#wtf was that typo

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; fem!reader

knight!suguru is more than glad to drop to his knees for his beloved princess.

his rough hands bunch up the skirt of your dress with haste, his pruple eyes blown wide with lust as you try to grab onto his shoulders for support. your knees feel weak, your body shaking with a mixture of excitement and pure adrenaline – this is improper, you shouldn't be doing this.

but oh, how good does it feel.

how good the knight's fingers feel as they dance on your skin, the tips of them ghosting over the soft material of your soaking undergarments. with his face hidden under your skirt, you can only imagine the hungry look he's wearing as they prepare to eat their heart out after a long, tiring day.

you rest against a bookshelf in the dark library, letting the wooden planks press into your upper back, into your soft skin. candlelight flickers across your flustered face, it being the only audience you could ever possibly allow.

what you're doing is risky, it's dangerous – but neither of you can fight the need any longer.

a quiet gasp echoes through the empty library when suguru presses a gentle kiss your core, his fingers tugging on your underwear. he can feel your legs tremble, he can feel the goosebumps on your skin; just like you imagine his expression, suguru does the same – how dark and low your eyes would be, how swollen your pretty lips. he'll get to see it all later, the masterpiece that is your blissed out face after he're done devouring you.

as his tongue lays flat against your needy cunt, the room gets flooded with hushed mewls; taking a hand from suguru's shoulder, you slot it in front of your mouth but the palm does very little to contain the sounds of pleasure that suffocate you. alongside with those, the noises that emit from under your skirt - your body feels as if its on fire.

suguru's hands knead your thighs – the very same hands that have killed, that have taken lives, are now caressing your skin with the utmost care and tenderness the knight could ever possibly muster up. this is his job afterall – to take care and to proctect, in every way imaginable; whether it's him on his knees as they get a taste of the woman they have swore to protect, or it's him dying at the end of a blade for the woman they love – it's the suguru's desire to serve.

he sucks on your clit, he tongues at your folds, drowning in your scent as he pushes you closer to your high with his skilled mouth. your nails dig into his shoulder, with most of your weight now leant against him as your body threatens to go limp, your brain turning into a mush. cries of suguru's name fall from your lips like a waterfall, with the letters coated with sickly sweet honey that reel him deeper and deeper into her core.

the obscene sounds grow louder by the second with suguru now lapping at your cunt like a starved dog, his good manners long forgotten in his clouded mind. there's a whine on the tip of your tongue, a shy and embarrassed one, but suguru doesn't falter even a bit – instead, he moves to raise your thigh up onto his shoulder, the new angle making your eyes roll back into your head with a loud gasp.

with the other hand, suguru guides you to grind against his face, his nose catching your clit with every roll of your hips and all it takes for you to finally let go, is to hear your beloved knight moan into your sopping cunt.

the back of your head meets the wall behind you with a soft thud and your eyes screw themselves shut as your whole body tenses up; you try to close your legs by pressing your thigh into the suguru's face but it's of no use because he simply digs his fingers deeper into your plush flesh and forces them apart again, so he can keep burying his tongue inside you. suguru can't let any of it go to waste – not the moment, not the saccharine slick that fills his mouth.

you clutch onto your knight as he let you ride out the high, your mumbles of 'thank you's' not going unheard in his keen ears.

before he pull away, suguru places one last kiss to your clit, gentlly as ever; his calloused hands glide over your calves and thighs when he places your leg down onto the wooden floor. with his finger hooked under the material of your underwear, he tugs them down instead of up and taps on your foot for you to raise it.

finally poking his head out from under the skirt, both of you need a moment to collect yourselves; completely disheveled, sweaty and fucked out, panting and heaving – your eyes are still heavy with a flicker of something tender inside them.

you watch the knight pocket the ruined undergarments with a kind of sly grin.

for later.

suguru stays there down on his knees, staring up at you like you're the one that hung the stars in the sky. in his head, you did.

when you try to shove his face to escape the wave of embarrassment that's creeping up your throat but when your fingers meet the slick that's covering the entirety of suguru's lower half of his face, you can't help but cringe at yourself.

and suguru falls for you more. deeper, harder.

"can— can i kiss you?"

your words are but a mere whisper, afraid to see the light, but suguru welcomes them with open arms nonetheless. the corners of his lips tug upward, his hands itching to hold her.

"of course, sweetheart."

you hold each other's gaze as he stands, the rhythm of your chests rising and falling matching in pace.

delicate fingers play with the material of suguru's shirt, a certain nervousness flowing through you despite the fact that you've done this many times before. but you always get like this – a bit shy, a bit timid, wishing to nuzzle your face into the his chest to hide from his fond eyes, the attention suddenly too much. it's the effect he has on you. but you still wants the kiss, you still want the love.

so you push through.

suguru's hand raises to his mouth, his eyebrow quirks up when he sees your eyes grow wider. "don't you want me to wipe it off?"

burns, it burns.

your skin burns.

"no..."

and it burns even stronger, even brighter, at the sight of his wolfish grin, shis sharp canines glinting at you inthe soft candlelight.

"no?"

a tease.

a shake of your head.

a searing kiss. a touch of love.

[thesmollestsnek]

Death echoes

So a while ago, i found this dp x dc post that had a really interesting lore headcanon for Danny’s ghostly wail. Idk if I’ll be able to find it again, I’ll link it here if I do, but essentially it posited that every ghost has something called a “death echo”, which is an ability unique to them based heavily on their deaths. These echoes are the most powerful move in a ghost’s moveset, but they’re also extremely volatile and draining, typically damaging the ghost in some way when used, with Danny’s being his Wail because he died screaming. The original post then went on to some really cool halfa!Jason ideas based on these death echoes, but for this lil snippet with an extremely long intro I’d like to focus on Danny a bit more.

Edit: Apparently I may have extrapolated a lot of the actual lore behind these death echos myself? The inspiration post was a lot longer in my memories. Or I might've mushed multiple posts into one mental box and then forgot lol. So a lot of the actual detail from this point on is seemingly mostly original material? I think? Idk man, sometimes my brain spits out information without giving me any clues as to where it got that information. Anyway, this post got kinda long and since I'm... decently sure this is where I shifted from summarizing @ailithnight's post to writing all my own thoughts I figured here would be a good place to throw the cut lol.

So! with all of the context-for-the-context out of the way, let’s move on to the actual context for what I’m writing cause I can’t be bothered with writing an intro XD

Essentially, this is an au where Danny is an established member of the Justice League, or maybe one of the teen hero teams? I’m a slut for eternal teenager Danny, but maybe he’s enough of a powerhouse to be on the main team despite him both looking and acting like the dumbass fourteen year old he died as. Either way, he’s on a League/League-sanctioned mission and things go bad. Like, everyone-almost-dies bad. And so as a final desperation attack, Danny uses his Wail, a power he’s never told anyone on the league he even has. And it works, and they make it out, but after the fact everyone has. Questions. And because in this au death echoes are deeply personal, Danny dodges those questions, but the league coughbatmancough isn’t satisfied with that. So they push for answers. Answers Danny’s not willing to give, because. In my mind death echoes aren’t just based on how a person died, but also their experience of that death. What their last thoughts were. When Danny died the only thing that he could process beyond just an all-encompassing painpainpainpainpain was the sound of someone screaming. His screaming. And so his death echo is the sound of a fourteen year old child screaming in deathly pain and terror weaponized, which definitely gave the league Even More Questions than they would’ve had already. Which finally brings us to the actual snippet, which is a conversation between John Constantine, who was brought in for his experience with the supernatural once it became clear Danny wasn’t going to talk, and Danny himself. 

~~~~~~~

“So, kid. Batsy tells me you’ve been hiding some of your abilities, wanna tell me what's up with that? Call it an occultist's intuition, but somethin’ tells me you’re not just being stubborn for the hell of it.”

“It’s... complicated. And not anyone’s business, either!”

“Kid...”

“Why does it even matter?! It’s not something I want to or am even able to do on a regular basis! I saved the mission, can’t they just accept that and move on???”

Sighing, Constantine reached up to start massaging his brow. “Kid, you and I both know that ain’t gonna be enough. Now I know that some things are better left alone, but the rest of these idiots? They can’t accept that, Batsy especially. That man’s never left bloody well enough alone in his life”

He looked up just in time to see the otherworldly teen shrink into himself, looking every bit the child he was. “I know but... why? Why do they need to keep asking questions? And why do they only ask the ones that hurt to answer?”

A sharp glance. “The fuck kinda questions are they asking? Batman was speaking in more grunt than word, so I didn’t really catch all the details of what this power you’re supposedly hiding even is.”

Phantom shrinks even more into himself at that, and responds in a voice so small it’s more sigh than speech. “I... I can scream. And it breaks things and pushes people back. But it, it sounds. Bad. And it brings up bad memories and I don’t like to do it or listentoitoreventhinkaboutitandtheywon’tletmeforgetand-”

“Breathe kid. I know you don’t need to but just take a deep breath with me. Don’t you go getting lost in your own head on me now., Constantine reassured the kid automatically, the sheer hopelessness prompting action long before the words themselves could be understood. Then the rest of him caught up, and he had to pause. Looked up at the kid, saw just how distressed he was. A picture was starting to form in the back of his head, and Constantine didn’t like what he saw one bit. A last-resort power that the normally open Phantom was strangely reticent about. A scream so horrible sounding the rest of the league would not to stop asking questions about it. Terrible memories to match said scream. And one truly miserable child who couldn’t bear to even think about any of it. 

“Phantom... is that your Echo? Screaming?”

A miserable nod is his only response, the tears that had been welling up in the kid’s eyes finally starting to fall. Cursing softly to himself, Constantine stood to leave, bracing himself for the Bat’s inevitable questioning. “Well then you just take all the time you need love, and leave the rest to me. I’ll make sure the rest of those idiots know not to ask you about this ever again.”  And with that Constantine turned and strode towards the door, leaving the quietly sobbing child to collect himself in privacy.

~~~~~

I had a whole-ass lore dump conversation between Constantine and Batman planned here, explaining how death echoes are deeply personal, and asking about one is a taboo on par with, potentially even worse than, asking a ghost about their death outright. Because they are formed from an amalgamation of how a ghost died, their last thoughts, and their final emotions, in some ways asking a ghost about their Echo is like asking them to describe their death in painstaking detail. But uhhh... inspiration bug left. So yea. Side note, I’d like to apologize if my depiction of Constantine’s accent was Bad, I’m but a lowly USAmerican whose only exposure to British accents is through tv ^-^’

[kiisuuumii]

Kaveh Akbar, from "Tassiopeia," in Calling a Wolf a Wolf

[riaki]

hii! yk that trend on tiktok where the girl asks her man to name a woman and gets suspicious when he says a name beside hers? i would like to request that with gojo please! thanksss

name a woman | satoru gojo x f!reader thanks for ur req! here u go <3 slightly different from what u asked but i hope it works | cw fem reader + petnames, slightly suggestive, he's kinda a scumbag lol

it's a lazy saturday afternoon when you get betrayed by your boyfriend.

you're sitting at the round table on the patio of satoru's place; you always forget just how rich his parents are whenever you're around him. if not for that stupidly expensive cologne he wears and that one time you happened to see the price tag on the new pair of sunglasses he bought himself, you would've been blissfully unaware. after all, for a rich kid, he's pretty grounded. at least, when he isn't tooting his own horn.

but being here on the gojo estate, it hits you in the face like a ton of bricks; forces you to accept the fact that your boyfriend is loaded.

the breeze is gentle as it runs through your hair, but satoru's absentminded touch as he drums his fingers along your arm is more than you could ever ask for. it's the little things like this; habits of his that make you love him all the more. the way he'll throw his arms around your neck and latch onto to give you a big hug from behind, or carry you around like you're a little kid when you're worn out and you can't feel your feet from a day's worth of walking.

there's seven empty juice boxes littered across the table and a half-empty one in your hand; the paper straw is already folding in on itself, which makes it much harder to get any of the remnants at the bottom of the carton. at least the drink is nice and sweet; refreshing lime on a sunny day.

"why did they stop giving these things plastic straws? it's so soggy now," you complained, shifting in your seat as you shook the juice box. it did not relent, or give up any of its juice. you make a face, and you could swear it makes one back.

satoru glances up at you, tearing his attention away from his phone as a small grin appears on his lips. "don't you know? it's good for the environment. obviously, you're not in tune with nature like i am." he snickers, adjusting his shades on the bridge of his nose before turning his attention back to the screen between his fingers, withdrawing the hand that was on your arm to form a cushion for his chin on the crook of his elbow.

"oh, [name], [name]! you're hurting us! woe be upon thy and thou foul plastic tomfoolery." your dignified lover puts his phone down, straightening up to wave his arms about as if he's one of those inflatables you see in front of car dealerships. you think he's trying to be a tree, but you're not entirely sure. "hear that? the plants are calling you," he grins, pausing his arm waves to nudge you in the shoulder.

"stop doing that, satoru. you look stupid. the maids will think you've lost it," you chuckled, kicking his leg in jest as you leaned back in your seat and took another sip from the juice box.

"you're one to talk." he scoffs, and you glare at him, giving him a pointed look. he just giggles, sticking his tongue out before making a grab at your juice box. you swipe it out of his reach before he can wiggle his fingers any closer, and the way his expression falls an apple from a tree makes a laugh bubble from your throat. unlike the apple, it's not gravity that's pulled him down; you never indulge him, because you like making him chase. he enjoys it— he thinks it's good that you're playful. but it's annoying when he's thirsty and it's not his fault those juice boxes are so damn small.

"toru, i have a question for you. answer well and the rest of this is yours," you said, shifting in your seat to cross your legs and face him, propping the juice box on your knee. there's not much inside, but you know he'll scavenge for every last drop, like he's some raccoon. it's cute, you think.

he perks up immediately, turning his phone off and mirroring your position in his own seat; his limbs are slightly too long and too lanky to fit proportionately in the seat, but he doesn't seem to mind when his knee bumps against yours.

"yes? what is it, my sweetpea?" he grins, enjoying the sour expression on your face. it seems the lime juice has worked its way into your system.

you scowl. "sweetpea? what kind of nickname is that?" it's cute, though, so you don't say anything more. you stare at him for a moment, taking in his features; the wide smirk on his lips, the way his hair gently ruffles around his face like passing clouds.

you sigh; resigned, as you roll your eyes.

"name a woman."

"...what?"

he tilts his head to the side, staring at you through his lashes, an inquisitive squint that makes him look a lot like a white cat.

you laugh a little, and his grin widens. "you heard me. name a woman. any; the first that comes to your mind."

he hums in acknowledgement, making a show out of tapping his chin with a finger in deep thought, a mock pensive expression twisting his lips down before he looks at you again, a teasing glint in his azure eyes that gives you a terrible sense of foreboding.

"kuroki meisa."

...

now it's your turn to ask. "what?"

he shrugs, a shit-eating grin on his face yet again as he tilts his shades down to give you a look that he knows will get you bothered.

"you heard me, princess. i named a woman. the first that comes to my brilliant mind, right? now how about giving me that juice box—" he starts, reaching forward and leaning in his seat to make another grab at the box perched on your knee. you yank it away from him just in time; his fists close around cool air and he groans loudly.

"you're no fun." he pouts, biting the inside of his cheek.

"satoru! who the hell is kuroki meisa? you were supposed to say me! or your mom, at least. or shoko." you glared at him, turning your nose up and refusing to acknowledge him as he pouts and crosses his arms over his chest like some petulant child who got his ipad confiscated.

"i did what you told me to do! you can't be mad at me for that." he protests, squirming in his seat.

a lightbulb goes off in your head; normally, that'd be a good thing, but the way you're gritting your teeth so hard he thinks your jaw might crack doesn't bode well. "wait, don't tell me. is she another one of those models? satoru, i swear—" you start, but he cuts you off hastily, making a mad grab at the juice box and coming out successful and surprisingly unscathed.

"she is." he says sheepishly, toying with the sad paper straw before attempting to take a sip. he struggles, but eventually you hear the tell tale sign of liquid moving up the hollow straw. you're too busy seething to notice, though.

"gojo." you say his surname, and he flinches a little, an overwhelming sense of icy dread sinking its claws into his shoulders as his grin turns into one of nervous panic. it's familiar; the one he experienced when you'd found one of your missing bras in the drawer compartment underneath his king sized mattress (that he always complains about feeling ten times emptier without you in it).

"yes, my sweet?" satoru's about to face you when something hits him square in the face— with all malicious intent and cutting cardboard corners. seven juice boxes on the table plus one half-filled one has now become six on the table, a half-filled in his hand, and another on the floor. you're glaring daggers at him, still posed to strike in your chair. he rubs his cheek, grinding his teeth together and grumbling before he looks at you again with an extremely disappointed expression on his face. "the plants, baby! if they didn't already dislike you, they sure do now." he huffs. but with the way you're looking at him, he wouldn't put it past you to throw the table at him next.

"give me my juice box back, you brat." you hiss, and he laughs, staring down at you like you're some cute little zoo animal. he wants to dote on you; he can't help it! you're so adorable, with your cheeks all red and your bottom lip sticking out in a little endearing pout. he wants nothing more than to drop the juice box, drag you onto his lap and squish your pretty face until you start complaining and stop him with a kiss.

satoru knows he won't get anywhere if you're still pissed at him, though, so he at least has to try and make amends.

"aww, don't worry, baby! you're the only woman i think of when i—"

"that's enough out of you, traitor."

satoru just grins and finishes off the juice box, relishing in the look of mild anguish on your face as you watch the cardboard crinkle inward like some black hole sucked it in; a telltale sign of what was half-filled a moment ago becoming completely empty; a dry well that was once your reservoir of life. you retreat back into your seat, hugging your knees to your chest and putting on your best, heart-tugging frown. it doesn't take long for satoru to notice when you do, and he immediately melts, tossing the juice box aside to the poor plants and leaning forward to cup your cheek in his palm.

"what's wrong, love? you know i only did it to see you upset," he chuckles, and you can't help but smile before remembering you're supposed to be pissed.

"that was the last juice box, satoru. and i'm still thirsty. and a little hungry." you sighed, rubbing your forehead. you felt a little guilty. "but it's okay."

satoru sighs, before pulling away and standing up, stretching his arms and cracking his back with exaggerated movements, like he's making letters out of his body.

"alr-ight! up with you, then. let's go to the market." he grins, lending you a hand and nudging your foot with his. you stare up at him with those sweet big eyes, and he feels himself melt a little.

"are you sure? they're expensive—“

"shut it, sweetpea. it's all on me. how does katsu sound?"

your face lights up, and so does his. after all, he'd do anything for his sweet girl— no model could ever compare to the very sun of his life; the brightest star in his sky.

not proofread i hope we’re not surprised my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and/or plagiarize !

[revenantghost]

The way that they put more effort into the cover design than any other aspect of these "deluxe editions"

[schneiderenjoyer]

The reason the whole age discourse is confusing is that bluepoch keeps pulling shit like THIS.

[longlivesteddie]

soulmates au where you start seeing color if you lock your eyes with your soulmate, rockstar!eddiesoulmates au where you start seeing color if you lock your eyes with your soulmate, rockstar!eddie

I need Steve to love Corroded Coffin so much he goes to their concerts every time they are in Indianapolis. This time is different. This time he manages to push through the crowd until he's almost next to the stage. Maybe he shouldn’t have done that. Because if he stayed behind like all the previous times, there would be no chance for Eddie – the singer – to look him in the eye. The world would not start coloring itself. The singing would not stop mid-song. And Steve would not have to run away like a kid.

Eddie deserves someone better. Someone less damaged, someone less needy and clingy. Steve’s so wrapped up in his own head in the train on his way home. He’s obsessively refreshing the corroded coffin tag on twitter, but it looks like the concert continued after.

And then for two months, there's nothing. No news, no concerts, no paparazzi photos. And then suddenly a new mini album. It’s under Eddie’s name titled: to my soulmate.

Steve manages to not listen to it for the whole 20 minutes. It’s just 4 songs. And they are all beautiful, all heart breaking.

The first one starts with Eddie saying: “This is for you, sweetheart.”

One of them talks about Steve’s face and the color of his eyes and Steve’s sure that Eddie couldn't see it from the stage with all the lights around them. Does that mean that he went through footage from the concert trying to find a glimpse of him? Could he check the names on all the tickets he sold? Did he try to search for him online? Did he go through the endless follower list on his instagram account, hoping he’s gonna find Steve?

Another one talks about how Eddie understands if he’s not enough for his soulmate. And Steve’s whole chest hurts so bad as he sobs through it. Eddie is more than enough, Eddie’s perfect.

The last one is a love song. Love at first sight. It’s about everything Eddie accepted to feel if he ever found his soulmate, it’s about how wrong he was, because the words can’t describe the overwhelming love he felt the moment they looked at each other. When the song ends, Steve can hear Eddie breathing: “If you want to give me a chance, I’ll be waiting where we met. Friday, 7 o’clock.”

And then it’s quiet.

Steve’s determined not to go anywhere. He has 5 days until it’s Friday. And then it’s gonna be over. Then, Eddie can find someone else. Someone better.

On Friday, he finally confesses to Robin. If she could reach through her phone, Steve’s sure she’d pull him by his ears and kick him towards Indianapolis. He tells her all his worries, all his reasons to not go to the club. He tells her that Eddie would not want him anyway. Who would want someone like him?

“Don’t you think he should make that decision himself?“ She asks and she’s right.

The last train leaves in less than an hour and Steve barely makes it. Shaking like a leaf he sits next to a window and tries to calm himself down. He managed to take a shower before, fix his hair and put on a Corroded Coffin hoodie. He’s gonna be 20 minutes late. And he hopes, he prays that Eddie will wait a bit longer.

When the bouncer finally lets him in, Steve runs down to the stage. It’s way past 7.30. He’s not sure where Eddie could be. There’s no band playing tonight. The club is half empty so it’s not that hard to check every table.

Eddie’s not here anymore.

Tears sting his eyes. He squeezes his nose. And goes towards the bar to ask for rum and coke. He chugs half of the glass on his way towards an empty table. He writes Robin a quick message.

After he finishes his drink, he’s gonna find a place to spend the night, because there are no more trains going back to Hawkins.

Robin replies back almost instantly: “check his insta stories.”

But before Steve’s able to do that, there’s someone standing in front of him

“Hey.”

When he looks up, he’s lost for words. Because that’s definitely Eddie. Eddie, who looks so put together. A proper contrast to Steve’s red face from running and his puffy eyes from tears that haven’t fallen yet. It takes him a solid 5 seconds to say something back.

“Hi.”

Eddie gestures at him, smiling, like he can’t believe this is happening. Then he scratches his head and says: “I didn’t think this through.”

Steve starts laughing at the absurdity of it all and then he hears Eddie joining him.

“I’m Steve,” he finally introduces himself a minute later. He extends his hand.

“Steve, hi. I’m Eddie, but you probably already know that.” Eddie’s hand is warm and his handshake is firm. And he doesn’t let go afterwards.

“I’ve heard your songs... But you probably already know that too, since I’m here at all.”

“Did you – did you like them?” Eddie looks at him like it really matters. Like Steve’s opinion is important.

“I love them,” Steve exhales. “I’m sorry.”

Once he starts apologising he can’t stop.

“I’m so sorry Eddie. I didn’t. I thought you deserved so much better than me.”

“It’s okay. Hey, it’s okay.” Eddie says he grabs Steve’s chin and makes him look up. Eddie’s eyes are the prettiest shade of brown and Steve’s so grateful. “You’re here now.”

“I’m here,” Steve repeats. “I’m here and I’m not leaving.”

Less than a month later, there’s another mini album. Another 4 songs, but this time, they're all happy. And maybe the last one is Steve singing for Eddie.

[absolutely-not-my-main-blog]

[littleseasalt]

actually I think it's wild to think about how tallulah's death lead into forever being elected now that I think about it, cause it set such a domino effect for forever and philza's relationship and like. had it not been for philza voting for forever bbh would have won the elections

[wildflowersmeadow]

kill maim destroy slaugther

[yannaryartside]

The table scene: I will hold the world for you

Promises and friends with insecurities

This scene was the culmination of their arcs in this season; their arcs, in some senses, had nothing to do with each other but everything about wanting each other and figuring out how this partnership was essential to each other. Another long one.

Under the table is their relationship, trying not to collapse under the burden of the table, the world, and their trauma. 

Sydney had started the season wanting to be a partner to Carmy and finding a partner with him; he was, for her, a vehicle/support to tackle the big wolf of her insecurities, thinking her failures were her own fault, her burden. She was tired of feeling alone and not enough to walk the path of hurt, trials, and disappointments that her life has been. Carmy was also tired of feeling alone, of feeling unlovable. He saw a way to heal that in Claire and took it. In the process, he disappointed Sydney in his lack of commitment to the restaurant (and her); both were jet to decipher the true feelings they hold for each other, a truth that was to be set in the background, simmer and simmer, and then explode.

The explosion for Sydney occurs inside; she realizes little by little how much Carmy reveals to Claire. The explosion for Carmy went the inside out, the panic attack scene showing him what he had suspected all along. He was forced to confront the fact that his bond with Claire, even if he had feelings for her, was not enough to push away his fears and trauma (this was not a secure attachment; it was never based on two people actually knowing each other, or healthily supporting each other). I LOVE Carmy's face in this scene btw; he is so happy to see her in his mind; the fucker is like, "Oh, there you are; wtf can you do this to me? But thank god you do"

Sydney experienced Carmy pushing her away more and more as the season advanced, all while Carmy grew in discomfort with his "relationship" with Claire. Carmy and Syd tried their ways to make the situation more bearable. Sydney tried to communicate her needs for support in this scary process of creating a restaurant (trying to ignore her feelings); Carmy, being a clautrofuck of emotions for getting what he wanted for so long, to still feeling shit about it, was terrified of losing Sydney and tried to create a menu "for her" instead of "with her." But they never reached each other truthfully, even after this point, because they were so afraid to lose that glimpse of security they provided each other that they never went to the core of their fears. (they abused the "I am sorry" sign, made assumptions, and held to reservations and resentment).

They are walking on shifting sands, uneven terrytiory=uneven table.

AND THEN, THE TABLE SCENE

The blocking of this scene is phenomenal. They changed positions when they were changing about subjects in the conversation. All while they are trying to fix an uneven table. It is uneven because neither of them knows where they truly stand as partners, and yet, the scene manages not to be about partnership, but about relasionship, and frienship.

In the beginning, when Carmy shares his "burden" for this season: his relationship with Claire, the fact that she is excellent, but he cannot separate his trauma from her, not knowing what even a secure attachment is. Carmy is lying on the ground, his being exposed and vulnerable, resting. Sydney is holding the table when he explains all this to her while he is fixing "his side" of the table, his trauma, and his mistakes that had damaged their harmony. He acknowledges it and promises his entire focus from now on. Sydney also takes a moment to recognize that whatever Carmy has with Claire is something that he needs at some level, regardless of how that makes her feel (helathy or not, she sees that at some level, he wants it). She is holding the other side of the table. She is preventing it from collapsing on him, like he is giving him a space to feel his feelings, regardless of the pressure they both endure, as she has done with her actions all season. 

This is not about why she is carrying the restaurant herself, and neither is a way to imply she had to do it in order to be a good friend, of course not, but that is not what this scene is about. I think the conclusion of service in Service in Friends and Family is a more appropriate conclusion for Carmy's absence, and a better "punishment" even if she has yet not expressed how abandoned she felt by him, and all the ways he failed her, and let his trauma handle his time and his partnership with Sydney like shit. They may not be ready to be able to talk about that, nor do they know how to fix it. The service scene served for him to understand how badly he was not around. Decorated with the fact Sydney was able to guide the kitchen relying on others, being the true leader the restaurant needed.

The table scene, for me, is not about resolving any of that, it is about promises. Promises to find answers and realizing what they provide for each other.

The table scene is about two friends talking about their insecurities.

She holds the table while he confesses something he has never said out loud to anybody. Sydney is providing Carmy in this scene something he has never had: "a person to trust, to understand and to understand him, a person to know everything about, a best friend," anybody that he tried to form this with has hurt him at some point, Mickey being the most painful example, whatever he has wit Nat, or even Richie, doesn't come close by miles, he still carries reservations around them. He seems to have tried to establish that with Claire, surprised at how empty it left him anyway.

But when Carmy says "say more," asking her to change positions, now she is the one underneath, fixing her side of the table, laying on the ground, vulnerable, while he holds the other side. She lays down her fears of her past failures collapsing on her all at once, all the reasons she has always suspected she is not good enough for this, and he is the one reassuring her, holding the other side of the table, preventing the world (the pressure/trauma) from collapsing on her, giving her a space to confess without judgment. He gives her exactly what she needs; not only is she good enough for this, but not only does he know the desire to help people that drives her, but if fear creeps in, whatever obstacle or failure they face, he will hold her, and "they" will work on it. All this, all the things he gets from her too, he sees her, understands her, believes in her, and promises to be there for her, a best friend.

If anything, regardless of the context of what they need to do this in the first place, particularly on Carmy's part, even if is only promises for the momment, the table scene is a beautiful description of a partnership: you are not on uneven territory anymore; I will be the ground you walk on, I will build you up, I will give you a space to feel your feellings.

I couldn't do this without you I wouldn't even wanna do it without you You make me better at this I wound't let you (fail)

The harmony is restored, the ground of trust is settled, the table (the world/the trauma) is not collapsing on anybody, they both are compromised on a goal: supporting each other, whatever that leads them. Whatever that will mean in the future, finding new boundaries, ways to complement and help each other, maturing emotionally. These feelings? I don't know how to deal with them, but I will stand beside you.

Most importantly, they both realized that this security they give each other...they want it; they only had an idea of what their partnership could be at the beginning of the season, and now it has been revealed to them, just a taste, enough to get their hearts...wanting for more. 

You are not alone

[ambiend]

[born-in-hell]

I NEED TO SAY THIS

qBbh is NOT a cannibal. Why?? Cause his not human!!!

Yes im enough of a nerd for this to drive me crazy

This man is anthropophagic. He eats people. He eats a lot of things actually kkkk but he never stated that he has eaten demons

[rukia-g]

You know, if I had a nickel for every time I became obsessed with an anime/manga in which the main antagonist's problem is that he couldn't be normal about his twin brother, I'd had three nickels, which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened three times (and in the span of about fourteen months!)

[nocinovae]

If they were gonna do this why didn’t they just do it from right after the short shutdown.

Like if I remember the planning for all the start of the server took a while and even tho it’s not a complete start of a server they’ve lost like all their big writers, developers, admins.

Most of the players aren’t really interested or too much have stuff going on now so like are they getting new people? That takes a while to gather and plan?

Also I don’t feel like they’ve even tried to regain trust or show us they’ve changed. They just wave shiny new things in our faces. I’m so cautious towards anything from QStudios bc all I can think is “did the creator get paid” “are the admins rn treated okay?” I mean they haven’t even compensated or communicated anything or hell even just an apology and acknowledgment of what the admins went through this past year.

It’s so frustrating bc I want to like it. It’s still my hyperfixation as hard as I’m trying to throw myself into other content (bless the shelter mwah).

It drives me insane because regaining trust could be pretty easy. Like now we can even hold the CEO accountable bc we don’t know anyone behind the scenes in charge of QStudios. Which to me just makes me even more wary of trusting them.

Gah I could rant for days. It makes my brain feel like it’s gonna explode ffs

[causenessus]

guys I am once again waiting to go home BC EVERYONE DECIDED TO POST WHILE I WAS AT WORK /POS I PROMISE AS SOON AS I GET HOME I AM READING EVERYTHING THIS IS WHAT I WILL LOOK LIKE IN REAL TIME