I love how we are basically opposites on the whole theory thing :
You predict plot points by making jokes that end up coming true
meanwhile me and my overdramatic mind obssesses over dark scenarios that would never fit into 9 episodes and then I'm surprised when they don't happen XD
Listen as long as you're enjoying what you're doing, I say have all the fun you want in fanon and taking insp from canon! That's the best part sometimes! <3
Although I have some things that started out as jokes that ended up being canon (my absolute favourite of which being this joke I made about Ezran in 2x04 that was then an actual thing in the s2 novelization) the weirdest thing for me has been like... the ultra specific thing / things I thought would be more metaphorical that ended up being more literal
AKA a list in no particular order
Me assuming since Through the Moon came out that Callum would inevitably play into Aaravos's hands and that the struggle to not do so would be his main conflict in arc 2 (which looking back, the possession plot line seems so thematically obvious I am genuinely a little sheepish I didn't see it coming)
The game motif being my favourite motif and then s4 fucking Delivered it was beautiful
Viren's atonement arc because of his eye symbolism
That the rune cube placement could be trusted to foreshadow things, specifically the Ocean rune in finding the prison and in foreshadowing Callum's dark magic use
Me going "Hey wouldn't it be Fucked Up if whatever comes out of the cocoon is like a child version of Aaravos?" (hi Sir Sparklepuff my beloved)
For that matter: that Aaravos would ask one of the mage fam to kill Sir Sparklepuff for a deep magic spell, and that they'd refuse to do so
Callum's interplay with freedom being too tethered to Rayla that I banked on her eventually being taken hostage and Callum doing morally ambiguous shit to save her like 3+ years in advance
Seeing Callum's S4 design for the first time and noting that the circlets around his wrists invoke chain symbolism but thinking "Nah him and Rayla being in chains like tarot cards will just be metaphoric right". Haha, no!
Ezran as the embodiment of Justice / the series' Witness (hell yeah thank you 4x03 & TOX for making Justice his highest value)
Predicting Rayla's entire arc 2 arc thus far re: her paranoid and restless nature being what puts them on the path to finding Viren and her wanting a rematch, the coins, and her self worth issues, written March 2020 (months before TTM came out)
Callum and Viren as each other's primary foils (begun before this but started being highlighted further from Nov 2019 onwards with specifically thinking that S4, as opposed to s3, would crank it up to an 11)
Rayla and Callum's whole ass light-dark motif that I thought would be a fun consistency in the background rather than a whole ass arc defining Thing
Characterization wise but Ezran as an Enneagram Nine The Peacemaker personality wise (once again thank u 4x03)
Back in Aug 2021 I noticed that bloodbending had thematic similarities to dark magic (in terms of framing, notions of control & agency) but again, didn't think it'd amount to literal likewise puppeteering (Aaravos is/was even imprisoned like Hama too!)
Seeing parallels between dark magic and thematic/metaphorical cannibalism / positing Aaravos as a cannibal in a fic I wrote in 2019 but never ever thinking it'd be more than metaphorical bc kids show, am I right? (when I tell you I screamed)
Like 3 weeks post s3 I came up with Political Trio Theory in which Ezran and Rayla are at odds about something and Callum is caught in the middle, as he agrees more with Rayla but feels like he should side more with Ezran, which an Ezran / trio centric conflict along those lines seems to be what we're going to get personally with Runaan / the coins in future seasons
Which, not only is it mostly to keep my English major-y brain sharp and my enclosure enriched (parallels are my perpetual hamster wheel), but it's also like... obviously predicting from theme/motifs isn't perfect, but it does mean you have all the right pieces. Then it just comes from running through the options to assemble what the puzzle might look like, & also thinking through the constraints of structure and run time (ergo I wasn't surprised when Callum didn't figure out the mirror himself in early S4 cause I just didn't think the show would have time for that kind of slow build).
Like following S2 I never really thought Callum's journey with dark magic was precisely over, firstly because I saw him absolutely as someone who would do dark magic / things he morally is against again if put in the exact circumstances he was in S5 (hence the CHET predictions post up above), but also because as our primary mage character and with dark magic being the core ethical dilemma for mage characters in the show, it just didn't make sense to assume that it'd be entirely resolved with a neat little bow 2/6 (since at the time we thought it'd be 6 seasons) in. Like - what? So that's something from an analytical standpoint of characterization, theme, and structure, for example, and TDP gives us a decent amount of time to get used to all those things especially in the first three seasons and then we can kind of build our predictions neatly from there.
So what usually happens is that I'll have a passing thought / gut reaction, think "huh maybe it's something," and then actually think about it for like 2 days to 2 weeks and realize that it loops back in with a lot of other stray thoughts and that there's something Substantial there. It never stops being wild
Anyway this was definitely way too long a response so TLDR; I'm always pleasantly surprised / excited whenever I predict anything correctly and also adore when the show throws me a curve ball (hi Terry <3), and the fun of theorizing (and sometimes throwing spaghetti at the wall) for me comes down to the themes and parallels and fun (fanon if nothing else) possibilities I can find. I love writing meta, speculative or purely analytical, even if/when they're often time consuming. My instincts haven't steered me too 'wrong' with TDP thus far, and I don't think they ever will!
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02×06: Ni Weh Sesh (I Have No Heart)- the rest
Awww! One speech by Kolya and First Army loves and accepts the Second!
Now Baghra was basically an adult, when she killed her sister, and "got banished"? More reasons for sympathy then! Look, she feels bad about it!
Alina's First Army uniform with Suns on shoulders is gonna give me nightmares. Some leader of Grisha!
Oh, and Aleksander can Cut whole army camp. Fascinating... I wonder why he never used it in a battle before? There shouldn't be any wars in Ravka, if it's this easy...
Huge fan of his evil little sidekicks. "Wow boss, you've totally annihilated them! Can we move on to killing children now?!" Just when I thought the writers can't get more pathetic.
Morozova did blood magic! For PLOT reasons!
I can't! Jessie did puppy eyes! Why is she so cute?!
Here Baghra dies nobly saving Alina by ~fighting~ the Darkling! (By her suicide.) Do you know that feeling, when every molecule of your body wants to murder someone?
The Tether no longer exists. Not just that they made it all about the gross badge in Aleksander's hand, they destroyed it too...
"I set aside the remaining bone dust [from Baghra’s finger] to select Grisha." ...so now a single amplifier can be used by more Grisha? Or are they just gonna snort it for fun?
Malina kiss score: Whole shitload and a sex scene. Ew.
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' ( glowing ) : one muse silently grabs the other and points to a set of glowing eyes in the dark near them ' for @punktrsh
snow has a tendency to silence everything around it, wrapping all surroundings in a white blanket, and muffling all noises. silas has to admit that cold winter weather is his favorite. he likes the feeling of snow crunching beneath his boots. although it's foolish the consider it a reality, silas feels as if the cold tones down the heat constantly burning in his body.
a simple stroll around the neighborhood leads them through the local park. during the day, and when the weather permits it, children flock to the metal and plastic environment like ants to a drop of honey. but tonight it's empty, most of the bright colors blanketed in a sheet of fresh, glittering snow.
silas uses a bare hand to shovel the white stuff off the plastic swing. it melts upon impact, dripping down to the woodchips and slush as water. when he sits down, he can hear the slightest sizzle, like a hot coffee pot going back on the warming plate with droplets of liquid on it.
as the conversation begins, so does the slow movement of the swings. it's not a deep exchange of words, but it's enough to dull his senses, so much to the point where he almost didn't notice the set of eyes watching them from between tree trunks.
he observes it for a moment. when the pale yellow eyes blink, silas lets out a small, tired sigh. "what do you think it is?"
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!! female reader; dirty talking; breeding kink; slight overstim play; unrealistic sex x’>
thinking about how simon’s the type to keep saying filth to you when he’s balls deep. how, in the throes of his pleasure, so pussy-drunk, simon begins to wax poetry about the way you make him feel.
he’s got you folded in a mating press, his lips ghosting wet kisses along your trembling legs. “god, baby,” simon murmurs, his voice a drunken slur. “i need t’wife you up, i swear.” he punctuates this with a thrust, before his fingers pinch your clit.
you choke at the feeling, your legs kicking from where they’re slung over simon’s shoulders. your head thrashes against the pillow, not knowing how else to tether yourself from the stinging pleasure, your mouth falling open uselessly as garbled moans spill out.
“oh this,” he says, distracted by your reaction. “cute little thing, isn’t it?” he looks at your pussy almost with a starry-eyed gaze.
jesus-
“shu-ut up, si!” your voice breaks, weakened from the moans, but simon’s already looking too far gone, his eyes blown wide and his face flushed because of his pleasure.
“y’just squeezed me tighter, baby.” simon rips his eyes from your cunt to look at you with a sort of giddy trance. “y’like it when i play with–” he circles his thumb on your clit, making you squeal. “this? yeah? oh, lovie, you’re gushing.”
he pulls out, torturously slow, teasing, then he’s slamming back in. your ears ring at the resounding wet slide, his pelvis meeting your own with a goddamn squelch, and you scream, clawing at his back at the sharp pleasure that razes through you.
“going t’stuff you w’my cum everyday, baby.” simon giggles. “going t’make you so full.”
he nuzzles his nose on the side of your tear-soaked cheek. “y’want that, yeah? want t’feel sore because of how much cum’s stored in you? want t’be fucked until it takes?”
what-
“si! si!” you cry, mushy mind trying to understand what he’s insinuating. “wha- wh-…?”
“oh but you’d be so gorgeous, baby,” simon groans, his hand leaving your oversensitive clit to hike up along your body, dancing past your groin to plant just below your belly button. simon nuzzles close again, tracing the shell of your ear with his lips, then, “you’d be so pretty carrying my kids.”
those words make your body lock up, something in your mind just shifting right, and then you’re cumming, squirting all over simon’s cock and spraying on his legs.
simon outright moans, pulling back just enough to slot his lips against yours. you couldn’t even kiss him back, still so busy cumming, all cross-eyed at the intensity of your orgasm. it doesn’t matter to him, anyway, not when simon begins pistoning harder. faster. rougher.
every drag of his cock back in your pussy pushes more gushing squirt from you, and simon rumbles with a pleased groan, looking so blissed out as he leaves open-mouthed kisses along your jaw. you dig your nails at his back but simon doesn’t even register the prickling pain, too busy chasing his own orgasm through your cunt.
“s’right,” he coos. “nothin’ else could make me cum, baby. nothin’ else but y’r pretty pussy. y’r tight pussy. god, it’s such a delicious pussy, baby, how am i so lucky to have you, huh?” his words mingle with the thwap-thwap-thwap sounds of his body slamming against your own. it makes you dizzy with pleasure, ragged rasps of breath is all that is passing through your parted lips.
simon croons. “how’d i chance luck and end up w’such a delight?” another wet sound from your pussy rings amidst his words. “mmm, hear that baby?”
you nod, you think. or you moan a reply. honestly, you don’t even know, not with how dizzy you are at the peaking pleasure because there’s no way you’re cumming again–
“that’s the sounds that a happy wife makes,” simon purrs, replying to his own question, and the weight of his words washes over you like the pleasure that’s racing across your synapses. “that’s the sound that someone makes when they want to be bred.”
“simo-nnnnn!” you scream, the sound guttural and ragged, and your eyes can no longer see anything, and your ears are ringing, and- and–
simon laughs, the sound curling into something so, so fond. “y’r so pretty when y’cum, baby.” he kisses your wet cheek. “one more? f’r me?”
fuck-
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