#so like. there's a certain sad aptness here i feel.

[nostalgia-tblr]

not to Discourse, but about Sylvie snapping at Mobius:

She was right. She could have said it nicer (well, someone else could have - i adore Sylvie but i wouldn't really say she's consistently 'nice' and there are very obvious reasons for that in her backstory) but it's true, Mobius has been bizarrely chill about so many things this season, to the point where it does seem odd, actually. I think it's easily missed (maybe?) partly because fandom has decided long ago that Mobius is some sort of therapist/social worker who is always calm and so emotionally insightful and his role in fanfic is to be supportive at the more obviously fucked-up characters. But like. He's also fucked up. He's already said that he's avoiding finding out about his old life in case it was good, so it's not like "Mobius won't let himself think about the sad things" is a new idea, is it?

I don't think Sylvie gets why he's like this (or she wouldn't have been so angry, for a start) but those two have spent very little time together (I think we the audience sometimes forget how little) and I know shipwars are inevitable and eternal but the show really does kind of break down into Loki-with-Mobius and Loki-with-Sylvie almost like two parallel worlds that interact less than might be expected. So why does Loki not "stand up for Mobius" there? Well there's the fact that it's true and that Loki was (unlike Sylvie) there when Mobius said he's scared of uncovering his old life so is more likely to connect the dots. And the element of "oh no my faves are fighting! i cannot take sides or at least one of them will hate me! i shall just stand here awkwardly and say nothing!"

I assume Loki and Mobius will talk this stuff over at some point, but in this episode there's not time for any of the several conversations that need to happen (and presumably this is a deliberate writing choice to drag things out a bit keep the tension up) and idk about anyone else but I would find it a bit weird if Sylvie had instead been unusually gentle (for her) and softly asked Mobius if he's feeling okay or does he want to have a chat about anything? Perhaps over a nice cup of tea and some chocolate biscuits? Nah, she's tense, of course she's going to snap. Ideally she wouldn't have done that but *gestures vaguely* what about any of this situation they're all in would you describe as "ideal"?

Maybe she'll apologise in one of the remaining episodes. But if she does he'll say that her observation was right, if not delivered in a way he'd have preferred.

tl;dr - Mobius is fucked up too and Sylvie (who has just in as many words says she thinks being soft makes you weak) is not diplomatic at the best of times, let alone while the multiverse is in the process of collapsing/exploding/whatever-the-fuck-it's-doing.

#loki spoilers #sylvie my precious blorbetta #mobius #also the reason sylvie doesn't have the manners of a (literal) prince is the people mobius just spent however-long working for. #so like. there's a certain sad aptness here i feel. #or maybe the pie really is drugged after all! either works!

[phantom-of-the-501st]

Thoughts on TBB 3x15

Here we go... one last time

SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT

Honestly thought I was going to be late to the episode but I actually work up at 8:01 am today so I am just a couple mins behind everyone else.

Am I prepared? Absolutely not.

Well that's an ominous noise. Always a good way to start 😰

The Kiner soundtrack is popping off as usual

I just need Hemlock to die

Indispensable? I'm not sure about that, mate. A lot of people have realised the Empire don't need them and I'm fairly certain you are on the list of people who can be ditched

Hahahahahaha the way the droid just starts looming behind her is kinda hilarious

OMEGA'S THEME 😭

Wrecker, bud, be careful...

Look at Omega sneaking around. She's so grown up! 🥲

ZILLOBEAST TIME

"Because that's exactly what I'd do" He's such a proud mum

THE WAY THE TROOPERS COME FLYING OUT OF THE FOG

"Clone Force 99 died with Tech`' well there goes my heart. I think this also explains why we haven't really heard the Batch theme since season 2. That theme was for CF 99 and if that doesn't truly exist anymore...

"It's what I deserve" CROSSHAIR DON'T DO THIS TO ME

"Echo's handiwork or Omega's?" "Omega's." I'M DYING

Omega's theme in this soundtrack is just 🤌

Oh great. We have a whole group of Clone Xs to contend with.

I just need all of the Batch together so that we can get the theme. I know I said earlier that we probably never got it because of a lack of Tech but I still stand by the fact that we deserve to hear it one last time.

These CX soldiers almost feel like a parallel to the Batch. One slightly larger, more hand-to-hand combat oriented soldier, one who fights with blades, a sniper, ONE WHO IS VERY TECH SAVVY 👀

WRECKER AAAAAAHHHH THIS IS NOT GOOD

NOT THE HAND

WTF?!

HELP

NO

THIS IS NOT GOOD 😰

Fuuuuuccckkk Echo's seen them down

"Causing chaos, Havoc 5?" HE'S STILL MAKING QUIPS IN THIS SITUATION I LOVE HIM

"Hey, kid. And... other kids." PLEASE 😭

"We'll meet you there" YOU BETTER DO

Echo and Omega teaming up is everything I ever needed ❤️‍🩹

Hemlock needs to die a slow, painful death

ECHO'S SPEECH FEELS LIKE THE SPEECH HE AND FIVES GAVE DURING THE ATTCK ON KAMINO I FEEL SICK

Rampart looking sus...

This feels like this isn't going as terribly as it could be and that scares me

Aw ☹️ bye, Nala Se. I never really loved you but it's sad to see you go

HAHAHAHAHA FUCK YOU, RAMPART

AAAAAAAHHHH ECHO GOT STABBED

You know what I said 2 seconds ago about it not being terrible? I think I spoke too soon...

YES WRECKER

I'm not liking the position Echo is stuck in rn. That stresses me out 😥

We're not exactly in top form but hey, an attempt is being made

ECHO BE CAREFUL

Soooo... I get the feeling CX-2 isn't Tech...

AW NO SCORCH

FUCK YES!!! Bye Hemlock 👋

THE LOOK ON CROSSHAIR'S FACE WHEN SHE HUGS HIM AAAAAHHHH

Tarkin is not going to be a happy bunny

Oop we got a Project Stardust mention

THE SHOW ENDING WITH THEM ON PABU??? LIKE AN ACTUAL SOMEWHAT HAPPY ENDING???

I'm crying

Actually sobbing

That shot of them all sat by the tree 😭😭😭

A FUCKING EPILOGUE KMN

I can't breath

SHE REMINDS ME OF PHEE AAAAHHH

GONKY!!! 🥹

OLD HUNTER?!

Omega is joining the Rebellion? 🥺

Crosshair, Hunter and Wrecker all got to live to an old age in relative peace I'm in so many tears rn

Okay but if Echo isn't with the others at this point then where is he??? PLEASE TELL ME HE'S STILL AROUND

TECH'S GOGGLES?!

I'm not okay on any level

Okay, so overall, I'm relatively satisfied with the ending. I also cried about as much as I would have done if they all died so my emotions are still all over the place. Do I think every question we had came to a satisfying conclusion? Not quite. But I think we tied up enough loose ends for me to be content.

And I'm happy they got a somewhat happy ending. Knowing that they get to live a life in relative peace makes me happy, and we know that Hunter, Wrecker and Crosshair at least make it another few years. Omega joining the Rebellion also seems apt. As an Echo girly I unfortunately don't feel quite as secure with where we left off. I don't have the same level of closure that I do with the others because we know that around this point in time, he isn't with Rex. But he also isn't with the Batch either. I hope we get to see more of him in future projects because I don't quite feel satisfied with this being the end of his story. He's doing too much for it to stop there.

Also... we were wrong about Tech. The level of delusion we carried throughout this season, my god. 😭 But it means I'm confused by some of their choices. The way they focused on being savvy with technology, the way he moves being similar to Tech, FUCKING DOMICILE??? Like, they have to have known that we would all go that way with our theories so why??? If it wasn't him they why was he written the way he was? I refuse to believe everything we thought was purely out of delusion. Does this mean I have issues with the way Tech's story ended? Yes. But overall I think the show wrapped up fairly well.

I'll try and drop some more thoughts later down the line once I've pulled myself together a bit, but for now I can say that I am content. Completely satisfied? Not really, but definitely content.

#well that's it #the end of the bad batch #I'm going to try and throw some more coherent thoughts out over time #but for now I just need to think on things for a little but #but how are we all feeling? #the bad batch #the bad batch season 3 #the bad batch spoilers #tbb spoilers #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb omega #tbb echo

[vestaclinicpod]

Audio Drama Sunday - 24th December ❄️✨

A very festive Audio Drama Sunday to you all! I think Christmas has come early this year because so many of my current fave shows gifted us new episodes this week! 

🤠 OUGH I’ve made it up to ep 9 in @caravanradio and this is where it starts absolutely punching me in the heart. I’m so excited to listen to ep 10 but then it’s over AGAIN. All I want for Christmas is S2 of Caravan to be perfectly honest. 

🧳 Travelling Light by @monstrousproductions (7) This episode made me feel homesick for a culture that doesn’t even exist. I found the philosophy discussed so interesting and keep mulling it over! I don't know what metaphorical shoreline I'd be considered part of!! 

👁️ I bloody loved Benevolent by @malevolentcast. They absolutely nailed the cheesy Christmas special vibe and I was so happy to hear the long-awaited return of arguably the best character in anything ever at the end there.  

🌒 @monkeymanproductions I loved the answers to the MTO Q&A! I just adore this show and it’s always so interesting to get the behind the scenes scoop!! I really do want that Cass-only episode though. Pretty please? 

🎙 Welcome To Night Vale (240) ahhh!!!! What does this mean?! If this is going to be an exploration of nature vs nurture I am so here for it. Let’s . . . maybe let’s not kill our doubles this time? 

🏛 @the-mistholme-museum RUINOUS. Oooh I love a twist on a fountain of youth story and this one was particularly gripping. There are so many new revelations so far this season and I’m thrilled to hear that we’re getting two more episodes! I don’t want it to end!

🎧 Yay more The First Episode Of with @starshipqstar. It was absolutely fascinating from a very indie creator POV to hear how people with talent and experience found approaching audio drama for the first time. But I also think it’s important to address the DEEP SADNESS that there will not be a Starship Q Star season 2!! What?!! Christmas is CANCELLED. 

🐬 The dolphin emoji I use to denote @patterspod has never been more apt as we met Big Wave Dave in the latest episode. If you like weird and you’re not listening to Finding Pattersby, I just don’t know what to tell you. It’s just something else. 

🌨️  @thewhitevault (4) oh MAN I love this show so much.  I refuse to believe that a certain character is really dead but … maybe they are, I just can’t accept it. It sounds as though something absolutely monumental is happening to the show’s main family and I need to know how the stories are going to entangle!!! 

❤️‍🔥 The Love Talker (5) Jeeeeesus this show almost makes me regret listening to it every episode. I love this set-up where we get a new character’s perspective each episode, every new piece of the puzzle is even more disturbing than the last. 

🏢 @somewhereohio (S2E3) oh no! It’s spreading!! It’s honestly a little funny to me to listen to the show as someone who has no context of what makes Ohio, Ohio. I’m sure I’m missing a lot of cultural context but also, after listening, I’m probably not going to visit . . .  also it’s great to hear Rae Lundberg popping up in new shows - they always do such a good job!

🧬 Regina Prime - What a fun departure from the world we think we know in this bonus Regina Prime episode! I feel like the next season is going to be even more expansive and I’m very excited for it!! It’s also made me realise that I no longer trust W Keith Tims in anything after listening to The Love Talker! 

I hope everyone’s having a wonderful festive season! I’m going to be doing the #12DaysofPodmas again where I post an official review of a show I love every day until Jan 5th as a little gift to the amazing creators who’ve made my year so much better! I’m sure they’d love it if other people did the same! ☃️

#it's 23:51 lol #enjoying the last 9 mins of audiodramasunday as god intended #audio drama sunday #audiodramasunday #caravan podcast #travelling light #moonbase theta out #malevolent spoilers #the love talker #regina prime #welcome to night vale #finding pattersby #the white vault #the department of variance of somewhere ohio

[ghostboyjules]

It appears the last two (2)….times I’ve tried creating this post, tumblr thought I was too wordy, so I’m going to attempt to get in and get out before it eats itself again

this playlist (a Dream of the Endless™ character examination via my silly brain and sad ass music) took me entirely too long and I'm going to throw my laptop out of the window if I have to look at it any longer so pls pls take it and I hope that if you listen or even read the lyrics that you find something new, or hear something you like.

This absolutely would not have ever seen the light of tunglr.hell if not for the beautiful souls of the Sandman fandom, and a few of my new friends and mutuals. So special internet cookies and hugs to these inspirational, encouraging, and beyond talented individuals; @wordsinhaled , @weirdfishy , @wizardofgoodfortune , and @xx-vergil-xx - i love y'all dearly and I hope this is even HALF of what you would have expected, or a quarter of the amazing content y'all have bestowed upon my lil eyeballs. Now Onward! to words that personally injure me!

Florence + The Machine -Too Much Is Never Enough

And the crown, it weighs heavy 'Til it's banging on my eyelids Retreating in covers and closing the curtains One thing's for certain, oh A year like this passes so strangely Somewhere between sorrow and bliss

Oh, who decides from where up high? I couldn't say "I need more time" Oh, grant that I can stay the night Or one more day inside this life

~I first encountered this song in it's source material FFXV, and there it destroyed me. Now, wearing my dumb lil blorbo glasses yet again, it is back with vengeance..goth royalty sad wet cat flavored (gross), vengeance. "too much is never enough" .... oh sweeties...

VIRA - God Complex

God, I could try To be the one To be the one I'll tear down the sky What do you want? I'll do it all for life My love, my alibi Tonight, tonight I'll try to do it for you

I'm gonna be where you are Doesn't matter how far Because we are meant to be I'm gonna be what you need Darling, please worship me Unless you prefer to plead

~pretty sure this is the angriest sounding song on this thing? but it is fitting.. and desperate.. and wanting and... painful. when she grits out 'try' and 'sky' the way she does.. god the emotion. this just brought to mind Dream and falling for someone hard enough to the point of destructive devotion...

AJJ - Body Terror Song

It will betray you Be used against you Then it will fail on you, my dear But before that, you'll be a doormat For every vicious narcissist in the world Oh, how they'll screw you all up and over Then feed you silence for dessert

~ I love seeing people explore the idea of Dream just...not vibing with being fully corporeal. At least not in the way he is while in the Waking.. what a mood, and especially after the fishbowl...whew.

Philip Wesley - Lamentations of the Heart

[Instrumental~]

~I wanted to include a few instrumental tracks in here and this one felt apt because I used to fall asleep to this album all the time. Like it was one of the only ones I could fall asleep to with any certainty. The feeling and title for this one tho struck me with Dream specifically so I went with it. The rest of the album is so nice though, highly rec.

Iris Lune - Paper Mache

Save me from myself I've been in the dark too long Paper mache love Make me believe that I can change Make me believe that I'm not strange At all

~ this song!! it sounds so so ethereal and her voice is GORGEOUS but the lyrics!! have mercy the lyrics! big ole owwie! "save me from myself" , "make me believe that I can change, make me believe that I'm not strange" hhhh (also if y'all couldn't tell, this will be dreamling flavored, I think I'll tag them too jic but. yes...)

Penny and Sparrow - A Kind of Hunger

tremble, recognize the distance Go try and murder every preference I’ll keep hangin' ‘round for reference come care about me come care about me

changing, watching you with wonder you’re less and getting even younger dying is just a kind of hunger come care about Me come care about Me

~this is... such a heavy song. hadn't heard it before starting this playlist but found it and immediately had to add it.. just. come care about me. changing, watching you with wonder. Dying is just a kind of hunger. that line specifically. -lays on the floor for 3hrs-

Carly Rae Jepsen - Gimme Love

Gimmie love (Oh) It's the way we are together (Oh) Wanna feel like this forever, forever (Oh) It's the way we are together And I never thought I'd ever say forever

~originally was gonna be a joke song to lighten the mood but haha! nope! I mean it is lighthearted but it still absolutely, in my mind, fits Morpheus. beautiful babygirl of the endless...smooch

Jon Bellion - Stupid Deep (Acoustic)

What if who I hoped to be was always me? And the love I fought to feel was always free? What if all the things I've done Were just attempts at earning love? Yeah 'Cause the hole inside my heart is stupid deep, oh, stupid deep

~this song fucks me up! 😀 for real though, I highly suggest watching the acoustic performance of this that he has on youtube cause the vibe is so.. intimate and dreamy and gorgeous.. and the lyrics.. jon bellion, sir.. smh.. the ending..

Marika Hackman - Undone, Undress

They heard my heart for miles The air inside Was seeping out In silent shouts It crumpled in my chest

~this is definitely... a nightmarish..creeping kind of song, and the lyrics are, according to the Genius annotations, rather distressing but I don't really see them the same way. I can't really explain it but hopefully y'all will see what I mean. love this one specifically "Load me heavy, I can't bend. Break me better, so I won't mend" break me better.... hhhhhh

DBMK - Switchblade

Did you hear I coughed my heart out? It never fit me so I'm likely to drown My body yearns for something real now Suggesting kitchen counters, can openers, and close encounters to hold me down Ain’t no one's boyfriend, wow I'm busy up in my brain but they don't see anything, yeah

I open up too easily, look at me Single sided blade of insecurities, yeah I open up too easily, speak to me Cutting through my comfort like its misery, sad

~this. SONG. he just like me fr 😔 azdcafs nah, honestly idk if this is projecting, but to MEE I like to think about Dream being so ready for a partner, and he gives so so much of himself to them and loves so passionately but he also has just... so many issues. just ugh this song..

Blegh - His Hands

He feels handcrafted just for you But he's a little bit too far away and You can't, you can't His hands are on you And you know you'll be gone by the morning but you know he loves you And you know you like his strong hands, strong hands

You're too real for me You should go to something better I'll give you to someone better I have friends that'll be on earth for longer I have friends that won't feel like monsters

~another song that I was not prepared for before hand that ruined me so viciously, that I had to scream at multiple ppl about it, most of which were mentioned in this post, but Verg's reaction was very memorable because I believe she told me she was on public transportation and the way she phrased it had me rolling around on the floor. but yeah y'all just gotta hear this fuckin,... bear mace of a song (with your Dreamling Glasses™ on pls, as i believe it is meant to be asxacsgdcvc)

Agent Fresco - Wait for Me

I can’t see clear The rage of rivers roam every tear They all fall through vague and vast tunnels With hurts of hatred came blinding years Will they disappear?

I’m far away, treading a path I’ve made and it’s laid with stones of fallen love I need to feel and to make atonement before coming home

~-motions to song- I mean... c'mon... this alone? nah nah nah..I gotta lay down.

Talos - Endgame

I’m drawn across An empty space This dreamland now A tired waste O it’s the endgame

A blackout heart A seething truth There’s nothing in me Left for you We’re lies

~ Talos...Talos Talos Talos... y'all. if you don't know him, but like indie-ish electronic music with beautiful angelic Irishman vocals? pls... he makes me insane. He also just gives me Morpheus vibes in general, I'm not exactly sure why, but... I also think the cover art on his first two albums are very Morpheus energy, could just be me tho

Emma Ruth Rundle - Savage Saint

I held him, his whole life In my hands, in my heart

Don't be ever forgotten, Savage Saint Never draw blood in the garden, faint Don't be the name that's drawing shame and Never let your heart harden, little flame

~I knew I had to have Emma Ruth in here somewhere, but it took me a second to find the perfect song.. and I was torn between a few, but I saw this one and. Immediately my heart was out of my body. Thinking about Orpheus.. and Dream thinking about Orpheus.. draw blood in the garden,,, I held him his whole life.. in my hands in my heart.. little flame.. it seems I am upsetti spaghetti.

Sleeping at Last - Neptune

Stitch by stitch, I tear apart If brokenness is a form of art I must be a poster child prodigy Thread by thread, I come apart If brokenness is a work of art Surely this must be my masterpiece

I'm only honest when it rains If I time it right, the thunder breaks When I open my mouth I wanna tell you, but I don't know how I'm only honest when it rains An open book with a torn out page And my ink's run out I wanna love you, but I don't know how

~Sleeping at Last my beloved <3 ... if I could snort 'atlas pt 1 the album' I fuckin would. also there's a song on there for literally any blorbo. i could bet my life on that. somewhere on there! "if brokenness is a work of art, surely this must be my masterpiece" ah hah.. hahaha..

Sea Power - Want To Be Free

Now we're under the stars Smoking cigars On top of a motorcar Hanging out Like some kind of nebula We

Want to be free Want to be free It will last forever Eternally

~this one was more for vibes and because it's beautiful, but also if I think too hard about Morpheus and how he just wants to be normal and rest for a little while, then I will have to go eat a whole bag of chocolate chips and cry myself to sleep.

Clem Turner - Divine Loser

"Connect yet stay opaque," I cannot have it both ways Please do not tell the time I can't be trusted with the date

My god, you break the skin But may I be thy heaven? Will you take my sickness While I deprive you of your health?

~haha Divine Loser..defo Morpheus (jk. or am I) that second part I included.. I keep having to re-read those lyrics, cause.. my goodness. there's a part later that says "baby just let me bleed in peace" like... whoof. Clem Turner is the only person on here twice, mostly cause these two songs are just so phenomenal I had to and the lyrics... SHMACK.. and Clem's VOICE?? pardon me?

Clem Turner - Honeywell

Get it through your pretty head Take me with you instead Forget her, she's gone So, tell me, dear stranger What's got you distraught?

Mm, here I am to bring Psychosomatic freedom to your head May I be of service, newlywed? See me as a host to all your greatest dreams And then some change As long as your compassion stays the same

~"So tell me, Dear Stranger, what's got you so distraught?" Um..is that in a dreamling fic, cause... 👀 and then "see me as a host to all your greatest dreams and then some change, as long as your compassion stays the same." running in circles, sobbing, hopping out my window, running into the woods...etc

Mustapha Kamel - Can You Feel Me

[Instrumental~]

~ this song just makes me -lays face down in the carpet for 2+ hrs- and the cello is gahdamn gorgeous..

The New Basement Tapes - When I Get My Hands On You

When I come home to you Gonna take you down to the riverside When I come home to you Hold you in my arms all night

And now you know Everywhere on earth you go You're gonna have me as your man

~ Mushy Dream Rights!!! let this inconceivable being be a sap!! I love seeing him clingy and sweet and so so in love and just AAAHHH I could literally weep, I love this weird scrungly man.

Glass Animals - JDNT

I'm all armored up I've got my old helmet on Keeping out an eye Puffing all my feathers up One more little blow One more tap and I collapse

~heehee another nightmarish song. not only is this a fuckin BANGER, but Glass Animals has such a.. Sound. that's dreamlike most of the time, but sometimes can be so.. tense and creepy, and the lyrics can be violent and just downright odd. mostly from the zaba album, but regardless. I could talk about Dream + Glass Animals for hours, as proven with N (@wordsinhaled) because we have done exactly that, I think twice now lolololol (also I thought the line abt the helmet was.. hehe funny)

ABRA - Pride

Palms up, no crown You wanna mess around I wanna hold you down It's not okay I need you everyday

I lost all the pride That I thought I could keep Can you see me Say you feel me It's a big world But I fall at your feet Reach out and touch me

~ this was originally an entirely different song! but I switched it out last minute and I am v happy that I did because this song..this song fucks severely, but also it lets me put a facet of Dream on this playlist that I love seeing, which is the needy and seductive lil bastard that he can be. i think i could make a whole other playlist dedicated to that aspect tbh azcacdfavcg

Purity Ring - Asido

Oh, the madness in weakness Doubled o'er on the plate Fill an ocean with weaponry Hurricanes of our grace

Feel as lonely as I do, as I do Feel as lonely as I do, I do Feel as lonely as I do

~I wanted some Purity Ring on here because I know their genre is sometimes described as dream pop or witch house, and their lyricism has this... poetically visceral aspect to it sometimes that I adore while also being very ethereal. Love them. also tho, feel as lonely as I do?? of course it had to be in here.

Hozier - It Will Come Back

Don't let me in with no intention to keep me Jesus Christ, don't be kind to me Honey, don't feed me, I will come back

It can't be unlearned I've known the warmth of your doorways Through the cold, I'll find my way back to you Oh, please, give me mercy no more That's a kindness you can't afford I warn you, baby, each night, as sure as you're born You'll hear me howling outside your door

~ okay look, I know everybody and their mother who has made a playlist like this has put Mr. Andrew Hozier-Byrne on it, but like - come on.. look at those lyrics. He just Gets It™ and the music slaps ass! I have like, an actual Dreamling playlist in the works as well, which I'm sure will be... longer. but hopefully I'll have the foresight to work on it a bit at a time, and PERHAPS prepare a word document, since I cannot seem to help rambling at any chance I get 💀

Son Lux - Labor

I will break with you For your body to be freed and pleased Take the weight of you For your gravity to be erased

Come to life, my hungry arms are begging you But what more can you do?

Labor reveal before our eyes Into our ears Unfurl with light The stars around us disappear Just what is torn What comes alive inside of us

~ I wanted.. something big on here. I don't necessarily have a desired order for this to be played in, but this was the last one I added, if that tells you anything. The opening of this song is a little jarring, but the piano is so. beautiful. Son Lux has such a way of composing their music that just leaves me breathless and astounded at the feelings music can bring forward in me, and speaking in Dream terms, I feel like that would be the kind of song he really appreciates. I'm not gonna end this with rambling about the complexity of human emotion, because I don't believe tumblr could handle me doing that - operation-wise, i feel like it's abt to stab me as is- It's also not why I'm here lol. "I will break with you. For your body to be freed and pleased. Take the weight of you, for your gravity to be erased." the rest of that line literally mentions a phantom muse.. I think, viewing this in terms of Morpheus' marriage, and maybe even how he thinks about marriage as a concept is interesting. On Genius they mention that on a Son Lux insta story they talked about the first half of the song being about helping a friend die, and the second half about the birth of Ryan Lott's son. Looking at in that framing is also,,, WHEW.. okay this paragraph has been long enough lmao

WELL GEEZE.. looks like I've finally made it to the bottom without tumblr shitting itself again, so I'm gonna wrap this up before it gets the chance to. HAH.

If anyone has bothered to read this far; I cannot thank you enough nor can I tell you how much I appreciate you reading my inane mangling of the English language to be overly emo about music and a spindly nightmare of a man, but REGARDLESS. Thank you, I love you, and I would absolutely take a stab wound for you and make you cookies. 💕🖤💕🖤✨

#holy shit. #this is I think. the longest thing I have ever worked on and posted to tumblr dot hellsite.. #the sandman #dream of the endless #babygirl of the endless <3 #heh heh sorry i had to. it brings me joy. #also if y'all see typos -other than the on purpose shortening of words cause i am a lazy bastard first and foremost- ... no you didn't #i really mean it tho if you've read all of this AND listened to the playlist?? i would straight up die and kill for you sorry not sorry #okay i'm ... leaving my computer now because i've been here for.. #longer than i would like to disclose in my tumblr tags so.. tata for now beloveds #playlist #Spotify #dreamling #a hint of..or flavored ig.. #almost forgot to tag them hehe oops

[instantartific]

For the lovesick event, could we get Nova with "Shouldn’t you be spending more time with me?" Feels very him tbh lol

|ও DJ SUBATOMIC SUPERNOVA: "Shouldn't you be spending more time with me?"

587 words |

contains heavy themes of manipulation, themes that can be read as gaslighting, themes that can be read as coercion, heavy themes of forced isolation. |

Going for my heart with the first request being Nova. Anyways, I like the thought of a Nova that tries to guilt-trip you into only ever thinking about him and this would be part of the descent into that. Hope you enjoy! |

✧

It starts sweeter this time.

A better word may be gentle.

Soft phrases, words close to hushed pleas, fluttering across the room. They take so, so much care in delivering each vowel in dowries laced with silk. It's difficult to resist.

"While it grates me to no end to sound childish, it really doesn't seem fair for you to do this to me."

But you know him.

You know this changes, in late-night calls like this, where he only wanted a sliver more of your time.

As sleep tinges your senses with an off numbing hue, the words grow oh so colder. They grow oh so thin. They truly give his name such an apt meaning.

And he's only being patient.

"When I do try to make enough time for us to make plans, you want to cancel. Because of—what? What is it this time?"

You also know it wouldn't have mattered what you said.

Friends are irrelevant, you can simply reschedule for some other time that isn't already his. Which is understandable. It's wrong to promise someone your time when... you could've sworn you had no plans that day. He's chided you more than once for being oblivious to your own schedule.

Work is really quite trivial when someone with his degree of prestige offers to cover about any expense you wish, with minimal exceptions. He's mentioned in the past that housing falls right within his capabilities. It's truly a wonderful offer.

Family are clearly important to most, but don't they become too overbearing over time? You're not a child anymore. You don't need to be checked up on every interval they please. Besides, some get-togethers would really go better over the phone rather than going through all that trouble, wouldn't they? And at that, while it is a sad reality, certain relatives really only care about the status you have as their, well—relative. They don't even know you anymore, do they? You aren't the little one you used to be or the one they want you to be, and if they cannot accept that, then perhaps some distance is necessary.

So there really should be no excuse unless you don't want to spend time with him.

And you think that's the case, he cannot—he will not allow you to continue to socialize with whoever keeps poisoning your mind.

"I'll make this as easy as possible. You are going to arrive here in the next..." A slow, dragging sigh echoes through the reciever. He muttered bitter nothings too low to hear. But you can tell what they meant: you've made another mistake. "Two hours should be sufficient time for you to get your belongings together, should it not?"

Your final mistake.

"Don't act like you don't understand. You're smart enough to know that both in- and improper- action has as much consequence as action would. However, you're simultaneously distracted enough to continuously fail to manage your time and efforts properly. I'm giving you the opportunity to be distracted no longer. I'm sure you realize that, don't you?"

... As heavy as the lack of sleep weighs on your mind, perhaps this would be best. Less awkward reservations. Less irritating work hours. Less people who don't know you.

He's being generous. He's only worrying.

You know that, too.

So much so that it's difficult to refuse as his voice lulls into that near-heavenly tune, and he helps walk you through the most logical way to pack your things.

#... do i main tag this is the question. #why not. #nsr headcanons #dj subatomic supernova #djss #ও ~ ask game! #ও ~ writing event! #ও ~ writing

[hopepaigeturner]

An Offer From An Avid Reader: Swing Scene

I thought it was about time I returned to this series after a mess of my studies. Currently writing Eloise's storyline or Sophie's so for now, another little scene. A little adaptation that would take place in episode 5 before Grandma Alexandra's death. I present:

✨The Swing Scene ✨

(a rewrite of the 'garden scene' from AOFAG)

*~*~*~*~*

The opening shot focuses on Sophie reading a French book on a swing.

“Your book is upside down.” Benedict whispers, leaning over her shoulder.

Sophie jerks up and double checks, upon seeing it is a tease she glares at him half-heartedly.

“Do you live here?”

“No,” he sits down on the swing next to hers. “Although my mother constantly informs me that I should continue to make myself at home no matter how old I become, or whether she is conveniently out at a picnic with the rest of my family.”

“Hence why I thought I would get a blessed few hours of reading, but alas with you sitting there that will be impossible.”

“My presence is that compelling?”

“I would say disturbing would be a more apt descriptor,” Sophie quips back, giving him another glare that lacks all malice.

“What I find disturbing is that my mother is gone from the house on the precise afternoon that the servants have off, yet here you are reading. So, for the third week, you have neglected your freedom and insisted on staying here.”

Sophie turns back to her book, her eyes mechanically moving without comprehension.

“I think you mean to be flattering with such statements, but I feel more unnerved by the closeness of your inspection.”

“Why do you not go out Sophie? Why do you not join the other maids, or go shopping, or even visit Genevieve?”

“I like reading—and I do go out,” she points out, thinking of her afternoons running after a very spirited Bridgerton.

“Hmm, yes, Eloise’s little escapades,” Benedict says with a little grimace.

“I thought you support her endeavours to open her mind and prospects?”

“Not when it comes at the cost of her safety and, more importantly, yours.”

Sophei waves him off and returns to her book.

“I can handle myself perfectly fine, I have a lifetime of experience.”

“I know.” His soft tone distracts her and she turns to find a soft type of anguish on his face. “I see it. I see that shadow, that sorrow in your eye, so rarely gone.” Sophie tries to turn away, but Benedict gently turns her face back to his. “I cannot bear it when you look sad.” His fingers ghost her cheek, playing with a stray hair, “I wish you would share your secrets with me.”

“I have no—”

“Your secrets are eating you alive.” He looks into her eyes with a gaze that cuts Sophie to the core. “I would do anything to bear that burden for you.” He lifts her hand and kisses it. Sophie shifts away.

“Benedict we cannot—”

“We could—"

“No.”

Benedict sighs, a little pained but trying to cover it up. He shoots her a rueful smile.

“Have you always been this stubborn?”

“Only when I need to be…and perhaps for certain individuals.”

Their easy manner of before slips back in like the tide lapping up the shore.

“I shall take that as a compliment.”

“That was not a compliment.”

“Ah, but I chose to take it as one.”

“Ofcourse you would,” Sophie chuckles and so puts her hand over her mouth to smother it—as she has done all season. But just before she does, Benedict captures her hand and so, the sound breaks free.

“Excellent,” He says staring at her with a brilliant smile.

“What?”

“I am going to leave, and I implore for you to do only one thing.”

“Oh? Only one?”

He ignores her flippancy, but instead pulls her with him as he stands , until she is close enough to see the exact hues of his eyes.

“You shall stay here and stay smiling. It breaks my heart to see any other expression on your face.”

“You will not be able to see me.” Less of a quip due to the slight quiver in her voice.

“I will know.”

Their breaths catch. The world shrinks. The pair lean close, noses brushing—

“Sophie!” they jerk apart at the sound of Eloise’s call. Sophies eyes are wide and she whirls to try and find an escape.

“We should—”

Benedict leans in, pecks her cheek then steals away. A couple moments later, Eloise appears and slumps in the swing recounting a vexing encounter at the picnic. Sophie joins her, ina  slight daze, hand on her cheek—still smiling.

*~*~*~*

As you can see, I’ve juggled around some bits of dialogue to still hold the romanticism of the scene but without Benedict hounding Sophie, and focusing it on the pair realising just how much they get each other on a deeper level.

A little snippet of more to come :)

I’d love to hear your ideas/corrections/opinions and always open to chat or requests.

Or check out the list here, for more of my ideas.

Or check out the general arcs of my prospective S4 here.

#an offer from an avid reader #an offer from a gentleman #benophie #benedict bridgerton #sophie beckett #fluff amongst angst #i'm sorry for the delay #bridgerton #s4 speculation

[leonbloder]

God's Amazing Grace

I've always struggled to comprehend God's grace, mostly because I struggle to believe that God's grace extends to me.

To be fair, I have no problem sharing with others that God's amazing and never-ending grace is always for them. I believe that with my whole heart.

But when it comes to believing that I am covered in that same grace, I have a hard time with it. This is partly because it's hard to shake the notion of a judgemental and angry God at times, but it's mostly because I know too much about myself.

Many of us have the same kind of struggle. We are quick to believe that God is all about showering other people with grace and that they should be filled with joy because of this fact. But when it comes to ourselves, we don't experience it the same way most of the time.

Novelist and public theologian Marilynne Robinson once wrote:

I experience religious dread whenever I find myself thinking that I know the limits of God's grace, since I am utterly certain it exceeds any imagination a human being might have of it. God does, after all, so love the world.

This quote resonated with me at a profound level. "Religious dread" is an apt way to describe the feeling I get when I struggle to believe that God's grace is big enough to envelop even me.

One of the most impactful things we can learn, if we are willing to learn it, is that even though we are not condemned by God, we tend to preemptively condemn ourselves.

I heard or read this many years ago, and it seems appropriate here: God doesn't send anyone to hell; they choose it.

Now, I could fill a great many Devos with my thoughts on hell, but suffice it to say, I believe that many of us choose to put ourselves through hell right here on earth instead of embracing the grace of God that is ours without condition.

And what does this look like when we struggle to believe God's grace is for us?

When we turn inward, condemning ourselves, it can manifest as depression, anxiety, anger, fear, dread, self-harm, and a host of other nasty things. It steals our joy and can render us bitter and sad.

But if we are willing to embrace for ourselves the truth about God's grace that we believe for others, it can change our lives. It's much easier said than done, but if we learn to practice self-compassion and mindfulness regarding how we view ourselves concerning God, we can take the first step.

Offer yourself forgiveness today when you tell yourself you don't deserve it. Choose to believe that for today, you have all the grace you need. You may have to remind yourself again tomorrow, but that's all right.

You may not deserve the kind of grace God gives freely, but it is yours nonetheless. Accept it. Be joyful.

And may the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with us all, now and forever. Amen.

#presbymusings #dailydevotion #dailydevo #christian living #faith #spiritualgrowth #leon bloder #leonbloder #dailydevotional #spirituality #grace

[carelessannie]

Thunderspider anon here: omegaverse, maybe Thor and Peter meet and have a sort of flirtation happening, but Thor holds back because he thinks Peter is with Tony. He finds out they are not together then... Idk

Sorry this took a minute, sweet Anon! I’ve been in love with Thunderspider the past few weeks and... alright, I hope you like this.

There also might be some more sweet Peter and Thor coming up soon...

Warnings: mmm only for Omegaverse and misunderstandings

---

“So, uh... where did you say you were from again?"

“New Asgard, off the Southern shore of Norway."

Peter hums in interest, “And how did you meet my Alpha?"

“Did he not tell you?"

“... mm, no. I don’t think so."

“We are work partners, and I owe Tony a great debt for assisting in the resettlement of our people."

They’re relatively close on the couch, knees touching, and Thor feels a bit uncomfortable. The boy in front of him is charming, stunning, but sadly, completely unavailable. It apparently doesn’t stop the younger man from leaning closer and resting a hand on Thor’s knee.

Peter's eyes brighten in recognition, “Oh! I didn’t realize that was your country, I’ve heard a bit about it, but I usually don’t get all the details, you know?"

Thor does know. His mother would often complain about being left out of important delegating decisions. So he just reaches down a pats the pretty Omega's hand comfortingly, holding it lightly and enjoying the slight warmth.

Peter blinks up at him and shuffles closer, squeezing Thor’s hand, “You can tell me more about it, if you’d like,” his delicate fingers rub slowly across Thor’s skin, “I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Thor agrees. He already feels lost in those soulful eyes— a silent plea to give this man the world. His scent is alarmingly sweet, addictive. If Thor didn’t know better, he would think that the young Omega was in heat.

But Tony Stark would never let his Omega socialize with other Alphas if that were the case.

“So what do you think, Alpha,” Peter purrs, batting his eyelashes, “wanna take me up on it?"

This feels... wildly inappropriate and suggestive. Thor tries to slide away and avoid the Omega’s advances, but he’s quickly cornered against the arm of the couch with a lap full of Peter.

“Oh... oh, I don’t...”

“Didn’t my Alpha tell you why you’re here, Thor?"

His name sounds like sin coming from those sweet lips, and Peter shifts in a way that has Thor making a very dignified, manly squeak.

“T-to meet his Omega, while he’s away...”

Peter is still squeezing his hand, and uses his other to card a few fingers through Thor’s beard, tilting his head in admiration. “And I thought you agreed? Didn’t my dad fill you in on the details?”

“Your... no,” Thor shakes his head, trying to move the squirmy Omega off his lap, and sighing in frustration when he holds on tight, “No, I haven’t spoken to your father yet.”

“Oh.” Peter pouts, finally letting himself be moved. His perfect skin, porcelain and soft, warps into a frown, and Thor finds himself pulling the Omega closer to pet his hair. He hates seeing such a pretty Omega so sad, and rumbles comfortingly when Peter starts to sniffle. “I’m sorry then. I didn’t know that you didn’t want me.”

Thor feels so confused, but he places a light kiss on the boy’s hair anyways, “I’m sure there’s no one in the world who wouldn’t want you, darling Omega.”

“Then... does that mean you want me, Alpha?"

“It doesn’t matter what I want.”

Peter looks determined, and grabs Thor’s shoulders. “Okay. Let me get my dad, and we can iron things out.”

Oh, gods no. “I don’t think...” Thor tries to protest, but the Omega is up and off the couch in a flash, sprinting out of the room and leaving Thor in a heap of confusion.

He has no idea what Peter’s father will say, but it’s almost certain he’ll refer to the Alpha’s judgment— the judgment of Peter’s mate— before just letting Peter drape himself over another man.

Actually, on second thought, it might be best for Peter’s father to step in.

Standing to his feet, Thor’s surprised when Peter bursts back into the room, smiling timidly, with an annoyed Tony following behind him.

“Okay,” Peter chirps, coming to a stop next to Thor and motioning to Tony, “I brought my daddy. Can you two just talk it out?”

Thor stutters, “D-daddy? I... okay,” he’s definitely heard that term for a partner, but it’s still a surprise, so he turns to Tony, “I don’t... I don’t mean to overstep, Mr. Stark.”

Tony waves him off and turns to look at Peter, “Do you like him, Pete?"

“Yeah, Alpha,” Peter gives him a wink, “I like him a lot. He’s big.”

With a chuckle, Tony loops an arm around Peter, pulling him close. Are they really... are they considering...

“I didn’t think you would be apt to share, Anthony.”

“Share?” Tony and Peter exchange a look, “No, Thor. I don’t share. Was it not clear? Peter would be yours.”

“I think I need a drink.”

Thor sits back down on the couch, rubbing his head where he feels the beginning of a migraine setting in. His? Over all his years, he has never heard of an Alpha just giving away their Omega like this.

As he thinks about it, a spark of rage ignites inside his chest, “What type of Alpha are you, Stark?”

“Excuse me?” Tony’s eyes are wide, and Peter looks offended.

With an amused laugh, Thor gestures between them, “You would just give up your Omega to a random Alpha?”

“... well, not random...”

“I need to talk to his father about this. He should be aware of how careless you’re being with his son.”

There’s a pause. Tony crosses his arms, “Alright, wise ass. Tell me exactly what I should be doing with my son.”

“Dad, I don’t think...” Peter steps in, and it suddenly clicks.

Oh.

By Odin’s fucking beard.

“Peter Stark.”

Peter looks to him, “Yes?”

Oh.

“And your father is...”

“Me.” Tony says, frown deepening, “Who did you think he was?”

Thor sighs, scrubbing his face. “All I knew was that you wanted me to meet your Omega. I had assumed you meant your Omega mate.”

Another pause. And suddenly Peter is exhaling sharply, smiling, and then breaking down into heaving laughter, holding his stomach. Both Thor and Tony smile, enjoying the sweet Omega’s amusement.

“Oh god,” Peter wheezes, wiping tears out of his eyes, “I’m so sorry Thor, you must be so confused, poor Alpha.”

He sinks down onto the couch next to Thor, settling a hand on his shoulder and wiggling closer. Peter still scents so sweet— joyous laughter just adding to his already gentle Omega scent. Thor looks up to Tony for help, and the other Alpha just shakes his head.

“I thought you knew about Western mating procedures, but I shouldn’t have assumed that, so it’s my bad. My invitation— our invitation— was for you to court Peter and, if he chooses you, join him for his first heat.”

Peter ducks his face, hiding it in Thor’s shoulder, while his scent blooms with embarrassment. The young Omega murmurs, “Daddy says you’re the best Alpha for me, and I wanted to see for myself.” His eyes are wide as they peer, beseechingly, up into Thor’s face, “and I like you a ton, Thor. Offer’s still on the table.”

He feels confused still, but Thor’s focus is set dead ahead. He knows what his answer will be before he gives it— this Omega, with all his beauty and complications, has to be his.

“Tell me what I need to do, and it’s yours, Omega.”

At his words, Peter sways a bit, leaning on him fully as his scent shifts, this time more aroused and interested than embarrassed. It’s alluring and Thor can’t look away.

Tony clears his throat, “We were both prepared for you to take him back to New Asgard at the end of the week, if you end up choosing each other as mates. Let’s talk more later— I need to get back to the call Peter yanked me from, and I’ll leave you to... mingle.”

“Dad,” Peter whines, hiding his face again as Tony heads for the exit, leaving the two of them alone in the living room. Thor, at a loss for words, just pets the Omega’s hair, enjoying the soft weight of his body, how easily they fit together.

Peter is easily only a fraction of his size, yet their compatibility is almost flawless. Two pieces of a puzzle, stars circling in the night.

“Are you gonna mate me, Alpha?” Peter whispers. His voice is timid and unsure, and Thor gives him a soft smile, hoping his scent is reassuring as well.

He turns them both so that the Omega can lounge across his chest, making sure his hands are above the generous swell of his ass. Thor takes a deep breath and begins to rumble, coaxing Peter to join him in a steady purr.

It’s been a long time since he’s had an Omega purr for him.

“If you’d like, Peter. It would be my honor to mate you, to be your Alpha.”

“My Alpha,” Peter hums, closing his eyes and snuggling further into Thor’s arms, “I’d like that a lot.”

Thor can’t help but agree.

#thunderspider #thor x peter #peter x thor #fanfic #ask annie #omegaverse #misunderstandings #alpha thor #omega peter parker #alpha tony stark #implied daddy k*nk #THEY ARE SO SOFT TOGETHER #okay okay enough rant #fluff #rare pair

[jaigeye]

DEATH & DYING: Mandalorian Funerary Practices, Burial, Remembrance & Grieving

"Mando'ade usually bury in mass graves anyway. We all become part of the manda. We don't need a headstone." /  "Collective consciousness. Oversoul. We don't do heaven." ―Mirta Gev 

In ancient Mandalorian religion: “Arasuum is the god of decadence and idle consumption, battled in the creation myth in the War of Life and Death by Kad Ha’rangir, the destroyer god of change and growth, a force of creative destruction. If to live is to adapt, then something that remains forever, eternal, must be constantly adapting, never stagnating. To remain the same is to perish.”

Metaphysical Understanding of Life & Afterlife

Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la:   “Not gone, merely marching far away.” - (Tribute to a dead comrade.)

This struggle between idleness and change was reflected in the ancient Mandalorian belief in the afterlife: existing as a plane of spiritual energy in constant conflict between stagnation and growth, every Mandalorian who perished was believed to join the army of the afterlife, defending their families that dwelled in the eternal, peaceful homestead. Mandalorians believed that this home beyond death was the only place they could truly reach a non-transitory existence. 

The ancient gods were largely forgotten in contemporary times. 

The concept of a literal afterlife waned, in favor of a belief in the Manda. The Manda was described as an oversoul, a collective consciousness, and the very essence of being Mandalorian. 

To join with the Manda after death, a Mandalorian was required to be knowledgeable of their culture, and practice its tenets in their daily lives.

Practices:  Funeral rites, Burial, & Cremation

Cremation: 

The Mandalorian "kote kyr'am" or glory death was an event where Mandalorians honor their fallen warriors who died facing Jedi, or impossible odds. 

This was done to ensure that their warrior’s spirit may join their ancestors. The body was burned on an elevated pyre.

Clan members would shout war-cries to the sky, and speak loudly of the dead’s great feats in life. This goodbye ceremony was a night of mournful celebration; drunken feasting, and brawling, was common. Telling stories about the deceased’s life was important. 

It doesn’t matter what side a Mandalorian was fighting on, friend or foe; if one died in battle, they were due a warrior’s funeral. 

Ashes are scattered & not kept.

Burial: 

Mandalorians are pragmatic people. On Mandalore, most Mandalorians were buried as simply as possible within mass graves that had no markers. 

Private, single-plot burials for the dead are uncommon. 

Exceptions and Outliers: 

Among nomadic communities of Mandalorians, those currently fighting a war, or those who live on planets unsuitable to the practice of mass burial, cremation may be the accepted burial method even if one did not die in battle. Sustaining a cemetery and transporting corpses en masse can present a great challenge.

Some highly placed individuals, such as Mand'alor, were offered the option of having a marked grave.

Boba Fett wished to just set the Slave I on autopilot and allow the vessel, carrying his body, to drift in space. After removing his father's remains from Geonosis, Boba Fett buried them on Mandalore.

A notable exception:  “The helmet [of Fenn Shysa] was all he’d brought back. It was an apt memorial for a populist leader, to be commemorated in the same way as any ordinary Mandalorian.”  - His helmet was displayed on a pedestal.

Philosophical Understanding of Death, Grieving & Remembrance

Philosophy:

Death is another step in the process of life. For those left behind, it offers the chance for change, growth, and adaptation to life without your loved one. For the dead, it is but another step in the path.

Remembrance: 

"The armor I wear is five hundred years old. I reforged it to my liking, but the battles, the history, the blood all lives within it. And the same goes for every Mandalorian." "This armor is part of our identity. It makes us Mandalorians who we are." ―Sabine and Alrich Wren

The dead’s possessions, often their armor, are kept in memorial. If a full set of armor  couldn't be recovered, it was commonplace to retrieve smaller parts such as helmets, gloves, or plates instead.

Beskar’gam is passed down bilineally.  (A bilineal system is one in which two lines of descent, matrilineal and patrilineal, are both socially significant.)

Possessions have value. Jedi may value the metaphysical qualities of the universe, but Mandalorians see the physical as significant. The armor is a part of you. To pass down a part of you is a way to live on forever. 

Even if the Beskar itself is melted down and reforged, the metal itself does not lose the power of its inheritance. 

Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum. “I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal.” [Followed by repetition of loved ones' names.]

It was a Mandalorian custom to recite the names of loved ones and friends who have passed each night before sleep. This was a means of keeping their memory alive. 

The uncertainty of life meant that most Mandalorians celebrated the time they had at every opportunity, taking part in communal singing, drinking, and enjoying time with family. 

The concept of aay'han was a Mandalorian term that encompassed the joy of time spent with loved ones while remembering those who were no longer among the living, relatively similar to the Basic term "bittersweet".

Headcanons & Conclusions 

Death is not demeaning - is not shameful. 

Despair is something one must look in the eye.

In death, you become one with the masses. Whether cremated or buried in a mass plot, you become nameless, faceless. You don’t get a “Here lies...a good mother and friend..”. This is part of the point. 

By giving descendants your Beskar, you will be remembered as a protector. They will be safe, thanks partially to you. This is enough.

The meaning of life is that it ends. Death is a creative motivator. What better way to avoid stagnation than to live while you can?

The living may get a tattoo or engrave a symbol on their Beskar that was important to the deceased, to remember them by.

The Mass Graves might be something more akin to an underground catacomb, so more can be added over time.

Children are buried with the same gravity and respect as Mand’alors and war heroes.

Death is known. It is respected and known as an arduous mental, physical, and emotional process, both for those who succumb to it and those left to remember. Among Mandalorians-- to whom arasuum, the act of never adapting, is a sort of spiritual death-- physical death is not the end, only another part of growing and changing. 

- Any Mandalorian would be perfectly willing to ask, and be asked, what their own wishes for death are. Depending on their clan, home planet (or lack of) and condition of their life, they may prefer a certain type of burial or have specific requests. It’s not embarrassing or scary. 

- Mandalorians do not swaddle the grieving in their sadness. They are allowed to feel it powerfully, vividly, but they are also given tasks-- expectations -- rituals and practices to follow, so they might find a sense of purpose in death.

- They do not believe in the practice of beautifying a body for viewing. The mere idea of modern American standards of burial being applied to Mandalorian corpses would most likely be seen as deeply sacrilegious! Using embalming methods and protective caskets would be seen as a futile attempt to ignore the reality- it would be seen as an act of avoidance.

- Mandalorian clans often gather around the dead to wash, dress, and speak to them before they are taken away to be buried or cremated. This process can take anywhere from hours to weeks.  (Corpses are not an inherent health threat. They would know this.) Spending time with the body is powerful and helps to process grief. They do not see the body as a cursed, diseased object, but a vessel that once held their loved one. 

People spend time with their mothers, their brothers in war, their children. One might spend time brushing the deceased’s hair, telling them stories.

Sociologically, Mandalorians are staunch believers in the idea that it takes a village to raise a child. They take it quite literally. A neighbor, clan member or acquaintances death may be taken just as seriously as the loss of a very close loved one.

On the war-torn planet of Mandalore, where even before the purges the unwelcoming, life-resistant desert overtook the landscape, the only places with much lush greenery are the areas that are fertilized by the mass graves of Mandalorian people. These places are regarded with gratitude and to damage them or wage fights in them is seen as an unforgivable act. Death can be restorative. 

(anything above headcanons & conclusions is canon, all below is my own interpretation)

material i reference here: 

Legacy of the Force: Sacrifice

Legacy of the Force: Revelation

Star Wars: The Old Republic: Knights of the Fallen Empire

General EU/SW Legends

Wookiepedia 

Caitlin Doughty, From Here to Eternity: Traveling the World to Find the Good Death

Caitlin Doughty, Smoke Gets in Your Eyes & Other Lessons from the Crematory

#death tw #dying tw #funeral tw #burial tw #cremation tw #hi. #sw meta #mandalorians #the mandalorian #mandalorian culture #i want to be clear i just love this topic!!!! #i did NOT glean any of this information from any other existing cultures #i'd like to note however that the funeral pyre - which i picked up straight from #existing mando lore -- derives from viking..roman...hindu..and sikh burial practices #also among jains and buddhists. #anything above the headcanons and conclusions comes straight from canon #but id be happy to edit if theres something harmful either in my interpretation #or in canon notes that would be better left unmentioned altered or rephrased #this is mostly just me going wild about my interest in star wars + mandos + death LOL #but yes. enjoy. thank you #babygirl i will subject you to my interests #watch this get 3 notes like queen your interests are scaring the hoes

[lesbiansforboromir]

Let me tell you all about a very personally satisfying HC I have that, whilst perhaps explaining some things within the books, is really just for my own enjoyment. 

So, the idea originates in the concept that everyone in the Dol Amrothian line are very spooky. The close elven lineage and living near an old abandoned elven haven had particularly mysterious effects on the whole family. Sure there are Dunadain in Gondor and they can develop certain spooky traits, but the Lords of Dol Amroth start out spooky and usually stay that way. It goes up and down depending on the individual, but generally they are all uncanny at the very least.

Denethor can see into the hearts of men, yeah ok cool I guess. Imrahil goes down to the Dol Amroth harbour at dusk and whispers to the swans until midnight, he answers questions you were sure you did not say out loud, he can make you weep with genuine grief over a sadness he hasn’t even mentioned. Speaking with Finduilas sometimes makes you feel like time passes in an instant, or incredibly slowly, or not at all... except no... really... how much time has passed? Wasn’t it just morning? How is the sun setting already? Or, oh my gosh, I’m going to be late! Or... not..? it’s barely been a few moments, yet I feel like I just lived a lifetime...

Ivriniel insists this is all nonsense, doggedly, she refuses to acknowledge it, no matter how many political rivals raise her considerable ire and come down with a mysterious and debilitating illness the next day. Grandmother Duilindes is just straight up a witch. ‘It’s all for the honour of Eru’ she says placatingly, as she enters her rooms in the Palace that she forbids anyone else from entering.

Denethor had heard these rumours before meeting Finduilas and, sure, he sometimes feels like he is being hunted, only to turn and find Adrahil’s eyes on him. But Dunadain are just a little strange like that! Surely it’s been blown out of proportion. He believes this up until he comes to Dol Amroth as Finduilas’ suitor. 

Denethor: Shall we take a walk after dinner? Everyone looks up from their plates in alarm Adrahil: Are you joking? Denethor: ??? Imrahil: It's the seventh day! The gardens aren't to be disturbed! Denethor, whispering to Finduilas: What does that mean?? Finduilas, chuckling: oh, Denethor! 

He sees Imrahil whispering to the swans at one point and is about to call out to him before Finduilas quickly gestures him silent.

Denethor, whispered: What is he doing? Finduilas: Shh, if the swans hear us we'll surely be attacked. Denethor: But then shouldn't Imrah- Finduilas: SHH.

One evening Ivriniel sweeps in with a stormy countenance, muttering over Lord Garahel’s stupidity. The next morning Denethor hears Imrahil mention that Lord Garahel has been taken ill with some fainting sickness. The look he gives Ivriniel is enough for her to know his mind. 

Ivriniel: Your imagination will run wild Denethor, I had thought you more reasonable. You think I, what? Cursed him? Don’t be ridiculous. Denethor, turning to Finduilas: Do you think... she knows she's doing it? Finduilas: Oh no, in fact she's determined to remain ignorant to it. Denethor: Can you... do that? Finduilas: I havent tried :)

At some point Finduilas had told Denethor that ‘Imrahil is the odd one of the family’ and by the end of the visit all Denethor can think is ‘by what metric??’

Denethor had to admit to himself privately that he was not at all put off by Finduilas’ nature, but he did have cause to worry what their children would be like. Finduilas came across Denethor, early after Boromir’s birth, rocking him to sleep and murmuring softly; 'I may have my failings as a father, I am sure I shall, but I swear they will be honestly meant, I love you so dearly my son... please do not curse me when you are older and I do not allow you everything you ask. I promise I only ever have your wellness in mind.' And she thought it was very sweet and proper, but she didn’t tell him he was wrong! And for very good reason! 

Boromir was an unnerving child. He learned to speak just a little too quickly, and when he did he would often say uncanny things, too knowing things, indecipherable things that became daunting the longer you thought about them. He had such a powerful grasp of complex feeling that he would often solve arguments between adults, explain emotions back at his parents or offer reasons for another child’s behaviour that were so accurate it became uncomfortable. 

3yo Boromir: (explains the reason Denethor’s secretary was distracted that day unprompted) Finduilas: (laughs) yes that's right! Denethor: It's.... TOO right. Finduilas: Oh well children are intuitive aren't they? Denethor, picking Boromir up: ... I feel under qualified to teach you things. Boromir: (baby-giggles but in a like way too knowing way)

And then sometimes Denethor would be sitting reading on a bench on a balcony in the early evening with Boromir contentedly playing with a fiddle-toy beside him, and suddenly his son’s voice would break the silence with; 'When I wasn't here I was colder, so I think I like it here, I'll stay. The air isn't as delicious but there's more to see.'

And then he’d go back to playing as though nothing was wrong whilst Denethor had an existential crisis. 

Denethor: W.. where were you, before? Boromir: Well I didn't know, because I couldn't know, but now I can know things, just not that. I haven't decided if I like it.

He asks Finduilas about it as soon as he can find her and she just laughs, ‘don't worry he'll forget he knows that in a few years’ she says, as though that helps at all.

But in general this is as far as Boromir ventures into the ‘spooky Dol Amroth’ territory. Sometimes he mentions things he CHOSE NOT to do that suggests he is capable of more, but other than randomly forcing Denethor to consider his position in the universe and reading him for shit, the first five years of being a parent is fine for Denethor.

At one point, when Boromir was about two, someone asked Finduilas if they were planning for another baby soon. Finduilas laughed ruefully, as though everyone would know that was a foolish question. ‘Oh no, much too soon for that’ she said. Denethor knew he had to follow up on what the hell that meant later. But when asked, all Finduilas said was ‘Oh you know! If siblings are born too close then they align their powers. Haven’t you heard my father talk about my uncles?’ She says it with the same tone as reading something out of a parenting manual. Denethor doesn’t want to hear about Finduilas’ uncles, but accepts this is important and stops thinking about it.

And it’s a good thing they did wait because, whilst Boromir was unnerving, Faramir is straight up terrifying.

What Denethor realised was that Boromir had been showing restraint. Faramir however was very comfortable with his powers and saw no reason not to use them. Denethor would find himself lost in baby Faramir’s eyes, feeling unable to move simply because of the weight of his stare. Finduilas and Boromir would have to save him from Faramir’s grasp, an act that would make Faramir look very put out. 

If people irritated Denethor when he was holding his youngest son, then just a glance from this child would make them drop whatever they were holding, Faramir grinning victoriously all the while. If Faramir did not want to take a bath then Finduilas would have to be present in case the baby decided to make Denethor relive his entire childhood. 

Sometimes Denethor would come outside to see his toddler just surrounded by the street cats of Minas Tirith, conducting some kind of incomprehensible tribunal that all the cats appeared to abide by. At one point Boromir was holding Faramir when Faramir grasped his brother’s face and pulled so that their eyes locked. Boromir passively held Faramir’s intense gaze for a while in this charged and tense moment, before calmly looking away as Faramir pouted. Denethor once again begged Finduilas to explain, but all she had to give was a fond sigh and a ‘Aw, Faramir just wants to get to know him, but our Boromir is too canny, Ivriniel and I used to do that.’ Denethor is used to helpless bemusement and concern by now. 

Now the SECOND part to this HC- YES I’M STILL GOING, THIS IS ALL IMPORTANT- the second part is that Dol Amrothians ALSO get a kind of ‘choice’. (This is likely not at all canon friendly tbh but uwu I can have a leetle canon noncompliance if it doesn’t effect the vast expansive canon... as a treat) It is far more unconscious and happens in childhood, but there is a point where a child will ‘decide’ to continue being spooky or to be more mundane. This never overrides ALL the spookiness, hence Ivriniel’s intermittent cursing and Finduilas’ occasional time dilation, but Imrahil still out spooks the lot of them. Amongst the family this is known as ‘settling’.

Boromir settles when he is eight. One day he comes to breakfast and Denethor looks into his son’s face and feels like he is suddenly more in the world, more in the moment. Boromir seems as himself as ever, but he makes friends easier afterwards. Whereas he had always been liked, now he is popular and has close relationships with children, rather than always seeming too distant. This also coincides with one of Gandalf’s rare visits. He had been trying to connect with Boromir, trying to engage him on very specific topics. Boromir had not been amused. 

Denethor would never say that Boromir hating Gandalf’s vibes was the reason he settled for mundanity. Boromir had many good reasons, he is sure. But the fact that he chose that moment to settle, so that Denethor was allowed to watch Gandalf also realise that Boromir was no longer ‘apt to his hand’, well he might have gleaned some little pleasure from it. 

The only aspect Boromir retains is his general resistance to such spookiness. Hence his frustration in both Rivendell and Lothlorien, the time distortion of those places not effecting him and the imposed rest not touching him, meaning he feels every passing day keenly. It also explains his resistance towards the Balrog’s doomful presence, as well as his heightened distress at Galadriel’s ability to see into his mind, where he had always been able to defend himself before. 

Faramir on the other hand is seven when he settles, thoroughly content with his spooky powers and wanting even more command over them. It is with this settling that he becomes able to sometimes cause people pain for lying to him. Denethor... struggles as a single father for many reasons.

#erran vs tolkien #denethor #finduilas #imrahil #boromir #faramir #tolkien #lotr #urrr this isn't meta um... #it'll go into #soap operas in mannish sindarin #anyway #because it's fun #text post #long post

[captaincravatthecapricious]

Getaway

The trip to Scotland.

cw nausea and vomiting but no details I promise, fainting I think?  I don't really remember, dizziness, food mentions, let me know if I need to add something more I haven't looked at this chapter in a while and I a posting in a rush.

Martin’s hand is damp in his.  The same tacky, salty grit of the Lonely fog.  A little bit of fog trapped between their tangled fingers, or maybe just the anxious sweat of two people who don’t really know each other as well as they should.  

If Jon is being honest, it’s not a comfortable sort of hand holding, but he doesn’t care.  He will keep clinging to Martin’s hand as if that single point of contact can keep Martin weathered to the physical plane.  

It makes packing more difficult, but Jon doesn’t care.  Not as if he hasn’t been living out of a backpack for months, or anything.  (Longer still if you count living off a shelf before most of his belongings were ruined in the flesh attack).  Still, he stuffs in the few items not in his back, and takes a healthy stack of statements and shoves those in, too.  Probably depressing that he can fit those in a single bag with all his earthly belongings.  

Jon doesn’t feel well.  

He hasn’t felt well in a while.  But the exhaustion is getting to him.  Apparently shredding a person with his mind is a bit rough on the body.  Even if the supernatural hunger is more than sated.  

Heh.  The unnatural feeling of being content and full and powerful at the same time as hallow and shakes and weak.  It would be enough to make him dizzy, if he wasn’t already dizzy.  If he hasn’t been dizzy constantly since statements were limited to empty paper, as if he hasn’t been dizzy since his early 20s and his POTS diagnosis.  (And before, but that’s where he was still convinced it was nothing).  

Jon is loathed to let go of Martin’s hand when he starts Daisy’s ancient car.  It’s more than a little beat up.  Jon tries very hard not to remember Mike Crew’s blood in the back seat.  It’s clean now.  Mike’s blood and Jon’s vomit long since scrubbed away.  Nothing quite like being carsick at gunpoint.  

Jon shivers.  

He can’t let himself think about Daisy now.  Such a confusing jumble of anger and fear and sadness and regret and friendship and comradely and resentment.  It’s… it’s too much for him to take in.  

He hasn’t ever been able to reconcile his feelings about Daisy, and now it’s worse.  Worsened with his exhaustion.  They were friends, they were enemies, and he couldn’t give up on her because that would mean that he was also lost.  She hurt him and she loved him in a way.  He couldn’t forgive her and  she was his closest friend for a while.  She was terrible, is terrible, but she was all he had and he loved her for being there.  It’s too much to think about.  And Basira.  Christ, he feels terrible losing Daisy like that, and yes he loved her in a way, but he wasn’t in love with her like Basira is, and he knows the helplessness and emptiness of losing someone he’s in love with.  

He shakes his head roughly.  The bite of headache and way the world sickly twists in and out of focus for a moment distracts him enough to start the car.  He looks over at Martin, pale but solid.  He reaches for Martin’s hand as he drives them to Martin’s flat.  

Jon has to do most of the packing for Martin.  Martin more attached to him than free thinking individual.  Drifting after him, pulled taught by their tethered hands.  A balloon pulled along by the wrist of a small child on a rollercoaster.  Although Jon can’t fault him for that, he thinks that might be an apt description for how he’s feeling.  …Pulled along by unknowable forces beyond his control.  And he’s flapping helplessly in the breeze of a battle far bigger than him.  

No.  Focus.  

Martin.  

Shove clothes and toiletries and tea and books and a few items that Jon judges to look treasured.  A worn stuffed tiger, a few faded pictures, a deck of tarot cards, he even takes the ratty binder that are shoved under the other ones (the nicer ones that Jon has already packed with the essentials), a tattered notebook under a layer of dust, a well loved poetry book, a small box of earrings, and what looks to be Martin’s knitting.  

It’s still a pitifully small amount of luggage for an indefinitely long trip.  The large first aid kit that he found makes him feel a little better.  (Emotionally, but also physically after he downs some paracetamol.  He eyes the dramamine, but he’s going to be driving and he can’t risk getting drowsy.  It’s not like they have time to stop).   

Nausea twists down deep before Jon even starts the car.  Catching at his stomach as he settles Martin’s bags in the back seat.  Still trying to search out the stains that are long gone.  

And oh fuck he killed someone.  

And yeah the bastard deserved it, but Christ he feels sick.  Sitting behind the wheel, staring blankly ahead.  

Martin’s hand in his.  

Martin squeezes his hand.  

Jon squeezes back.  

It’s fine.  He’s fine.  Just… Just drive.  

It’s the next step, and he has always been good at pushing from one step to the next.  Don’t worry about what happens next, just drive.  

Martin is here and… not fine, but alive and whole, and slowly thawing next to him.  

“Hey…”  Jon forces his tight throat and tighter chest to allow the word past.  

They haven’t spoken since Basira told them where to go and gave them a ring of keys.  

This almost shakes Martin out of his stupor.  Almost.  “Hey,” he echos.  

Jon wants to pack so much into a question.  How do you ask everything?  Are you okay?  Do you love me?  Do you know I love you?  Do you need anything?  Are you sure you want to come all this way with me?  Are you okay with moving in with me?  Are you hungry?  If the fog comes for you, will you tell me?  But those are too many words.  Martin starts looking glazed over when there is too much going on.  Too much movement, too many people, too much sound, too many questions.  And Jon wonders if the Lonely only served to magnify this, and if so, did he notice?  Did Martin hide it well?  Did Jon make it worse?  What if he makes it worse now, but what if he makes it worse by not saying anything.  

“You ready?”  This will have to be enough.  

Martin nods, apparently not noticing the pause.  

Jon tries not to jump out of his skin when Martin starts rubbing circles on Jon’s hand.  It’s surprising, but it feels nice.  

More than nice.  

Jon starts the car.  

It’s chilly.  Late September.  And it’s getting dark.  Both in that the sun is going down, and in that storm clouds are gathering.  

Jon knows they can’t stop for the night.  

He just has to get them to Scotland.  Hopefully then it will all be okay.  

They stop at a service station just out of the city.  Jon gets a black coffee.  He buys Martin a tea and a sandwich.  

He knows the coffee won’t do his stomach any favors, and will more likely than not set his heart to hammering, but it will be worth it not to fall asleep at the wheel.  

He can’t let Martin drive until Martin looks like less like a space cadet.  

But Jon hopes the tea brings color back to Martin’s face, even if he can’t quite tell in the sickly light of the service station, or the dim light of the evening as Jon tops up the petrol.  

Highway before and behind, and Jon is throwing up.  Pulled to the wrong side of the road in the dark and the rain.  Trembling as Martin rubs his back and gently pulls back his hair.  

They aren’t even halfway there.  His heart is beating too quickly.  Anxiety?  Caffeine?  POTS?  Nausea?  Who’s to say.  But Jon is miserable, but there isn’t much choice, because being a passenger will make it worse, even if that would mean he could take some medicine.  But Martin is in not fit state to drive.  And Martin must know that, because for all his soothing, he doesn’t offer to drive.  Or he almost offers, but Jon can see the thought die on his lips.  Besides, Jon is fairly certain Martin can’t drive a manual transmission car.  Not that Jon is particularly good at it, and stalled the engine twice leaving London.  

The occasional car and lorry thunders past.  On the side of the road, Jon can feel their movement in his core.  He worries how he will get them safely back on the road, as he spits in the dirt.  

“Sorry.  Let’s go,” he mumbles his embarrassment to Martin.  

He tries to ignore the pitying look that Martin has fixed on him.  

“Sure we can’t stop?”  

Jon shakes his head, and the dizziness threatens to take him down.  He sags against Martin for a moment.  “Can’t risk it.  Perils of being on the run, I’m afraid.”  

Martin frowns at him.  

“I’m fine.  Just… tired and… well, carsick.  We’ll be there by morning.”

“Yeah and the fact that you basically collapsed against me is something I’m just supposed to ignore?”  

Jon waves him off.  

The brief conversation seems to have stolen all of Martin’s words.  He quietly gets back in the car, and Jon shudders and sways without Martin’s warm bulk holding him up.  

He starts the car, and takes Martin’s hand.  

Just a few more hours.  Then they can rest.  

#the magnus archives #fic #tma #jonathan sims #cane user jon #trans martin blackwood #martin blackwood #the dinghy #jmart #jonmartin #jon has pots #cw anxiety #cw nausea #cw vomiting

[bailey-reaper]

So I want to preface this by saying that I know nothing about music or what certain music instruments symbolize or anything, but I want to talk about Barok's character theme.

I really like it because of several different impressions it gives.

See when I first listened to it, I thought, "Oooh spoooky theme! Fitting for the Reaper of the Bailey!" Especially with what I think is an organ playing the almost classic scary, "Dracula"-esque theme. So I thought it was just a spooky song at first.

But after listening a few more times as I got into the games, I started noticing that after the first initial "spookiness", the theme seems to change slightly. While it still has an intimidating air to it, it sounds like it's more refined and proper, if those are correct terms for it. Like this is a noble, someone deserving of respect.

And as I listened to it more, then I noticed it seems to almost sound sad the deeper you get into his theme. A bit "melancholy but still determined to go on" kind of feeling. All in all I think this theme says "There's more here than at first glance."

Or at least that's what it says to me.

I think your analysis is very apt – the fact that you aren't someone who has a musical background is just as valuable as someone who does, because the way the song resonates with you means the composer has managed to convey something that doesn't require specialist knowledge.

You might be right that someone with a background in such things will pick up other nuances, but the fact the song conveys so much to you just through its sound and pacing goes to show what a great theme it is!

Just in case you're interested: @beevean did a great analysis of the song, too! You can find that here.

#ModChat

[anxiousstark]

All that’s left

KO-FI | BIG MASTERLIST | 

I normally only read related to Chris Evans and his characters, but here we are.

Word count: 1909

Warnings: Mentions of  injuries, blood, swearing (always), death, etc.

↪ PLEASE RESPECT MY WORK. DON’T COPY, TRANSLATE OR CLAIM THEM AS YOURS. NOT ON THIS WEBSITE OR ANOTHER. ALL RIGHTS ARE RESERVED.

All the things you went through could not be compared to the last battle of your life, the one where to save an entire world, numerous people you deeply loved had gradually lost theirs.

It was a terrifying feeling, observing the bright light in their eyes fade away while their eyelids drooped until there was no more energy to keep them open. The guttural voices were stuck in your head as their mouths opened and closed several times. The way they attempted to swallow, believing that the action would let them say their last words. Some got to announce their latest wishes or goodbyes, others weren't so fortunate, gagging on their blood.

Everyone knew that this last war would bring grief, guilt and trauma. And even though everyone knew that some people would inevitably be left behind, they also deeply hoped for them to survive. But perhaps, it was too much to ask for the universe or whoever was up there.

Natasha Romanoff, also known as Black Widow. She was probably one of those people you couldn't help but end up loving like an older sister. She tried to maintain that witty, cold facade to avoid people from deceiving her. Nevertheless, you always thought that she didn't need to maintain an image. Everyone knew how great Natasha Romanoff was.

Deep inside, every one of the Avengers knew that they would lose her. Nat had been a woman with a tough childhood and life. She was someone who believed and claimed not to have a family. Of course, all of this, before she became part of the Avengers. A group of people who would have given their lives for her. However, she was the one who gave up her life.

You sometimes glimpsed at Clint when he was in the compound, staring at the space Nathasa always preferred. It was her seat, her place. An empty one.

You had cried. You had mourned when Clint had come back, swearing he had tried to save her. You knew he had. Everyone knew. But they also knew how Natasha's mind worked. They knew she would sacrifice herself for Clint, one of the closest Avengers to her, and the one who had a wife and children waiting at home.

Notwithstanding, there was a big pain in your heart. You hoped that she felt loved, that she knew that every one of the Avengers had lost a piece of soul and brightness as soon as they understood she was never coming back.

That night, it was Steve Rogers who held you tightly even if his heart was as broken as yours, or even more. His fingers had intertwined with the locks of your hair as he shushed you while his body rocked your own one. If only that was the only sadness you would have to go through.

Not long after Natasha passed away, Tony Stark had sacrificed his life for those he loved. At that time, everything was over. The war with Thanos was over. But, another war invaded everyone. The internal war of dealing with the death of Tony Stark.

How unfair, right? The joker, the one who always tried his best to cheer others up even if it was with sarcastic comments. The one who seemed the brightest was leaving certain darkness in everyone's hearts.

You never expected to see Tony sitting down against ruins as he tried to say his last words to the woman of his life. God, Morgan was just a child and she was back home, of course. Pepper would have to tell the little girl that her dad wouldn't be coming back. Ever.

Tony fought, he fought to stay in this world for a couple of minutes more. He had expressed his everlasting love to Pepper, telling her to remind Morgan of how much he loved her and how she was his salvation. Tony had hugged Peter, repeating over and over again that he believed in him. He was proud of the teenager. Parker would just cry while nodding his head. And then, Tony peeped at you. He wanted to offer you a smile, but the pain was too much for that. The Tony Stark legacy was yours too, and he had pleaded for you to teach Morgan everything you knew. Everything he had taught you.

And as soon as the last flick of life left his eyes, everyone was kneeling on the ground. Steve was beside you, clutching your hand tightly as you sobbed.

Tony Stark was the one who rescued you a couple of years ago. You were someone lost in life. Too young to have all of those horrible thoughts invading your mind. He had just decided to take you in and show you all the potential you had. That's when you started working alongside Tony and Bruce, after learning everything from them.

Before his funeral, you sat next to Pepper and Morgan as Tony had prepared a hologram. You had chuckled because Tony had to leave in a big way.

He looked so real. He looked as if he was sitting down on that chair. And sometimes, it seemed like he could actually look at all of you. Of course, all of this was just what it looked like.

"Then again, that's the hero gig, right?" His eyes seemed to shift from Pepper to you. "Part of the journey is the end." You felt Morgan getting closer to your body. "What am I even tripping for?" Your hand softly rested on her back as Tony got up from his seat. "Everything is gonna work out," He was standing in front of the three of you. "Exactly like it's supposed to." His eyes seemed to find the ones of the little girl. "I love you 3,000." Then, he just vanished, once again.

The day of the funeral was horrible, everyone cried because Tony Stark was deeply loved. Because everything that happened was proof that Tony Stark had a heart.

However, if we talked about the present, your heart ached as much as your legs. Your heart throbbed because Steve had left a letter on your door, letting you know that he was going to return the stones to the same moment where he got them. Steve was leaving. Perhaps not to come back.

And your legs ached because you were running to the only place where you knew he could be right now. In the distance, you could recognise Bruce, Sam and Bucky. The Captain was getting on the platform, his suit changing from the usual one to red and white. "Steve!" You continued running, not thinking you will arrive on time. Steve made a gesture, begging Bruce to continue with the process. "Steve! Please!" Tears started running down your cheeks.

"Going Quantum," Bruce informed. "Three,"

"Steve, I swear to god I will kill you!" You tried to run faster, but your legs gave up as you fell to the ground. "Steve Rogers, I swear to god!" You screamed once again, getting up and ignoring the mud stuck to your cheeks due to your tears.

"Two..." Sam and Bucky looked between the both of you. The Falcon was pained to see you in that situation as much as Bucky. Both of them were your friends. And both of them had noticed the longing gazes you directed towards their other friend.

"STEVE!" You were now closer to Bruce, quickly stopping the machine. "Don't you dare to turn it on." Your finger accusingly pointed at Banner, who nodded, a little frightened of how angry you were.

"Y/N," A firm voice sounded. "I need to get back and put these stones where they bel-."

"Who are you trying to lie to?" Your voice cracked. "You are going back to the past and you will not return." You shook your head. "And that's not fair on Sam because he had started to like you and he considers you his friend now, right?" I glanced at Sam, who bit his lower lip and nodded. "That's not fair on Bucky! He has always been there for you and you are just going to leave him? You can't just leave him, Steve!" Bucky sighed, glancing at the floor. "We just lost a lot of people we profoundly loved. It is unfair that you make us go through that once again because-."

"Breathe." He interrupted me. "This isn't my place anymore."

You yelled, trying to get rid of some of the anger invading your body. "You, Steve Rogers, are the biggest liar ever!" He furrowed his eyebrows, sighing and letting you go on. "You gotta move on," You repeated those words. The words he had told a group of people who were trying to get through the losses of the blip. "You gotta move on. The world is in our hands. It's left to us, guys. And we gotta do something with it." You were now sobbing harder. "O-otherwise..."

"I'm sorry," He whispered. "But, this life is no longer for me, Y/N." He glanced at Bruce, then back at you. "I wish I didn't have to do this."

"Nothing is making you go back!" You cried. "You can return the stones then come back to us and-." You gasped. "Steve, I know I'm selfish for saying this but please, don't go back to her-."

"Y/N," His voice was firmer this time. "I have nothing to do here, okay? Believe me. Yes, I will have to leave you all, but that's a price I must pay. You knew I always felt like this was not my world. Everything was always too strange for me." He sighed. "Don't get me wrong, I love you all. Especially, you. I love you. But I'm not the one you deserve." Tears fell down his cheeks. "Take care."

Before you could say anything more, he disappeared. You glanced at Bruce, glaring at him for listening to Steve and then, you got on the platform, screaming with all your strength. "That's for me to decide, Steve Rogers! That's for me to decide!" You recovered as soon as possible, running towards Bruce after noticing that Steve wasn't back yet. "Bring him! Bring him back!" Bucky walked closer to you, resting a hand on your shoulder as you continued crying. "How long until he comes back?"

Sam glanced at the other two men, sighing. "He isn't coming back." He coughed. His voice cracking. "Steve isn't coming back."

"He believes he isn't apt for this world." Before you could answer, Bucky interrupted you. "I know, it sounds stupid. But he truly felt like that." He shuffled closer to you. "He didn't go back to Peggy. Believe me."

"Then why?"

"Because he believed he wasn't enough for you." Sam stepped forward. "We tried to let him know that he was. But he said that he was never able to be there for you as much as he wanted to." He was always there. "He went back to safety. To the world, he knew. A world without," He glanced around. "All of this."

"A world without me." There was no reason to justify his actions, even if you wanted to. "So... this is all that's left."

"Not all." Bucky placed a tiny box on your hand. "He would probably kill me if he knew I gave you this. But I think you deserve to know. You deserve to...just...open it."

A ring. There was a ring with both of your names. A wedding ring.

#Chris Evans #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans one shot #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x ofc #chris evans x you #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x stark!reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers oneshot #marvel x you #marvel x y/n #marvel x reader #marvel imagines #endgame #avengers endgame

[luna-the-moth]

Tainted Elysium(SFW)

Hello dear! Ohoho, I love this prompt, you have no idea! I’m so sorry if you wanted this in hc/scenario form, but the story potential for this was just Screaming at me- Also, this follows my hc that the Celestial Realm is corrupt (Pointedly looks at the angel event)

As the request says, there will be a character death.

Word count: 1.7k

Reblogs, likes, and comments are lovely to see!

Satan with a Reincarnated Angel! Reader. SFW! With a GN! reader.

Requests are open, but please read my rules and guidelines before reading!

~~~~~~~~~~~

How could this happen?

Falling onto his knees, Satan watched, helpless as your limp body sat lifelessly in the pentagram. Your eyes were wide, shock still ever-present on your features, a last reminder of your death.

He brought himself onto his feet, kneeling beside you, tears dripping onto your cold, lifeless skin. Your body was still warm, although your face had been drained of any remaining sign of life, similar to a mannequin.

This isn’t how he planned things to go, no- You were supposed to become immortal through the ritual, not die. Solomon had said this was one of the safest routes to immortality.

Mind spiraling, Satan gripped his head between his hands, trying to grasp any last shreds of his control. He couldn’t lose is composure. No, he had worked too hard to repress himself, he can’t lose it now.

“Perfect, the ritual has been completed and seems to be successful. Now we just need to wait.” Solomon mused smugly, pleased with his work.

Snapping his head to the sorcerer, Satan’s eyes held a sea of emotions. Disbelief, shock, betrayal, and wrath. Pure, unpolished wrath, in it’s rawest, most carnal form.

“Successful? Successful? They just died, and you say the ritual has been successful? You had sworn that they would become immortal, Solomon.”

His facade was crumbling down as he spoke flames of green and black peeking between his form, the demonic form he despised was coming loose. With a roar, his body expanded, clothes being torn to shreds as an equestrian form stood proudly where a demon once stood.

Charging at the sorcerer, Satan’s jaw opened, a maelstrom of green flames bursting from his mouth, swirling in a cyclone of hellish fire. After that, Satan’s mind blacked out, completely losing control over his grief.

All that he could remember, was the body of his lover fading into white butterflies behind the sorcerer, a white glow taking over your body.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Satan doesn’t remember how long it’s been since you’ve died.

Don’t get him wrong, he isn’t going to be completely hung up in mourning for  your death as long as he lives, but there are times he’ll see pieces of you. Those are the moments the grief will come rushing back.

In certain lines of poetry, ones you had always asked him to read at night.

The cat cafe in the human world, where you would always end up taking dozens of pictures of him, letting him unabashedly show his adoration for the creatures.

But the memory that hurt most of all, was your wit, charm, and intelligence. Smiling, he fondly remembered the way your eyes would gleam when discussing flower symbolism, or demonic history you had learned of in the human world.

You would ramble on for hours, passionate and lively, something Satan greatly admired. You were unapologetically yourself around him, no mask, and no tricks to convince him of otherwise.

Now, he would stop by your gradually crumbling tombstone every year, placing a bouquet of flowers on your grave, along with a bundle of cherry blossoms. They were one of your favorites, and he smiled as he reminisced about your love of the aromatic flora.

However, today was different. Your grave wasn’t there, instead, an angel. Near your gravestone, was an angel, bathed in a heavenly glow, halo shining brightly. Beside the angel, was a young child, a mortal soul, recently deceased.

As the little boy grabbed your hand, Satan’s eyes widened, seeing your face. Nearly dropping the bouquet, he softly placed a hand over his mouth, disbelief and shock clouding his mind.

So this is what Solomon had meant by immortal. You really were immortal, but not in the way he had thought.

Seeing you in silver armor, white cape flowing down your back, it was almost surreal. Your eyes had taken on a white ring, glowing around your irises, brighter than the stars themselves.

Satan hadn’t spent much time in the Celestial Realm, besides the time he had been a part of Lucifer’s subconscious. There had been scriptures in the human world of beautiful, ethereal angels, along with their interpretations of their true forms.

Yet in Satan’s eyes, angels were repulsive creatures. Arrogant, with a twisted sense of justice. Blindingly bright, they were merely demons, masquerading themselves as helpers, and merciful beings. Pathetic excuses for angels.

Seeing his lover become an angel? It made his blood boil. They had taken you, and tainted you. Bleaching you with their morals, molding you into another animatronic being, just another slave to their sick minds

Stepping forward, Satan took a leap of faith to see if you recognized him, and whether or not you would attack him. If there was a shred of you left, even a flicker of memory, there was a chance he could help you see the truth.

However, when within a few steps of approaching, you whirled around, eyes blazing. With a flash of light, you drew out a spear, immediately lunging toward him, blade tilting his chin up.

“Hello Y/n, it’s a pleasure to see you again, my dear.”

Leering, you asked,

“What business do you have with me, Angel of Mercy, wretched demon? Have you come to taint this child? To take him, turning his soul into a meal? Or perhaps, a lessor demon?”

At hearing this statement, the child took on an expression of pure fear, immediately flashing away, the ghostly apparition of his soul disappearing. Perhaps another angel would find him again, or a hungry demon.

With nothing but pure disgust and scorn in your eyes, Satan couldn’t help but bark out a bitter laugh. So this is what they’ve done to you? Modeled you after the archangel Raphael, ever so eloquent and haughty. It’s almost as if the heavens were laughing at him as they had altered you.

Fate really is a cruel mistress, isn’t she? Hasn’t he suffered enough, a demon of Wrath? Cast out even among his own brethren, the only true demon amongst fallen angels.

As you glowered down at him, spear nearly piercing his throat, Satan chuckled. How ironic, that his lover would be reformed into a being that Satan loathed, and one who despised him in return.

Of course not, the heavens would always scorn him, and take whatever they could from him. Twisting them into their vision of perfection, mindless slaves with no free will.

Being reincarnated to an angel of mercy as well, added insult to the injury. Your gaze was hardened in a burning hatred. To you, he was nothing but a mere demon, a being of sin, who deserves to be cast out as scum.

Shock evident across your face, your eyes flashed in suspicion as Satan didn’t show signs of hostility, nor wanting to retaliate. But demons were known to be charming and deceptive, especially the Avatars.

Looking at you with mournful, tired eyes, Satan had nearly given up on bringing you back. And now, you were here in front of him. Yet you didn’t even remember his name. A sad smile making it’s way across his features, he couldn’t help but think.

After all he’s done for himself, and to distance himself from his sin; Fate still frowned on him. Born from wrath, forever seen as an uncontrollable beast, no matter how he painted himself, he would always be struck down, time and time again.

You couldn’t help but feel an odd familiarity within those forest green eyes, and carefully lowered your spear, suspicion morphing into curiosity. Why had that name sounded so familiar?

How could a demon be anything other than the vile creatures told about in the Celestial Realm, filthy and deceptive?

However, you had assumed it was him influencing your mind, when in reality, it was quite different. With a burst of light, the spear disappeared from sight, although you were still in a cautious stance, ready to summon it again.

Deciding to make a leap of faith, Satan carefully presented you the bouquet of flowers he had brought with him. Presenting them to you in a non-threatening manner, lest you point your spear at him again.

This year’s bouquet was different; a new arrangement, one that conveyed his yearning, love, and heartbreak. You had loved Victorian flower symbolism, so he saw these as apt choices for flowers. These flowers consisted of:

Pink camellias (Longing for you), red carnations (Alas for my poor heart, my heart aches), pink carnations (I’ll never forget you), red chrysanthemums (I love you),  columbines (Foolishness, folly), gladiolus (Remembrance), and hydrangeas (Gratitude for being understood; frigidity and heartlessness). Accepting these wouldn’t mean you would automatically fall in love again. Hell, you didn’t even have to be friends at the end of the day. Did he expect you to take it and eventually change your mind? No.

But perhaps if you saw the darker side of things, you would have a different perspective on demons and angels. What Satan wanted, was for you to see the truth. The truth about who you were before, and what’s happened to you.

Taking a step back, you stiffen. Unconsciously clenching your hands, swarms of doubt cloud your mind. Was this some sort of trick? Perhaps a plan to sweep you away, an attempt to seduce you?

However, looking at his eyes, you couldn’t deny the genuine tenderness those emerald orbs shone. Your instincts and thoughts clashed against one another, and time seemed to freeze, the two of you stuck in an eternal will-they-won’t-they.

Throughout your exchange with the Avatar, you had been wondering why a demon of his rank would care so much for a human, and felt an odd curiosity about him.

It didn’t make sense, as the dead human’s soul would be in the Devildom or Celestial Realm by now. Why would he bother visiting a soulless grave, with no benefits to reap?

In a decision made of curiosity and unknown futures, you let out a shaky breath. Extending a trembling hand, you gently wrapped your fingers around the bouquet; Quickly bringing it to your chest as your finger brushed Satan’s.

No fireworks appeared, nor did you kiss under the light of day. You didn’t fully believe Satan, and the demon in question was still in shock, finding out about your existence. Your prejudices weren’t magically wiped away; Neither was Satan’s grief.

But it was a start.

#my writing #obey me #obey me angst #obey me fluff #obey me satan #obey me satan x reader #obey me scenario #obey me headcanon #obey me satan x reader angst #obey me fic #obey me x reader

[hellimagines]

It’s Not Your Fault -- JJ Maybank

Masterlist

Summary: For the past three weeks you’ve noticed your boyfriend beginning to pull away from you without any explanation or clear reason. After voicing your concerns to him, JJ breaks down and confesses to you about his delivery trips to the Cameron House. 

Warnings: angst, hurt with lots of comfort, male sexual assault, victim denial of sexual assault, grooming

Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Word Count: 4.5K

A/N: It took me a while to post this, but after all the thought, emotion, and personal experience I poured into this, I’m finally satisfied enough to publish it. Please heed the warnings since I know this sort of content can be triggering for some. *Edit* The formatting and tagging got messed up, so I’m sorry if this doesn’t show in certain tags or if it shows up multipule times.

When JJ and Pope bounded down the bank to meet up with you, John B., and Kie at the HMS Pogue, you noticed JJ’s hair was messier than usual and his blue bandana was tied snuggly around his neck. His grin was dirty, cocky, and full of more tongue than teeth as he made his way onto the boat alongside Pope. The blond fell into the seat beside you, carelessly throwing his arm over your shoulders, yet keeping it rested on the edge of the boat so only his fingertips were brushing your exposed collarbone. Instantly, an unfamiliar smell hit you, causing you to crinkle your nose in confusion and disgust; instead of the familiar smell of weed, dirt, ocean spray, and JJ’s cheap cologne, you were met with an overwhelming citrus and floral scent. As you tilted your head up to get a better look at JJ, you realized that the corner of his lip was turned up just the slightest, an indicator that JJ’s grin was really just a mask. You nudged your shoulder against him, breaking him out of whatever manic-trance he was starting to slip into. The dirty grin dropped as he looked down at you and was replaced with a soft smile once he saw your scrunched up face. The hand dangling over your shoulder moved up to run calloused knuckles over your cheekbone, while something sad crept into JJ’s blue eyes.

“Kooks give you boys any trouble?” you questioned, speaking to both JJ and Pope yet keeping your eyes locked with the boy beside you. 

Pope shook his head, “Nah, not this time. It’s too early for their rich-asses to be awake, let alone stirring for trouble.” You looked over at Pope as he spoke, cataloging how he looked just as he did when the two boys left this morning. He also wasn’t paying any special attention to JJ as he typically did whenever he was trying to keep one of JJ’s secrets from the others.

“Yeah, they don’t know what it’s like to try and get all your work done before noon during the summers,” JJ scoffed before giving a piece of your hair a playful tug. You scowled and swatted at his hand, which only made JJ laugh.

“Well,” John B. began as he steered the boat away from the bank, “now that we’re all free for the rest of the day, let’s get this boat on the road.”

--

As soon as John B. had found a deep, calm patch of water to settle the HMS, he was kicking off his shoes and diving in head-first. Typically, JJ would’ve already been on the back of the boat ready to flip into the water, but today he had remained in his spot beside you as Kie and Pope followed JB. The Pogues didn’t pay you two any mind as they splashed around with one another, swimming a few feet away from the boat to give you and JJ some space. JJ’s finger twirled around a stray strand of your hair absentmindedly, while his gaze rested unfocused on a spot in front of him.

“Hey,” you hummed, giving him another nudge. His blue eyes blinked hastily at the movement, jerking to look down at you. “What happened this morning?”

“What makes you think something happened?” he asked defensively as his body stiffened and his finger ceased its movement. Your eyebrows furrowed but you didn’t comment on the sudden hostility, realizing that you had accidentally backed him into a corner. 

“You just don’t seem like you’re completely here, that’s all. You were okay when you left this morning, even though it was the crackass of dawn, and I just want to make sure that Topper didn’t fuck around with you or anything,” you said gently, shifting in your spot so you could place your head on top of the arm that JJ still had resting on the edge of the boat. Your (e/c) eyes looked into JJ’s blue ones, watching as a multitude of different emotions flashed in his eyes and a small frown slipped onto his face. 

He ran his thumb across the bottom of your jaw, offering you a pensive look as he did so. “Yeah, I’m okay, I just…” he sighed deeply, “just had a difficult delivery today, that’s all. I promise I wasn’t jumped by a Kook or anything like that. You don’t have to worry ‘bout me, baby.” He gave you a pained smile and cupped your jaw. “You know I love you, right? And that I would never do anything to hurt you?”

You were taken back by his question, pulling away slightly so you could stare at him in confusion. “Of course, and I love you, too. What brought that up?”

“Nothing,” JJ shrugged, trying to act nonchalant despite the flash of guilt he was unable to hide. “I just wanted to make sure you knew how much I love you.” He paused for a while, staring down at you while cupping your face in both of his hands. His thumbs rested over your cheekbones and his pinkies laid just below your ears while he looked down at you. His eyes were searching for something, you could tell by the way they flicked across your features, but you couldn’t tell what he was hoping to find. “I’m sore from this morning, think I’m gonna stay on the boat for a while. Stay with me?” he asked with a pout before pushing your cheeks together to force your lips into an amusing pucker. 

You couldn’t help but giggle at his antics while nodding your head, unable to say anything as he squished your cheeks some more. JJ’s smile brightened at your muffled giggles as you looked up at him adoringly. He continued to pull your cheeks in different directions, and you eventually had to reach out and tickle beneath his arms to get him to let you go. Both of you were laughing loudly at this point as JJ retaliated by pinching your sides and pulling you closer to him, but an unexpected ripple against the boat caused you to lose your balance. JJ used his body to soften your fall as the two of you toppled to the deck floor, proceeding to laugh even as JJ let out an exaggerated oomph at the impact. The melancholy from earlier was all but forgotten as you were cradled against his chest, continuing to tickle and wrestle one another on top of the boat.

--

Over the next three weeks JJ had grown jumpier, but he seemed more skittish around you than anyone else. He had taken on more deliveries with Pope than expected, now doing 4-5 deliveries a week rather than the typical 2 or 3. His cash flow had increased by nearly $300 a week and you couldn’t deny that the flowers and pastries JJ had started to bring you were nice. However, the materialistic increase couldn’t hide the emotional and intimate decrease you had felt from your boyfriend recently. In the year that you and JJ had been dating, and even in the years of friendship beforehand, he had always valued actions over gifts. He would even sometimes prefer talking about what he was feeling rather than handing you something that had cost money. So, as JJ’s touches against your skin and words whispered into your ear became non-existent and his gift-giving became unmanageable, you knew something was going on: something he clearly didn’t want to talk to you about.

After not hearing from JJ in two days and knowing he wouldn’t be opening up to you anytime soon, you made your way over to Pope’s place in order to hopefully get some answers. Mr. Hayward was the one to open the door when you knocked, offering you a smile as you gave him one of your own. “Hey there, Mr. Hayward, I really like your shirt.”

He looked down at his shirt in confusion before huffing a laugh. “Thank you, (Y/N), it’s date night,” he grinned, tugging at the cotton fabric of his blue button-up. You heard the distinct sound of heels clicking against the floor before Mrs. Hayward rounded the corner. She jumped slightly when she saw you, not expecting to see anyone at the door, and then she smiled with a soft laugh. 

“Hi, (Y/N)! How are you, sweetheart?” she asked, coming to stand beside the door as Mr. Hayward went to grab the car keys.

“I’m doing okay, just came by to see if Pope needed any help with his summer homework. I know his AP classes were stressing him out a bit, so I offered to go over one of his essays with him. How about you? Your dress is really pretty, by the way.” 

Mrs. Hayward smiled at your compliment, giving her dark-red dress a bashful glance. “It’s date night, and I’ve been waiting to pop this baby out of the closet for months,” she chuckled, her bashful smile now becoming one of pride. “Pope is right upstairs in his room and I’m sure he’ll be really happy with the help.” You nodded with a smile and headed up to Pope’s room after waving goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Hayward. 

“Pope! Your mom let me in!” you shouted up the stairs as a warning before walking into your best friend’s room. Pope lifted his head from his desk at your entrance and gave you a gleeful grin. “I promise I’ll help you with your essay, but first I need your help with something,” you stated when you saw him beginning to reach for his essay. 

“Yeah, ‘course. What’s going on?” 

You took a deep breath and sat down on the edge of his bed. “It’s about JJ, but you can’t tell him I said anything.” Pope nodded and gave you his apt attention. “Ever since his delivery with you a few weeks ago, he’s been acting a little weird. I don’t know if anyone else has noticed it, but I have and I’m worried. He’s been wearing his bandana more, he almost never takes his shirt off for swimming or anything else, he doesn’t talk to me anymore, doesn’t touch me, but he’s been spending money on me. I know it sounds like unimportant tiny things, but to JJ they’re not. I’m really worried, Pope, and I was wondering if you knew if something was going on?”

“Nu-uh, he hasn’t said anything to me,” Pope frowned. “But I know he’s been taking longer with his deliveries than he used to, yet he’s making more cash. Do you think he’s worn out?” You couldn’t help but scoff at Pope’s words and shake your head. “What do you think it is?”

“I have no idea and that’s the problem. It’s not his dad and I can’t imagine him being overworked with the amount of energy he has. I don’t know what to do or how to help him and it scares me.”

Pope fell silent for a while, staring down at the ground with a pensive expression. “Listen,” he began with a sigh, “I know this isn’t something you want to hear or think of, and I don’t even believe it myself. But… but maybe he’s been seeing-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Pope Hayward. Don’t you dare,” you seethed, eyeing him with a dangerous look. “He wouldn’t do that, he’s not-”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Pope chanted and held up his hands. “Why don’t you go talk to him? You’ve always been the best out of anyone when it comes to getting JJ to open up.” 

You mulled over Pope’s words for a few moments, before giving a reluctant nod. “Sounds like my only option at this point; I just need to get him alone with me for more than five minutes,” you grumbled bitterly. “Anyway, now that we’ve covered the I-miss-my-boyfriend unit, let’s go over your essay, yeah?”

--

The next day was JJ’s day off and more than likely one of the only times you’d be able to sit down and talk with him. It was almost 6:30 in the morning when you arrived at John B’s place and you smiled softly when you saw him and JJ in the ocean. You left your shoes by The Chateau before heading down to the shoreline, waving to the two of them once they spotted you. JB waved his hand wildly in an attempt to get you in the water, but you simply shook your head and plopped down on the sand, waiting patiently for the two boys to finish their morning surf. While you waited, you laid down in the sand as the rising sun moved over you, enjoying the calm atmosphere and playful shouts of your boyfriend and best friend in the ocean. Water lapped at your feet and brought the occasional seashell to knock against your ankle, and your toes dug into the wet sand each time the water pulled away. When you felt the wind gently hit your bare legs and the waves began to slow down, you knew the boys would be making their way back to shore in the next few minutes. 

Eventually, the sound of feet splashing in the water drew closer and the anxiety in your gut began to grow as JJ and John B made their way back onto dry land. A shadow loomed over you, blocking the sun from hitting your face and causing you to squint open an eye to see who it was. JJ looked down at you with a smile, water dripping from his hair onto your exposed stomach. He carefully set his board to the side, giving John B a mindless wave as the other boy made his way back to The Chateau, before lowering himself down to you. His head rested on your chest, his arms wrapped around your waist, and his legs shifted in the sand to wrap around your own. He was wet and smelt like saltwater and you could feel a piece of slimy seaweed tangled around his calf, but you buried your fingers in his messy hair and ran your hand over his shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer to you. This was the closest you’d been to him in weeks and you had been terrified about forgetting the way his skin felt against yours; but as his hands gripped your waist and his lips rested against your collarbone and your nails scratched at his scalp and your fingers massaged his sore shoulders, everything felt okay. But, regardless of how right things felt again or how comfortable you were, you couldn’t just forget about the past three weeks knowing that it would all start again tomorrow. 

“Hey,” you whispered, tapping JJ’s shoulder blade. He hummed in acknowledgment but didn’t move a muscle. “I want to talk to you-” JJ stiffened against you, his grip tightening subconsciously, “-about the past few weeks. I know something’s been bothering you and I thought giving you space would help you work through it, but it hasn’t. You’ve only pulled away even more.” 

JJ remained stiff but his grip relaxed and he released a shaky breath. “I know.”

“Can you tell me what’s going on? Please? I love all the little treats, flowers, and gifts, but I miss you, JJ-- I miss this.” You tenderly ran your nails down his side and over his hip for emphasis. “I miss holding you and being held by you. I miss playing with your hair and rubbing your shoulders. I miss talking with you in the morning while floating on our boards or laying on the HMS Pogue. I miss finding seashells and comparing them to one another. I miss my boyfriend.” 

JJ inhaled sharply before curling against you and holding you tight, his face now buried in your chest in a desperate attempt to conceal his tears. His body shook and his muscles tensed as he fought to hold back a sob, and his hold on you was nearing painful. Your heart rate sped up as worry and anxiety took over, and you had to fight against JJ’s grip in order to sit up and pull him with you. Instantly he was digging the palm of his hands into his eyes and biting down on his bottom lip, with harsh and jagged breaths escaping from his nose too quickly. 

“Baby, stop it, you gotta let go,” you urged, tugging his lip from between his teeth to avoid it splitting (as it often had before whenever JJ tried not to cry). You forced yourself to regulate your racing heart before grabbing one of JJ’s hands and placing it over your chest. “I’m right here, you’re okay, you can cry, babe. I know it’s hard but it’s just me, I’m not going anywhere.”

JJ’s fingers curled against your skin, feeling your heart beat steadily against his palm. He dropped his other hand from his eye and blinked away the stars and black spots, but he kept his gaze on the spot where your knees touched. Tears fell freely from his eyes now, curving over his nose and getting caught between his lips. He let out a few choked sobs and harsh sniffles for a few minutes before slowly pulling his hand away from your chest once he calmed down. Instead of pulling completely away as you expected him to do, JJ placed his hand on your thigh and rubbed his thumb in mindless circles.

“I miss you too, princess, I miss you so fucking much. I’m sorry for pulling away and for not talking to you, but I didn’t… I don’t know how to talk about what’s going on. I want to tell you, I’ve wanted to since it started but…” JJ trailed off with an uneven sigh and shook his head. “I just need to get over it. It’s not that big of a deal, it happens to all sorts of people, I need to stop being a little bitch about it,” he seethed before slamming his fist into the sand beside him. 

You placed your hand on top of the one he had on your thigh and squeezed his wrist. “No, you don’t. You’re not a little bitch for caring about something and for being hurt. You can tell me, you know that I’m not going to judge you. Whatever is going on is hurting you and you don’t deserve to be hurt more than you already have been.”

“I don’t want you to break up with me. I don’t want to lose you,” JJ confessed in a broken voice. He looked up at you and you could finally see the anguish and guilt clouding his eyes as he continued to cry. “But I need to tell you, I can’t keep it inside anymore. So… so if you do want to break up, I understand,” he choked before furiously wiping at his eyes.

Your heart stuttered at the implication causing you to take a deep breath. “Just be honest, that’s all I ask. You don’t have to hide anything or alter the truth, okay?” JJ gave a small nod and squeezed your thigh.

“It first happened three weeks ago, when I was helping Pope with an early morning delivery. I was doing my last run to the Cameron’s, and usually I drop them off with Wheezie since she’s the only one ever awake. But that morning she was at a friend’s house or something, I guess, and instead, it was Rose who was there to grab the groceries. She uh, she had me follow her inside to the kitchen and started showing me where to put stuff away. And in my head, ya know, I’m thinkin’, ‘lady, this isn’t part of my job description’, but I don’t say anything because I need the cash. So I’m putting away her groceries and she’s lingering and saying these things about how strong I am and how she’s so glad I chose to help her, but I don’t think anything of it. But when I reach up to put away the cereal, my tank top rides up and she comes up behind me and puts her hands on my waist. I jump and almost knock down the entire cupboard, and I try to push her away but she just spins me around like it’s nothing. Like I’m nothing. I’m telling her to stop, that I’ve got a girl, that I’m not interested, all this shit, but she doesn’t listen. She just keeps touching me, mainly my stomach and arms, and saying how she’s just appreciating ‘a hard-working young man’. I wanted to push her away and get the hell out of there, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t fucking move. If I did push her away then that shit would’ve been turned on me so fast and I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t breathe and all I kept thinking about was you and how I wanted her to stop. After she had her fill of feeling me up, she kissed my neck and handed me a hundred-dollar tip. Like… like I was her own personal whore or somethin’. I ran out of there so damn fast, and I tried rubbing off the lipstick but it was bright fucking red, so I had to wear my bandana around my neck all day. That morning wasn’t the only time, either, she’s been requesting me for every delivery. I wanted to say something, I wanted to tell you but I… I was scared. I’m a guy, this shit doesn’t happen to guys. I should’ve pushed her away, I should’ve fought back, I should’ve done more but instead, I just fucking stood there. I’ve been cheating on you because I was too much of a pussy to push her away.”

“You haven’t been cheating on me,” you said instantly, letting the impact of JJ’s story wash over you. His head snapped up and his brows furrowed as he looked at you. He opened his mouth to argue, but you shook your head. “You told her to stop. She’s in her thirties and you’re sixteen. She holds power and authority over you, and if you physically pushed her away things would have gotten much worse. You didn’t ask for her to touch you or kiss you or give you more money than you were owed. Rose sexually assaulted you, and that isn’t your fault, JJ. None of what happened is your fault.” Your voice was gentle but your words were firm and you held onto JJ’s hand as you spoke. 

“I did cheat on you, I let another woman-”

You interrupted him, “You didn’t let her do anything. She forced herself onto you and put you in a position where she knew you wouldn’t be able to fight back or deny her. You were forced into being complacent, and that’s not your fault. You’re right, this does happen all the time, but just because you’re a guy that doesn’t make it unimportant or invalid. You didn’t cheat on me, and I’m not breaking up with you. I’m going to help you work through this.”

JJ shook his head violently and tore his hand from your grasp. He stood up on weak legs and paced beside you, tugging harshly at his hair. “No, no, I wasn’t sexually assaulted. I’m strong, I’m a guy, I could’ve pushed her away easily, but I didn’t. I didn’t fight back and I didn’t tell you for three weeks! You shouldn’t be holding my hand, you should be screaming at me and hitting me and breaking up with me!” he ranted in hysterics, continuing to pace and tug at his hair.

Your heart ached at your boyfriend’s words and you had to blink away your own tears. You moved yourself to your knees before reaching out and grabbing ahold of JJ’s ankle, forcing him to stop moving and look down at you. “What if it was me?”

“What? What if what was you?” 

“What if I had helped Pope with the deliveries and Ward Cameron touched me while I was putting away his groceries? What if he had me backed against a counter and was touching my waist and kissing my neck? What if I begged him to stop, told him I wasn’t interested, told him I had a boyfriend, and told him no multiple times? What if he didn’t listen to me and kept touching me, even though I told him no? Everyone on this island knows I can fight just as hard, if not harder, than any man. But what if I couldn’t fight back? What if I punched him and lost everything? Mr. Hayward could lose his business, Pope could lose his scholarship, and I could get thrown in jail; because the Cameron’s have money and they have power and I don’t. So, what if I was touched by an older man repeatedly, against my will, even after I begged him to stop? Would it have been my fault? Would I be weak because it happened? Would you break up with me?” 

You looked up at JJ and his breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening in understanding. His knees buckled and you were quick to grab ahold of his waist and carefully help him back to the ground. Once he was safely seated, he reached out and grabbed your hands, pulling you closer to him until you were straddling his lap. His arms wrapped around your waist and he tucked his head into your neck, holding you close to him. You could feel his body shaking despite the warm weather and his silent tears falling against your throat, but you remained silent as he worked through what you had said. You dutifully ran your hands through his hair, combing out the tangles with your fingers and giving soothing scratches against his scalp. JJ clung to you in silence for the next hour, and you had almost fallen asleep when you felt his arms loosen and his hands move to your waist. You pulled back to look down at him and saw him already looking up at you with red eyes and puffy cheeks. The anguish and guilt that had been swimming in his blue eyes the past few weeks no longer seemed to overtake the love and adoration they usually held when JJ looked at you. You cupped his cheeks between your hands and kissed him softly, smiling when you felt his thumbs rub your sides in appreciation.

“I love you,” JJ murmured against your lips before pulling back.

You kissed his forehead lovingly, “I love you too, babe. We’ll work through this, you’re not on your own anymore. I’ve got you, and I’ll make sure Rose Cameron doesn’t lay a hand on you again.”

#jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank x reader #outerbanks #outerbanks imagine #outerbanks x reader #outer banks #obx

[drivingsideways]

Into the Ring/Review

If I had one word for Into the Ring: delightful.

I didn’t know anything about the show or have too many expectations when I started watching the series- it was a random pick based on a vague impression that some folks on my tumblr dash liked it, but it had me hooked from the first minute. While watching, I was often struck by how easily its combination of  quirky, screwball comedy and very heartfelt, politically aware storytelling could fall flat on its face, but miraculously doesn’t.  That’s largely because Nana’s uninhibited performance as Goo Se Ra is infectious in its joy;  her comedic timing is spectacular, and I think she made the most of a script that loved her character a lot. 

It’s also one of the few dramas where I found myself (a) believing in the romance and (b) rooting for the couple. Park Sung Hoon underplays the quiet, stubborn and prickly Seo Gong-myeong to just the right degree that his character compliments Goo Se-ra without being buried by her effervescence. These are two people who have different approaches to life, and opposing personalities,  but have a strong sense of morality and interest in making a difference- and it’s lovely to watch them find companionship in each other at just the right time, and embark on a journey together. That line about love being friendship set on fire seems particularly apt for them. I could have done without that childhood friends-meet-as-adults trope, but in the end they utilize that in a way that it’s less about “fated romance”, and more about explaining how these two characters become the adult versions of themselves. 

The two actors have fantastic chemistry with each other. They’re physically comfortable with each other in ways that I don’t often see in kdrama romances- and I don’t mean just their sizzling, and very authentic looking kisses, it’s also that when their eyes meet in a shared joke, you can see that they both absolutely do find it giggle-fit funny, and when they put their arms around each other, it’s with a comfortable familiarity that feels very genuine. I love that Se-ra is confident in her sexuality- none of the simpering or startled deer-in-headlights moments for her-- those are all for him (lol!)--but I also love that they do that in the gentlest and sweetest way possible, without making it either weirdly desexualized or patronizing (which is unfortunately the impression I end up getting in most kdrama romance “scenes”) 

The show also takes care to make the tapestry of their lives as rich as possible. This is generally something I’ve come to expect from kdramas, so I was glad not to be disappointed here. I was especially thrilled to have some great female characters (and their actors) in the supporting cast- especially Yoo Da In as councilwoman and canny politician Yoon Hee-soo. I’ve seen some people refer to her as “second female lead”, which feels a bit dismissive, and not really how that character is written. She’s one of the most interesting characters in the show, and ngl I would watch the spin off about how Yoon Hee-soo gets herself elected to the National Assembly and then becomes PM or something. I love that her ambition and her moral choices are allowed to be questioned without demeaning her in any way. (*cough * stop KES dramas *cough *) ; I love that she gets to be clever, and funny, a bit of a troll, and sad and annoyed, and disappointed, but unbowed. What a great writing choice to make her a foil to Goo Se-ra’s blunt hammer approach to any problem. I am so hoping that if we get a second season of this show, it’ll build on their relationship- there’s so much to mine there. 

One of my favourite parts of this show is truly how it makes space for its female characters: from Goo Se-ra’s irrepressible mom, to her besties squad, to her rivals, to the antagonists, and the people she helps--and even the two ahjummas that she tries to scam into giving her information while playing detective. I also loved, loved, loved to bits that a running theme in this show is putting political power- actual political power- in the hands of women. Sure, it’s a feel-good show, but it’s a show that allows  both the scheming District Chief Won So-Jung and the idealistic independent candidate Son Eun-Shil, whose incredible choice of voluntarily stepping away from hard-won chance at fulfilling a personal ambition sets Goo Se-ra on her own journey navigating the corridors of power . And when Goo Se-ra returns that torch back to her in the end of the series- that feels earned and correct. Se-ra has a lot to learn and maybe needs some time to figure out if this is what she wants to do, but Son Eun-Shil deserves her own chance. 

In general, I thought the show was really clever about its political/ social messaging. It’s wrapped in a lot of goofy shenanigans, and I can see how people may feel it’s not “realistic” unlike for eg, Stranger or Life or the other highly rated dramas that deal with systems of power, but I think, at its core, it treats political apathy or a nihilistic helplessness, so fashionable in certain kinds of storytelling, as the enemy - and it does that with wry humour and a great deal of charm. 

Tl;dr: WATCH IT! 

#Into the Ring #kdrama #kdrama recs #i'm a queue for you