out and bringing in a fake James is funny though. The fact their mind went down the ‘saving the world’ route is so :(( They just wanna be useful :(( I imagine that chat with dream!James before real!James pulls them back was cathartic for them, they deserve to hear that.

I have never loved the Asset more. I better not be seeing any Asset slander🫵 They’re just a guy your honour!! A (probably) mentally ill and (definitely) traumatised guy!! A latent born into an empowered family, how awful must that feel?? The powerlessness, how out of place they are in their own community, the detailed knowledge of what they’re missing out on. Living their entire life expecting to have this thing, their entire life is this thing, waiting and waiting and never getting it. Then wilfully traumatising themself mere weeks, maybe even days, after experiencing a traumatising vamp attack?? You need therapy bbg (gn). I like that they have a sister I think that’s really cute, especially the fact it was the memory with her before the attack that made the record play No More Tears :(( “Lesley Gore was wild”, I love the crumbs of this relationship, walking through a park at night listening to Lesley Gore. I am deeply attached to these fictional siblings that we see interact once<3 “And a sister that’s going to be very happy to see you again.” AHHHHH CUTE.

AAAND THEY’RE A DREAMWALKER!! I love Dreamwalkers so much. Considering Marc was surprised by Asset taking over the labyrinth I’ll take it their immediate family aren’t Dreamwalkers? I mean they could be but surely their family’s magical history was brought up so he would’ve considered the possibility of them taking over. Then again he’s a weirdo so who knows.

Love that they’re McKinley based!! I’ve been wanting non-Dahlia stories, I love how connected everything is in a smaller city like that but I like extra world building.

Anton my beloved? An Investigator?? A wolf shifter??? AND he saved Asset&Sister from QUINN? Fooliverse!Anton… The way he’s putting pressure on their wounds so they don’t bleed out because he’s not good at healing magic that is so mortifying. Him being this comforting, warm presence in the Asset’s dream because of what they did for him :(( and because they’re latent they didn’t know what empowered race he was so the labyrinth made him unempowered :((

QUINN WAS IN MCKINLEY? nvm no he wasn’t “Gore, did you say?” GO AWAY. What a pos, he’s such a creep... ‘blood bag’ is giving me Adam flashbacks. His attack amplifying Asset’s feelings of powerlessness and desperation - they could never make me stop hating you Quinn Fox <33 It does help put the timeline together though, May 2023! He is captured the day after he attacks Asset&Sister.

Marcus being a shady Dreamwalker doing creepy labyrinth-memory suppressant-latent manifestation work in his BASEMENT is so funny, what a weirdo lmao I love that. Taking advantage of desperate, vulnerable people who don’t have the ability to protect themselves… that’s sooo shady lmao.

James my EXTRA beloved, the way he’s just a guy I love him. He’s humanborn!! A humanborn telepath, that’s gotta be hard. His spouse is confirmed unempowered and their relationship isn’t actually on the fritz!! Hurray!! Thinking of Fooliverse!James… I feel like he’ll need a high after that mess lol. Thank you for helping the Asset, they need it🫡

The ending is a little unsettling in that we now know NOTHING about the state of the Meridian, what the Department is doing with Starlight’s information or the Chorus with Avior’s, what the Sovereigns are up to, what Blake and D’Deridahn are up to, what Hush is up to… I need to know where Hush fits on the timeline, sometime in 2022?

Overall, very fun, did enjoy! Mr. Redacted your brain is too big. This scratched many itches, Project Meridian ily <333 I doubt we’ll see any more of the Asset&Marc but Anton&James are still a possibility sooo that’s fun. Even if we don’t I’m veeery happy with what we have :) I will now spend the next weeks fleshing out Dreamwalker!Asset’s story<3 I love listeners.

[i-heart-hxh]

Reason for Hope: A Gon and Killua Meta

I’m surprised by how frequently I see people saying that they think Gon and Killua’s story arcs are over for good; that we likely won’t see them again in the series, or if we do it’ll only be brief and they won’t reunite.

After spending years obsessively analyzing Hunter x Hunter, I disagree with this viewpoint, and I wanted to lay out some reasons as to why I anticipate an eventual reunion and reconciliation between Gon and Killua. This will be long, but bear with me!

The Separation

So, after thousands of pages of development between Gon and Killua, many things unfinished and unresolved between the two, at a point where the audience is expecting a big, maybe tearful reconciliation between Gon and Killua, instead we get…a mere 5 pages devoted to their separation. Many of the words on these five pages aren’t even dialogue between them, but rather setting details about the World Tree.

What we get is complicated; they seem on good terms, but it’s also somewhat fraught–they must have had a conversation before this, when they initially reunited, but Togashi opts to skip that entirely and only show us the aftermath, what’s happening right as they’re about to go their separate ways. 

Killua teases Gon about that painful line where Gon told Killua it wasn’t his business, and Gon quickly apologizes, but this is a very light conversation where Killua is clearly prodding Gon to make him feel bad. In the original Japanese version, Killua then says that Gon “already (もう/mou)” apologized, which implies they did talk enough for Gon to apologize in another conversation, but clearly this prior conversation also wasn’t in-depth enough for Killua to explain how Gon was healed and by whom. I also assume in this conversation that they discussed parting ways, as their parting doesn’t seem to be a shock or surprise to either of them.

Togashi is known for his anti-climaxes to arcs–often he’ll build an audience expectation up, only for things to go a completely different way than what it initially seemed he was building towards. It’s one of the things that makes his writing brilliant. It applies to this scene, in a way, in that he doesn’t give us the big, cathartic, emotional conversation we’re expecting at this point, and much is left unsaid between the two boys. However, I don’t think Togashi’s tendency for anti-climax means that this is it, the end, all we get is this parting with ambiguity and Gon and Killua’s arcs are over. There are a bunch of questions left unanswered here, even though they’re not stated outright. The central one is: Why, exactly, are they parting ways?

There are a bunch of reasons one can come up with, both emotional and practical: Killua may need a break from Gon after all of that (because he feels unwanted/rejected by Gon or he just needs to heal, or he may feel it’s unfair to Alluka/Nanika to split attention); he may feel he can’t be with Gon and also fully focus on protecting Alluka/Nanika; he may be concerned about Illumi pursuing them and the danger this may pose to Gon; he may simply feel he has no excuse to be with Gon any more now that Gon is about to fulfill his mission and Killua found something he wants and needs to do (going back to the promise they made under the stars previously); he may feel he’s already failed at protecting Gon (particularly after what Bisky said in Chimera Ant Arc) and what right does he still have to be with him? It’s possible Gon has reasons for them to part too–we’re not given reasons so we have no choice but to infer. It likely could be a combination of these reasons, too.

It’s hard to feel closure with a parting that we don’t even entirely know the reason for, and I do think eventually Togashi intends to give us more answers. He even indirectly makes us a promise, through Alluka.

I come back to this line over and over again, and I truly think this is Togashi reassuring the audience that this isn’t forever. I think that’s 100% what this line is here for.

There’s a lot of ambiguity in these few pages, between Killua teasing Gon in a way that feels pointed at times (the instance I discussed above, as well as the scene after Alluka says she’ll let Killua go, where Killua tells Gon he’s second place to Alluka), to the specific word (仲間/nakama, essentially teammate or comrade) Gon quoted from Kite being tied to Killua’s “friend vs teammate” concerns, and where we leave off is with a lot of tension and uncertainty even if overall they leave off on good terms.

It is made clear several times that neither of them fully want this parting to happen: Gon’s “I’d better go… Any longer and I’ll…” (Not be able to let you go, it implies.) Gon looks crushed. Killua agrees, also with a sad/resigned expression. Gon also says, “Wish you could go [meet Ging].” Both of their expressions change to sadness as soon as they turn away from each other. Neither wants to show the other how much this hurts. We get the sense that there’s a lot more they want and need to say to each other, things they’re saving for another time, once they’ve had some time apart to heal and grow on their own.

These are two of Togashi’s main characters, and the two he has spent the most time developing and portraying throughout the story. This parting is confusing, bittersweet, ambiguous, and unresolved. It’s dense and thought-provoking even in its brevity. It also doesn’t feel like a permanent endpoint.

Apologies

Ging tells Gon, “There are rules when you apologize to friends. You promise what you’ll do next time. And then you keep that promise!!”

Gon is talking about Kite when Ging says this, but even within the same conversation, Ging tries to tell Gon that what happened to Kite is not his fault. When Gon apologizes to Kite, Kite also asks “Apologize for what?” 

I don’t think most of the audience blames Gon for what happened to Kite. The narrative makes it clear that Gon, Killua, and Kite were all simply outclassed by Pitou’s strength, they had been ambushed suddenly, and Gon and Killua fleeing was the only way they could survive. Gon didn’t even flee willingly, Killua made that decision for him.

So, why include this whole lesson on how to apologize to a friend, when neither the audience, nor Ging, nor Kite think Gon needs to apologize to Kite?

Isn’t there someone else Gon needs to apologize to–someone Gon did in fact hurt deeply with his actions?

As stated above, Gon likely did apologize to Killua, especially because he already brought up that he needed to in the conversation he had with Leorio in the car. Chances are, he did that as soon as they were reunited. But…also as stated above, there’s likely a deeper apology that Gon needs to give Killua; one where he fully understands what happened, and one where he can promise not to hurt Killua like that again.

I believe Togashi included this whole dialogue and conversation with Gon apologizing to Killua in mind, not Kite. We never saw this apology, and I believe it’s something that will happen when they see each other again.

Unfinished Plot Threads

While Gon and Killua’s original goals have been achieved, there are still a number of plot threads dangling for both characters. If the parting between them was supposed to be the end of the road for these characters, why bother building up so much unfinished business for both of them? Here are just some of the things in the story related to Gon and Killua that have not yet been addressed:

Gon meeting Gyro, which Togashi explicitly says is supposed to happen.

Gon fighting Hisoka again (assuming Hisoka survives the Black Whale).

What will happen with Gon’s nen? Will he remain nen-less forever or be able to restore it?

What will Gon do with his life now that he’s no longer hunting Ging? Hopefully not do homework on Whale Island forever!

Don Freecss and how he may or may not relate to Gon’s story.

Nanika came from the Dark Continent, something only brought up after Gon and Killua part. This gives Killua a direct link to the Dark Continent arc. How did Alluka come to be possessed by Nanika, an Ai creature from the Dark Continent? Will Alluka have this incredible power via Nanika forever (I suspect not)?

Illumi vowing to hunt Alluka/Nanika down, and also generally will Killua manage to cut ties with his family altogether, to have the kind of future he wants?

Kalluto, now with Illumi and the Phantom Troupe on the Black Whale, has mentioned wanting to bring his brother home, presumably/most likely Killua.

Gon’s mother or origin remains a mystery. While Gon himself didn’t want to know, that doesn’t mean the audience is satisfied by the non-answer.

While none of these guarantee a reunion between Gon and Killua, they certainly signal that Togashi is not done with these characters.

Killua’s Birthday

When Togashi gives his characters birthdays, he does it thoughtfully–imbuing them with both numerical and other symbolic meanings. Killua’s birthday is Tanabata, a Japanese holiday wherein two separated lovers are reunited every year. There’s an excellent piece of meta here that explores a lot of the parallels between Tanabata and Killua’s story and character trajectory, as there’s more to this than I can easily explore in this meta. Note how many similarities exist between the legend of Tanabata and Gon and Killua, particularly in the Zoldyck Family arc.

Gon and Killua have been separated once and brought back together again. With the legend of Tanabata, there are many meetings between the separated lovers, so the motif tends to lean towards them separating and then reuniting again, as they already did once in the Zoldyck Family arc. This leads me to believe that their parting is not forever.

Togashi Exhibition Promotion Video

As a lead-up to the Togashi Exhibition, a video showcasing Gon and Killua was released with newly recorded lines by their voice actresses from the 2011 anime, Megumi Han and Mariya Ise. The vast majority of the lines in this video are actually re-recorded major lines from the series summarizing the relationship between the two. But there are a few brand new lines. One of these is, essentially, “We’re so far away from each other right now, but I believe we’ll meet again someday!”

This video is a promotion for an exhibition devoted to his works, so Togashi himself must have approved this video. Why would this be one of the only brand new lines in the whole video if he has no intentions of reuniting them within the series? It would have been a simple matter not to mention any sort of reunion between them, but the fact that it was one of only a handful of truly new lines feels important and noteworthy.

Off-Screen

Just a small point, but one worth considering. At the end of the Yorknew City arc, Leorio and Kurapika go their separate ways as they fade out of the focus of the story for a while, only to be put in the same stage together once it’s their turn to be a point of focus again. (Never mind that they haven’t gotten much time together in this arc yet, but I’m sure they’re in the same place for a reason.)

One of the reasons Togashi may have chosen to separate Gon and Killua at the end of the Election Arc is that they, too, are out of focus for a while. This makes sense if you think about it–Togashi spends all this time developing the relationships between these two pairs of characters, having them remain together while the focus is not on them means the audience would miss out on developments and interactions between them. It’s easier to separate them and then reunite them again when it’s time for them to have the spotlight again.

The Little Detours

This is more abstract than the other points, but I think it’s just as important.

One of the most prominent themes of Hunter x Hunter is summed up in Ging’s words, “You should enjoy the little detours to the fullest. Because that's where you'll find the things more important than what you want.” This is what Gon learns when reaching his goal–that the most important things in life are not the achievements you make nor the way your journey ends, but the people you meet along the way, the enjoyment of the journey itself, all the places it takes you, continuing to seek more throughout life.

Gon meets Ging at the end of the Election Arc, his original goal, but is this truly the heart of Gon’s story? Killua finds something to do, as he told Gon he wanted to do, but is this truly the heart of Killua’s story? The heart of their stories is finding each other, the ways they changed and helped each other, the joy and solace and pain they found in each other. That’s ultimately what their stories are about–not simply achieving their goals. To say that their goals are achieved and their story is done now misses what Togashi is trying to say.

Hunter x Hunter is filled with characters whose life trajectories were changed by an encounter with one important person. Many of these characters also had their life trajectories changed by losing those people. Togashi can be a harsh storyteller at times, but I don’t believe he’s crafting a story in which his two main characters find each other and change each other so deeply, tragic circumstances and painful misunderstandings happen between them, much remains unsaid, and then they simply part, never be seen again in the story.

In my viewpoint, the only major obstacle standing in the way of an eventual reunion between Gon and Killua is Togashi’s health and how that affects his ability to tell what he has planned of the series. He has stated a commitment to finishing the series to the best of his ability, so it’s just a matter of what his body’s limitations will allow him to do.

At the very least, for all of the above reasons and more, I do think Togashi fully intends to give us a reunion between Gon and Killua in the future. I hope that in time, we will get to see him share the rest of what he has planned for these two characters.

[brandwhorestarscream]

I think the con command would be at a high end brothel. Like they’re the ones you have to book 6 months advance because they’re so in demand

Ooooh you're so big brain

Each of them are massively popular due to their very specific and highly coveted skills. Since this is a high end brothel with high class courtesans, their work isn't specifically sex, but entertainment

Megatron's heavily pursued for his flowery poetry, bleeding spark, and soft, gentle voice. Mecha spend small fortunes just to spend an hour with him, being tenderly held while he recites the most beautiful pieces penned just for them. He's very popular with civilian frames that want to be held and to be able to feel safe and cared for, as well as with warframes that are drawn to his striking balance of rugged beauty and carefully cultured artistry.

Starscream's greatest draw is his unrivaled processor and sharp tongue. He's famously unbeatable at strategy games, frighteningly smart with a poisonous glossa, just as soon to purr at you and melts your struts as he is to screech and crow in mocking victory when he defeats you in a game of chess. Despite or perhaps because of how profitable he is, he's managed to keep his seals. All he asks before someone take him to bed is to defeat him in a game of wit, but sadly, no one has delivered yet. Starscream is terribly bored at the House; though he loves the endless attention, he wishes someone more stimulating would come to see him.

And Soundwave's greatest draw is his telepathy--though a carefully kept secret, it makes him hyper empathetic and always acutely aware of exactly what his customers need. He always knows exactly what they want to do, want to see, what to hear. He's extremely popular for his ability to play music and to sing: a single session with Soundwave is said to be more cathartic, comforting, and healing than 4 months of therapy

[iamgodsoopsie]

Astarion Headcanons (that you probably won't like) Pt. 1:

Part 2 link

BG3 does an excellent job at depicting SA trauma and the beginning of the healing process/journey. Many of the headcanons I've seen floating around (intentionally or unintentionally) gloss over the uglier side of healing from (prolonged) trauma. I'm not judging anyone for magically healing him, he's fictional after all, but I'd like to make some more ...realistic... headcanons.

Disclaimer: Everyone's healing process looks different, but they tend share commonalities. These headcanons are based on my own experiences. Not everyone who is healing from their trauma will experience what I have or have experienced it like I have.

[Please don't message me with explicit details about your trauma. I am at the point in my healing journey where I can share my experiences, and commiserate with other's similar experiences, but I am unable to support others in a more personal manner at this time. I wish you the best of luck in your healing process/ journey.]

Spoiler warning

Mental illness, SA, & DV Trigger Warnings

These headcanons are based on an Astarion who is still a spawn and romantically involved with a Tav who honestly loves him and isn't abusive or manipulative. Also Cazador is dead and Astarion got to stab him. They also assume that he himself does not turn into Cazador 2.0 or Wish.com Cazador.

He needs a LOT of love and patience. Which, frankly, many people don't have.

He's messy af. If "Damn bitch, you live like this?" was a person it'd be him. C-PTSD is a hell of a drug. I think he wants to be more organized and clean than he is, it's just going to be a looong process for his inside appearance to match his outside appearance. (His appearance may stay mostly the same or drastically change).

---Don't believe me? Just look at the outside of his tent: it's mostly organized and sophisticated, but the inside is messy and he sleeps on a plank of wood with a threadbare stained blanket.

He'll struggle with control issues rooted in his anxiety until he finds a way to channel that energy in to something productive and/or healthy.

---He'll veer between controlling micromanager (aggressive) and door mat (people pleasing/ passive) until he finds his (assertive) middle ground.

Anger issues ahoy! He went through "200 years of shit. PURE SHIT!" and had to dissociate/repress his feelings to 'survive'.

---Stabbing Cazador was cathartic, but it only released the surface level of his repressed rage.

-----An interesting line from the game that I haven't seen enough people talk about: When you tell Astarion to keep his cool when Cazador is goading him, Cazador scoffs and sarcastically asks Tav if they've witnessed his "fits of rage". (Of course a "fit of rage" to Cazador is probably Astaion having a slight frown when Cazador wants him to smile and be a pretty toy to show off.)

He will try to push you away and 'test' you to see if you stay consistent in respecting him and his boundaries. He needs to make sure you don't turn into a Cazador when you two are in an argument. He needs to be sure that his "No" is respected when in a steamy moment after a dry spell.

---This probably won't be as intense as it otherwise would've been because of what you two went through together, but he'll still do it.

-----He probably doesn't realize what he's doing, and when he does he'll shame spiral.

I hope you are prepared to patiently give lots of reassurance and affirmation about the same things over and over again.

---It'll sometimes seem as though he is seeking permission, but if you ever act as though you are giving him permission instead of affirmation/ reassurance he will become very defensive.

He's indecisive but unwilling to listen to your input.

---He went from 200 years of having no control or ability to make his own decisions to suddenly being free, he's going to feel overwhelmed.

-----He'll eventually realize that you have his best interest at heart and that you are not telling him what to do, you're offering suggestions to help him make an informed decision.

There's so much more but I'm tired. He'll eventually heal and live a happy and healthy life, but it'll be a bumpy road to get there.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Careless Words

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x nameless female character (third person perspective) Warnings: Angst. Toxic/abusive relationship dynamics. Mentions of death. Allusions to smut. Word count: tbc

Summary: She has always given her best to Aemond, but they both know he can't say the same. Based on this request. Author's note: I wanted to explore the darker side of Aemond's personality and how this might manifest itself in a relationship where neither party is particularly healthy in terms of their mindset. This was a cathartic piece for me to write. Lately I've been working through some resurfaced feelings linked to a past relationship that was based entirely around trauma bonding. It may be a triggering read for some, so please approach with caution (and try to remember the story itself is a work of fiction).

Full story coming soon. Snippet below the cut.

She knows she is fighting a losing battle before she even opens her mouth to speak, yet she cannot help herself. She is a moth and Aemond is her flame, ever bright and eternal, the very center around which her entire world revolves. Nothing has ever seemed so final though, what pieces will there be to pick up and place back together once he is someone else’s husband?

Standing before him, she juts out her chin defiantly, willing herself not to cry in spite of the lump in her throat and the insistent stinging around the rims of her eyes. “You’re really going to go through with this?”

He sets his jaw, sighing, a visible dismissal of her feelings that makes her ache and wish she had the courage to simply walk away from him. “Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.”

“What will become of me, of us?” She asks, her voice raising an octave, threatening to crack.

“That is inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. My brother’s succession takes precedence over everything. Marrying one of Lord Baratheon’s daughters helps strengthen his claim to the throne. Listening to your heedless fretting does not.”

She feels heat rise to her cheeks, swallowing back her anguish, attempting to sound fiercer than she feels. “Perhaps I shall decide to marry too then.”

Aemond’s scoff is so subtle it’s almost imperceptible. “Who would marry you? Your virtue is mine, always has been. You’re fortunate I still desire you.”

His tone of voice is so practical, only the slightest hint of irritation giving it an edge. He may as well be addressing a chambermaid who has not made his bed to his liking. She longs to grab him, shake him, beg him to give her any sort of indication that this is hurting him as much as it’s hurting her, because to think that he’d let her go so easily, after all these years, is more than she can stand.

Instead she says nothing, simply watches as he turns to leave, counting down the moments until he returns to her, his words sweet once more and eager to heal the rift between them, just like he always does. She craves the storm and the calm in equal measure, but they are always on Aemond’s terms, never hers.