favorite literary technique? checkov's gun.
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Gonna say it now- I think Crazy Carl has something to do with Maria's death
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I’m still not over this whole interaction, because honestly Dupree’s live-to-kill antics never get old to me. of course she stabs Tarvek out of gratitude, that’s how she shows affection
Gil’s used to it - consider the scene right before he gives her the wasp antidote - he’s working through her attacks without batting an eye, clearly something he’s done before. so of course he treats the incident like she spilled her drink at dinner, that’s the bit he and Klaus have been doing with her since day 1
BUT AGATHA - the last time she saw Tarvek get stabbed, it was in the chest, with a fast-acting, gruesome poison, and she was helpless to do anything about it. and this time we see her intimidate Bang like she’s never intimidated anyone before. every other time we’ve seen Agatha intimidate someone, it was a show of bravado or exasperation or fury, but we’ve never seen her go stone cold like this, and it is literally chilling
could you imagine volume I Agatha making Bangladesh Dupree practically shit her pants?? no way in a million years
she clearly loves Tarvek to have her protectiveness of him bring that out of her, holy fuck
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Wouldn’t it be so funny if Absolutely Nothing happened to anybody and we were all theorizing and ripping our hair out for nothing?
If They continue to do and say more and more “doomed by the narrative” stuff and then nothing at all comes from it?
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Lunar: Don't kill me, I have brothers that care about me!!
Eclipse: You think I give a shit about that?
Lunar: That wasn't a plea for mercy, that was a warning
Sun and Moon, bursting into the room: GET READY TO DIE AGAIN, MOTHERFUCKER!!!
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Also did I miss something or did they literally give us a Checkov’s gun by telling us Aziraphale has a gun license and a gun hidden in his library, only for them to use fire extinguishers as weapons instead????
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edtm hyperfix gettin so bad ive started associating checkovs gun with scott
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However Many Lines Regardless of the Date
(I think the original game title is Six Sentence Sunday? But numbers are made up and so are dates; they can be thrown away when convince calls for it.)
@words-after-midnight compelled me to actually get some writing done today, read his 19 lines here.
I feel like I've tagged too many people recently, so leaving this tag open and I'll instead bother people next Sunday.
Robin on a Beach passage:
As endless as the beach was it was not empty. I passed countless towels, umbrellas, sand castles, and other signs of life. The only thing this sand lacked was people. My walk eventually brought me to yet another sign of life: a beach house. My home for the past however long. It was small, cozy. Only had a couple of rooms with the largest being a kind of study with a large window facing the ocean. The study held what few items I considered mine: a satchel full of odd trinkets, a journal sprawled out on a desk, and a revolver inside said desk.
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Well…if there’s one (1) good thing about having a crush, it’s that when I’m (for the moment anyway) not worrying about the other person’s boundaries and terror about whether I’ve stomped on them or not + my own frustration at how slow things are to just communicate verbally and directly instead of constantly dancing around nonverbal reads (that are two-way, I suppose but still no substitute, can still mean just about anything)…
…yeah. I do let myself be selfish. Acknowledge what I want instead of burying it so deeply away from my consciousness to not “take up space” I suppose. Finally give myself some damn permission to fall in love with another person “despite” being ace, and “despite” being chronically ill and struggling with my mental health.
And what is it I want?
To feel cared for. Cherished. By someone here. To wake up and have someone greet me with a gentle embrace mindful of the constant chronic pain especially in the mornings to not accidentally pinch things, but not treating me like glass, either. To be given autonomy instead of having it taken away—to do things together, FUN things, without being made to feel guilty about that “taking away” spoons from chores or “well why won’t you just work a job then!” but also respecting my need to rest periodically or take a longer rest after the fact.
To feel heard. To trust that there’s love enough for us to disagree and feel angry and frustrated and sad around eachother and with eachother without judgement, without the risk that things are forever one disagreement or misunderstanding away from falling apart completely or worse.
And please tease me. Teasing is a love language just as much as communication and encouragement and acts of service and finally being held. It’s verbal play, and I trust you to not bully me.
And…I’ve shown as much as I can, I think. I know you’re trying to mirror at least some of it. And I think I’m reading you correctly, but I wish I understood why you seem so terrified to talk directly to me.
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