Lorical



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  1. Public Bookmark 33

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    It’s a cold, drafty night in their little fortress when Wilbur kneels next to Tommy’s cot, hunched over with his head in his hands, and whispers, “I don’t think I know how to love you anymore.”

    a look at brothers, things that change like the tides in the ocean, and the enduring nature of love

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    22 Oct 2021

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    "But-" Tommy blurts, surprising himself. Puffy looks up encouragingly. "But, I used to- I mean I did have something like that. A while ago- fuck, a long time now- I did some sewing. Most of the time I was mending clothes during the war, or in Pogtopia, but still it made me all calm and shit like you said, so it's- it's good right?"

    "Yes," Puffy nods, smiling, still encouraging. Something tight in Tommy's chest eases. "Yes, that is good. If sewing is something that helps take your mind off your anxieties and grounds you and makes you feel accomplished afterwards, then that means it's a good coping mechanism."

    or, Tommy uses needle and thread and a little bit of therapy to heal (his friends follow suit)

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    16 Oct 2021

  3. Public Bookmark 13

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    pal·in·drome
    /ˈpalənˌdrōm/

    a word, phrase, or sequence that reads the same backward as forward; something that begins the same as it ends

    -

    “I don’t need to worry about L’manberg because you’ve got it,” Tommy says, like it’s obvious. “L’manberg’s in your hands. You’re gonna be okay.”

    It’s funny; Tubbo expected the weight of an entire country to be more significant.

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    05 Oct 2021

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    Tommy is Death.

    A short three word sentence, simple in presentation but so much more complicated beyond it.

    He is Death. He does not always have a body, but when he does, it has a heart and lungs and ribs to protect them, and he has ichor in his veins and golden marrow. He is immortal, and sometimes he does not have a body and is instead the wind, the air, the little spaces inbetween.

    He is not human, and it is his duty, as has been allowed by the universe, to draw spirits from the dark, from dirt and flesh, to guide and love and protect.

    He has not always been like this, but that is a story for another time.

    For now, Tommy is Death, and he is who guides creatures into rest but does not choose when they die, and he is kind, is love, is the shepherd, the protector, the warden of all life and that which is beyond it.

    And that is enough. That is all.

     

    Or, an exploration of life, death, and what it means to be human, featuring God of Death Tommy & human!SBI and beeduo.

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    03 Oct 2021

  5. Public Bookmark 15

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    “Tubbo! Tubzo, you’re awful at this,” Tommy jests, and at first Tubbo thinks he’s making a sly comment about his half assed guitar skills. He humours him anyway and looks up, coming eye to eye with the sun peeking through the treetops. It’s only then that Tubbo realizes Tommy meant the sunrise: he had missed it, too focused on getting the music right.

    “Tommy!” Wilbur scolds, reaching behind him to smack the boy on the back of his head playfully. They share a grin that passes through Tubbo, speaking like he was still asleep and tucked away inside the van. “My main man- don’t be mean to Tubbo.”

    He chuckles good-naturedly and sets down Wilbur’s guitar beside him, pushing it towards the man. “It’s alright Wilbur,” Tubbo reassures him with a roll of his eyes, “I don’t mind! There’s always another one.”

    Or: Tubbo experiences multiple sunrises; they're not as beautiful as they seem.

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    28 Sep 2021