#STAR WARS Elephant Man

[margindoodles2407]

Plo Koon: Exists Me, an Intellectual: Ah Yes. An Elephant

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Series Synopsis: When the husband you’ve never met returns from the war you’ve never understood, he comes bearing a strange and inexplicable gift — a prince in chains who he refuses to kill.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Mydei x F!Reader

Chapter Word Count: 10.2k

Content Warnings: pls check the masterlist there is. a lot. and i’m not retyping all of that LOL

A/N: I AM SOO SCARED TO POST THIS NGL LMAOAO like i said in the warnings i literally. have not played amphoreus yet. idek anything about mydei SDKJH i am so worried i will disappoint everyone who's expressed interest in reading this HAHA i was also. not expecting anyone to do that tbh. BUT thank you all for your kind words on the masterlist and i hope this lives up to expectations at least a bit!!

You spent the day of your wedding with a man made of marble — a stand-in for your new husband, who was off fighting in a war of the kind which had neither cause nor, seemingly, end. The statue was carved in his image and sneered down at you as you whispered to it, swearing vows of duty and obedience and docility, but, in spite or maybe because of its detached lifelessness, you found its presence to be a kindness. What did it say of your husband, that you preferred the company of that dead stone to him? Perhaps very much, or perhaps very little. 

He is a generous man, the servants assured you, giggling amongst themselves, exchanging knowing looks as they dragged you into the foreign palace where you would spend the rest of your days. You will want for nothing.

It was draftier than your home, the wind bouncing off of the white walls and nipping at you skin. You spent your time buried under seven-and-twenty layers of furs and fabrics, lying in an unfamiliar bed and flinching away from the shadows upon the ceiling. This was an idle and dull way to waste away your existence, and yet you could not bring yourself to do anything else, trapped in the mire of waiting and waiting for your husband’s return.

He came back in the third month, which was as auspicious as anything. They loved that number here, you had come to find: three, the symbol of fortune and fate, of magic and mischief, of power and punishment. Three vows sworn; three blessings granted; three months passed before you finally met the man you had married.

There was much fanfare about his arrival. When you peered out of the window, you saw that the streets were stuffed to the bursting with throngs of people shoving one another around, hissing and biting as they craned their necks. At first it surprised you — was he truly so loved here, even when he was elsewhere despised? — but then you realized that it was not your husband upon his charger that they were all lined up to meet. Rather, it was the procession following him which captured their interests, the spoils of war which he displayed with a juvenile, worthless pride.

A triad of elephants covered in finely wrought armor, their heads hung low and resigned, their plodding walks spiritless and lame. A herd of sheep with silver wool, dotting the dark cobblestones like a cluster of stars, stumbling along at the prodding of a soldier-turned-shepherd. A wagon filled with spears and swords, ostensibly once neatly stacked, now a matted mess of steel and bronze. Vases carried in the arms of the younger men, overflowing with coins that trailed after them like breadcrumbs, snatched up by the most daring of the onlookers, who did not fear rebuke. And, finally, in a place so honorable it could only have been mocking—

“Lady,” a soft voice said. You drew your coat tighter around you, although today was, by all accounts, warm for the season, and pretended like you did not hear the girl. She sighed and then tugged on your arm insistently; perhaps it was improper, but there wasn’t anyone who would chide her for it. “You have been summoned by his majesty.”

Hadn’t you known this would happen eventually? Hadn’t you expected it? You had had your time to come to terms with it, which was more than most got, and so there was no excuse for the reluctance which choked your throat and stilled your footsteps. This was your duty, this was what you had sworn, and so — and so you could not hesitate.

“Lady…” the girl said with another sigh. You pretended to be all-consumed with the action of closing the curtains, your back to her as you struggled to force a smile onto your face. When you deemed your expression acceptable, you spun around and nodded at her.

“It will not do to keep him waiting,” you said, motioning for her to lead the way. She did so without complaint, perhaps relieved that you were not giving her further trouble; even now, the servants did not know what to think of you, could not quite fathom what category of being you were. Some were fond of you, but most treated you with a careful distrust that you could not blame them for, even though you sometimes wanted to.

The grand entrance hall of the palace opened to the mouth of the road, which swelled out into a sprawling courtyard. Its centerpiece was an enormous fountain which sprayed a fine, cool mist into the air no matter the time of year, and it was by this fountain that you waited, wringing your hands as your husband drew nearer and nearer. Belatedly, you thought that you should try to conceal your distress, but there was nothing to be done about it now. The best you could do was say, if you were asked, that it was simply the joy of a bride faced with the prospect of a reunion with her beloved. Nobody would question that, although then again, nobody questioned you very much in general, so it was doubtful that you’d even have to use the quick excuse.

Your husband’s warhorse was a sprightly, slender beast, its coat the dappled grey of royalty, its face pretty and dished in the way of the Eastern breeds. When it paused in front of you, it shoved its black muzzle into your shoulder, nearly knocking you down, and then it stomped its hoof when your husband tightened the reins, pulling it back before dismounting and handing it off to a waiting stableboy. 

“My apologies, dear lady,” he said, bowing before you with as much gallantry as you had been told he possessed. His voice was gentle and amused, his face even more handsome in flesh than it had been in stone; you should’ve, by all rights, felt pleased. You were married to this man. You belonged to him. How many women wished to be in your place? Yet all you could muster was fear, throttling and all-consuming. He was beautiful in the way of a snake, and you knew without knowing that he was poised, in some way, to strike.

“It is alright,” you said, disguising the tremble of your voice with a broad, false grin. “I am glad to finally make your acquaintance…my lord.”

The address was unfamiliar on your tongue. What would your younger self, that girl who had never known subservience nor strife, say if she saw you ducking your head in defeated compliance? How she would laugh! How she would pity you! My lord. But he was exactly that.

“The sentiment is returned in full,” he said, and then he extended his arms in a grand, sweeping motion. “Indeed, to celebrate this momentous occasion, I have arranged for you a gift!”

“A gift?” you repeated. Certainly, you had asked for no such thing, and you did not have the time to school your face into neutrality, naked surprise flashing across it. Your husband chuckled at the sight, nodding at you.

“I have brought the finest of plunders for you, dear lady,” he said, and your stomach twisted into knots at the familiarity with which he spoke to you, as if you were affable lovers instead of strangers. “Even your father’s treasures, vast and bountiful as they may be, cannot compare to this!”

The mention of your father stabbed at your heart, and hidden in the folds of your coat, you clenched your fists. Your father, the richest man in the world…and yet your husband dared compare his meager gift to that? You wanted to spit in his face that for your third birthday, your father had gifted you a villa made of gold, the walls inlaid with gemstones and painted with flowers. Indeed, you might’ve goaded him in such a way if you had the capabilities, but then you noticed what the army-men were bringing forth and your mouth suddenly refused to move.

It was the prisoner, the one kept in a place of honor by your husband and his soldiers, the one who the entire empire had ridiculed as he had been paraded through it like a champion hound. He was tall, towering over the army-men flanking him, and although his eyes drooped nearly shut, there was a heat to his demeanor, a severe, ferocious anger which shone through his exhaustion. He seemed like more of a half-tamed jungle cat than a man, and indeed when he halted before you, you half-expected him to snarl, to bare bloody fangs and lunge at your throat with fingers like claws, like swords, tearing through your neck as if it were paper.

“When he’s like this, you almost forget what a monster he can be,” your husband mused, reaching out and flicking the man on the forehead with a snicker. “Isn’t he all but lovely? Oh, don’t worry, dear lady, he can’t do anything to you. He’s under the influence of a sleeping draught at the moment, and anyways, those chains are thrice-blessed. It’s perfectly safe.”

The chains he spoke of were as gold as the man’s hair, looping around his wrists and forearms, curling over the red marks emblazoned on his shimmering skin, weaving in between his legs and around his torso. They were sturdy and gleamed with the power of their three blessings, and although you still understood little about this strange place with its strange power, you could tell that it would take a great force, greater than was possessed by any mere man or deity, to break them.

“He’s the prince of Kremnos,” your husband said when your shock stretched on. “A right beast, I’ll say. We almost fell to his efforts, but in the end, we bested him — as you can see. What do you think? Do you like him?”

“He’s — it’s — horrible,” you said, your skin crawling the longer and longer you stared at the prince, your words a jumble, your head spinning. You wanted to be anywhere but in this courtyard, in front of this fallen man, who was kept alive for — for what? For amusement? For play? As a gift?

“Isn’t he?” your husband said, patting you on the shoulder with a grim smile. “And now he is yours.”

The thrice-blessed chains flashed in the sun, and you shook your head, both in refusal and to clear your vision of the blinding, searing spots they left in it.

“I have no need of a prisoner,” you said, and although your tone remained ever-muted, you spoke as cuttingly as you could manage to. “What will I do with him? Why do you torture him so? You bested him; if he was as fierce an opponent as you claim, then the least you owe him is a death with dignity. Kill him and be done with the matter. Why have you brought him all this way? I don’t want him.”

“He will die, eventually,” my husband said. “I shall execute him myself when it comes to it, but the time is not yet right. I don’t expect you to understand such matters, and neither should you trouble yourself with doing so…but know this, dear lady: you cannot give back a gift once it has been freely given. You can do what you’d like with him now that he is yours, but you cannot refuse him. Perhaps that is how affairs were conducted in your backwards land, but here it is not so.”

You wanted my land, you longed to say. You took me from my father and wed me to a statue in search of it. And still you call it backward? But you could not, so instead, you turned away — away from the prince, who was close to crumpling and only remained standing out of sheer will, and away from your husband, who beamed as if he had done something great or wonderful.

“I will retire now,” you said. Do not follow me. This remained implied, unsaid, but a fool your husband was not, and so he only hummed in agreement.

“Be well, dear lady,” he said. “My messengers have told me that you are having difficulties adjusting to the climate here. I shall be sure to pray for your feeble constitution.”

“Thank you, my lord,” you said, stiffly, primly. It scratched like bile and you hated every minute of it, but you had no recourse for the matter, so you swallowed it down, as you always did and always would.

“And what of the prisoner?” he said. “Shall I send him to a jail? Do you think he is better suited for deprivation or pain?”

They meant to make him shatter, to methodically yank him apart until he faced death with the dull eyes and swayed back of an over-aged broodmare. You supposed to them it was meaningless — why should they show consideration or kindness to a man who would never show them the same? — but you were no warmonger, and that apathy did not cling to you yet. The prince was a beast born of sun, a wild, vicious creature, and if he really was slated to die, then you wanted him to meet his end as just that, nothing less. 

“Leave him be,” you said. “Treat him as well as you are able.”

“He would’ve killed me,” your husband said, a low note of warning in his voice. You shrank into the safety of your clothes, as if they were a shield against his vexation.

“But instead you will kill him,” you said. “So how does it matter? You said I could do as I like; well, this is what pleases me. Don’t prolong this anymore than necessary.”

You darted back into the palace without waiting to hear his answer, your jaw burning and your footsteps heavy against the mosaic floor as you ran all of the way to your chambers and slammed the door shut behind you.

For three days and three nights you did not leave your room, taking all your meals in seclusion, refusing any visitors that might attempt entry. You could not help it; the thought of seeing your husband or any of the soldiers made you want to weep — you! Who never wept, even as a baby! So you claimed that you were terribly unwell, that you could not stand for fear of collapse, and that managed to ward away your husband without incurring his wrath, even though it was only a temporary solution.

As the sun set on the fourth day, there was a knock on your door, and you were about to call out that you had no interest in conversation when someone hissed through the crack in the entrance: “Lady, I come not on your husband’s behalf but another’s. There is trouble, and you must attend to it.”

“What?” you said, scrambling to your feet, crouching by the entrance, pressing your ear to the wooden door without opening it. “Who is this? Who are you? Speak plainly, so that we may understand one another!”

There was a shuffling sound, and then an exhale. You worried with the collar of your shirt as you waited for them to continue, your arms pulled tightly around yourself, your brows furrowing together as you chewed on your lower lip.

“The prince of Kremnos,” they whispered. “He calls for you.”

“Are they mistreating him?” you said, straightening and flinging the door open. “The prince, are they — hello?”

The hallway was devoid of life. You peered down it, craning your neck this way and that, but it was placid, showing no signs of having been disturbed. Shutting the door slowly, you leaned against it, holding your head in your hands. Was this place driving you to insanity, then? And if it was, then why could you not have thought of something more pleasant than summons from a prisoner — prisoner!

Wasn’t it your duty to make sure your husband had held good on his word? The prisoner was yours, though the notion of ownership sent unpleasant shivers down your spine and didn’t feel quite right — perhaps a better way to think of it, then, was responsibility. He was your responsibility, and maybe the strange vision had been nothing more than a reminder of what you owed the man.

You waited until it was midnight, when you could be certain that your husband would not rise from his slumber at the sound of your activity, and then you donned a pair of slippers and a cloak, throwing the hood on and retreating into the billowing depths of the fabric, so that your face was obscured from prying eyes. Of course, there would not be very many of those, not at such a late hour, but you did not want to risk even one person recognizing you and reporting back to your husband, whose reaction to this escapade you could not foretell.

Although you were not so familiar with the palace’s layout, as you had never spent much time exploring it, most constructions of this nature followed a similar plan, and you had grown up in exactly such a grand, sweeping home, so you found the doorway to the cellar in record time. As the palace had no towers, the cellar was the only logical option for the keeping of such a dangerous prisoner, and you had no doubt in your mind that this was where you would find the prince, if he was still somewhere that you could find him.

The half-moon was your only witness as you fumbled with the lock, trying every key in your possession until one finally slotted into place and turned. Wincing as the door heaved open with a profound creak, you yanked it shut behind you quickly, without ceremony, lighting a small candle and using it to guide your way down the dark stairs, rushing so that you were out of sight in case someone came to investigate.

You did not know how long you walked for, but eventually the stairway ended, giving way to cool, damp earth. The must of uncut stone permeated the thick, heavy air, and the adjustment of your eyes to the surrounding blackness was slow, the pain of it only alleviated somewhat by the little candle’s valiant flame.

“Come to toss scraps at me?” The voice was rumbling and low; in spite of its weakness, you could hear a sneer in it, a disdain in the rough baritone. “You needn’t try again. Like I told you, I won’t eat your trash.”

“No,” you said. “I’ve brought nothing with me.”

There was a brief pause, and then: “You sound different than the others.”

“This tongue is foreign to me, as it is to you,” you said. “I cannot speak it in the same way as those who were born here. Verily I have been instructed in the art since I was but a child, for my father must have known in that manner of his what would eventually become of me, but I will never lay claim to it the way that a native of this empire would.”

“You’re his wife.” Chains clanked, the harsh drag of metal against stone reverberating in the cellar, and then you felt more than saw his looming countenance, filling what you had mistakenly believed upon arrival to be an empty room. Swinging your candle before you so that it was close to your heart, you gasped when it reflected in a pair of eyes glaring at you from mere paces away, the irises possessing a hollow and impossible brilliance in the way a pair of fading embers might. 

The chains now only encircled his left leg, binding him to the wall but leaving him otherwise free to move as he liked within the length of his confines. He had been stripped of armament and adornment alike, his mane of hair tangled and falling lank about his broad shoulders, yet for all of these injustices, you had no doubt in your mind that he was anything but a prince. He had a dignity to him, a hard-won pride to the straightness of his back and the firmness of his gaze; before you could chase it away, the thought came to you that there was far more intrinsic nobility to this man than there was even your husband.

“I suppose that I am,” you said.

“Have you come to gloat about your craven lord’s cowardly victory, then?” he said. The chains were pulled taut, so he could come no closer to you than he already was — you were sure of this, but you were still a slave to your instincts, which urged you farther and farther from him with every second. He watched you go with some measure of delight, like he was relishing in this power which you had inadvertently gifted him, and when you skittered to a stop, he huffed. “There is nothing to be proud of, and you look a fool for suggesting there might be.”

“I was just…” you trailed off, because it suddenly felt entirely absurd to suggest that you were inquiring after his wellbeing. What did it mean, the wellbeing of a doomed man? What reason would he have to believe your intentions? “What is your name?”

“My name?” he said with a brittle, incredulous laugh that rapidly descended into a cough. “Why? Do you wish to curse your husband with it? Does your language not have gods you can swear on?”

“You’re sickly,” you said, frowning and ignoring his jabs.

“You have torn me from the sun and chained me in this dingy room, and yet you have the gall to be surprised by that?” he said, scoffing. “You’re more of an idiot than that husband of yours.”

“I did no such thing!” you said. The defiance took you by surprise. You had forgotten what it felt like to defy someone, to disagree and resist their words, to feel alive with resentment and bad-temper. “I didn’t wish for this. I didn’t wish to keep you here anymore than you wished to be kept!”

“Is that so?” he said, and then he grinned at you, but it was less of a smile and more of a threat. “Then free me.”

“What?” you said.

“If you don’t want me, then free me,” he said.

“You’ll kill me if I do,” you said uneasily, shifting from foot to foot. 

“I give you my word that I will spare you,” he said, placing a solemn hand over his heart. 

“Not the others?” you said.

He did not respond, which in and of itself was a response. It was one you shouldn’t have liked as much as you did, but in truth the prospect of such a slaughter made your fingers twitch towards him. Only for a moment, and immediately, you shoved your hands behind your back, but it was too late — he had seen, and he raised his eyebrows at you in return.

“Well, anyways, it doesn’t matter,” you said hastily, hoping to distract him before he could comment on the treason. “I couldn’t free you even if I wanted to. Your chains are thrice-blessed. I didn’t know what that meant until recently, but now that I do, I understand why you have been kept without even a permanent guard.”

“Blessings,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Don’t tell me you put genuine stock into that drivel.”

“Perhaps the gods of other lands have forsaken their subjects, but this empire is known as the birthplace of every divine act, and so deities still sometimes glance upon its people and offer up their favor. Thrice-blessed chains are one such offering, for they are in fact more like contracts than they truly are chains,” you said. When he did not interrupt you with any snide remarks, you were emboldened to continue. “They can restrain anything, even a god, but this strength comes at a cost: they are conditional. If their captive can understand this condition and meet it, they will crumble into dust, but until then, the chains remain unbreakable.”

“What is it?” he said insistently, reaching out his hands like he was going to grab you and shake the answer out. He fell short, grasping at empty air, his muscles straining against the chains which, true to legend, did not falter. “This condition. Whatever it is, I will do it. You only need to tell me and I will do it!”

“I don’t know,” you said. His lip curled, and you shook your head frantically. “No, no, I’m telling you the truth, I really don’t know! Only the wielder and the gods he prayed to can know for certain. The conditions are decided arbitrarily, without trend or reason. It could be anything from singing a song to moving a mountain! At least, that’s what I’ve gathered from the little I’ve read on the topic.”

“The wielder — your husband, then? That’s easy enough. Bid him to tell you, and then relay to me his answer,” he said.

“Easy enough? Not in the slightest. He would just as soon do your bidding as he would mine,” you said. The prince squinted at you, and evidently he must’ve determined that you were serious, for he broke into that awful laugh again, the one that must’ve once been handsome and full-bodied but now was little more than a rattling plea for air. 

“You are pitiful,” he said. “I thought that you must be some great, fearsome empress, as wicked as your husband, but you are just a frightened mouse of a girl. You would not survive a day in Kremnos, you know. It would crush you.”

Duty. Obedience. Docility. They were branded onto you, swirling letters that you had unwittingly carved into yourself with every wedding vow you spoke, and you could not escape them any more than the prince could escape his chains. If only you could argue with him, tell him that once upon a time, you had been someone unrecognizable from who you were now…but already, you had tested their limits. Your tongue was frozen in your mouth, refusing to move in anything but accordance with your oaths, and so you only clasped your hands together.

“If you say it is so, then it really must be the case,��� you said. “Farewell, prince of Kremnos.”

“Farewell,” he said, but it was clear he did not mean it. “Dear lady.”

“Don’t call me that,” you said, recognizing the provocation for what it was. “You are not my husband, nor do I wish for you to be.”

“Then what should I refer to you as?” he said. “Your excellency? Your grace? Your most exalted highness? Your holiness, the saint of the realm?”

“Here, I am only known as lady,” you said quietly. “But I bore a different name before. I cannot…I cannot say it anymore, but if you ever come to know of it by other means, then please call me as such.”

Morning brought with it a freezing palm pressed to your brow. It startled you to consciousness both because of its temperature and its temerity, for you could not fathom who had dared to enter your room without your permission, and while you were asleep, at that! In the haze of your sleep-addled mind, a rebuke rose to your lips, but then someone clicked their tongue and you fell silent even as you clambered to a more alert state.

“Your fever has finally broken, dear lady! You do not know how overjoyed I am to hear it,” your husband said, helping you into a sitting position, one hand cradling the back of your neck and the other holding up a glass. You blinked, trying to clear the fog from your vision, swallowing down the water he poured down your throat without objection.

“Fever?” you said.

“The ailment you have been suffering from,” he said. “I was told it was a fever of some sorts. I bore it quietly, the prospect of your malaise, but today I could not stop myself from checking on you. I had some dreams of playing the nurse, but here you are, entirely well! Such a miraculous recovery.”

His grandiose words masked suspicion with affection, but he did not make any further accusations, for just as you had sworn to heed him, so too had he promised to trust you. His vows had been made to a portrait of yours, as well as written in pig’s-blood and sent to you in a sealed envelope. You could recall them with perfect clarity, the way the stench of iron clung to the parchment as you unfolded it and rang your fingers over the lines, which were grouped in stanzas of three. 

Trust. Favor. Companionship.

You spent the entire day with your husband, although you had neither the desire nor the will for it. You hardly ever had the desire or the will to do anything, of course, not nowadays, but this was the worst of all, because your husband was not just a reminder but the very reason for everything which had happened to you. Still, you could not refuse, so you trotted along at his side, motionless as he showed you off to his officers, his advisors, and even, at one point, his cousin, who could not be less interested in you if he tried.

“Brother,” he said boredly, for indeed he and your husband were the only children of their respective fathers, and so were more like siblings than anything, “you have better things to be doing than showing off a woman who doesn’t bear showing off in the first place.”

“Are you saying that she is somehow deficient?” your husband said, swelling up with righteous indignation. Anyone else might’ve lost their head for the statement, especially given how blandly he had said it, but his cousin was above reproach, being the only person he really loved.

“I’m saying that she looks ill with misery,” his cousin said, and then he sighed, returning to his book. “I’m not so sure the lady has recovered from her illness. You ought to be more cautious with her, that’s all.”

His cousin was younger and handsomer than he, and as the two of you walked away, you thought that you would not have minded marrying him as much. Though perhaps this was a paradox — after all, if he had taken you in the manner that your husband had, then you would have hated him, too. It was your lot in life, then; always you would detest whoever you wed, whoever stole your freedom in that way and bound you to them with the cruel ropes of matrimony.

The hall where you took your dinner was like an enormous cavern, so large that you felt like your voice might echo if you spoke. You and your husband were the only ones in it, which heightened the effect, and every clank of his silverware against his porcelain dishes resounded in your ears like discordant bells.

“My prisoner,” you said after a long time had passed wherein the two of you discussed nothing. Your voice was dry with disuse, and you pushed the food on your plate around without attempting to eat, although it was all appetizing and you were certainly hungry.

“What?” your husband said, covering his mouth with his hand as he chewed.

“My prisoner,” you said, clearing your throat but keeping your gaze trained firmly on your food. “The prince of Kremnos. Is he well?”

“You’re asking after his health?” your husband said with a chuckle. When you did not laugh or otherwise indicate that you were joking, he frowned at you. “You needn’t fret. As you requested, I am treating him as well as I am able. Far better than he deserves.”

The image of the prince, chained and kept in darkness, the only sound his persistent cough and unsteady breathing, given scraps for sustenance and mice for company, flashed across your mind. 

“I wish to see him,” you said. There was a warning in the back of your head — duty, obedience, docility — but you ignored it as best as you could, stabbing oversharp fingernails into your thighs, hard enough to draw blood and distract you from the dangerous line you tread. “My lord, I wish to see the prince and ensure that he is alright with my own eyes.”

At this your husband did not even pretend to humor you. He burst into a raucous fit of cackles, his fork and knife clattering to the table, his eyes watering at the corners. You waited for him to stop, picking your own cutlery up in vain before setting it down and folding your hands in your lap.

“No,” he said. “I am afraid that I cannot allow that, dear lady.”

“You cannot—” you began, but it was too much, you had stepped over that precarious boundary, and now you were frozen. Gulping, you counted to five before continuing. “He is mine. He is mine, you said it yourself, so why — can’t — I — see — him?”

Each word dug into you like gravel, and you knew that you had lost this argument before you could even attempt to have it. How could you ever win? When you had sworn thrice over that you would be tractable, how could you ever try to be anything else? Your intentions did not matter as much as the execution, not to the number three and the power it lent this empire.

“How obstinate,” your husband said, appraising you with a new eye. “I am sorry, dear lady, but as my cousin said, you are still weak. It will do you no good to be faced with such a base creature. You can see him again on the day of his execution.”

“Yes,” you said through gritted teeth, which was not as much as you wanted to do but was as much as you could, at present, manage. “Might I be excused?”

“Excused? You haven’t eaten anything,” he said, pointing at your plate. True to his word, it was untouched, and you picked it up, holding it close to your chest as you stood. 

“My stomach is protesting,” you said. “I will take it to my room and eat it later. If it pleases you.”

“Very well,” he said, waving at you. “I shall pray for your health, dear lady. Sleep as late as you’d like tomorrow, but once you are awake, I implore you to join me in my preparations. There is a grand celebration in the afternoon, as a marker of our victory against Kremnos, and I have been summoned to speak; if you could muster some words as well, it might hearten the people and warm them to you.”

“Yes, my lord,” you said. “I shall think of something.”

“See to it that you do,” he said, watching you with an unreadable expression on his face as you left, your footsteps growing faster and faster until you were all but racing to your room, your head spinning and palms clammy like you had gotten away with some great crime. 

Tonight, there were no strange voices beckoning you, but that did not stop you from staying awake far past the moon’s rise, waiting until it hung over the clocktower before picking your way back to the cellar, your heart pounding as you crept back down those dark, endless stairs, an actual lantern in one hand and your plate in the other.

The prince was still there. You had half-expected him to have disappeared, to have turned out to be some figment of your imagination, but he was leaning against the wall, his arms folded over his chest and his lips pursed as he watched the light of your lantern approach. When he realized it was you, his eyes narrowed, and he tucked his chin to his chest in what you could only assume was a stubborn display of the meager strength he had left.

“I brought food for you,” you said, setting the lantern on the last stair and presenting the plate before you. “Please eat it.”

“What do you think I am?” he said. “Some kind of a dog, such that I am eager for  you to foist your refuse on me? Hardly. Take it and leave me at once.”

“You’ll waste away,” you said. “You are only doing yourself a disservice! This is my own dinner, which I have gone without so that I could bring it to you. Does that make it easier to stomach?”

“Shall I sit on the floor, then, and eat it with my hands?” he said with a disparaging smile. “Will that amuse you? Is that why you’ve come? I heard your husband, you know. ‘Do what you’d like with him now that he is yours.’ How joyless your life must be, to think that this is what you entertain yourself with!”

“It is joyless,” you bit back, and your eyes widened at the freedom of the declaration. “It is! But you are not my — you are not some kind of amusement, I resent that you — I even spoke against my husband for you, and you say that! Fine, then. Starve, you thoughtless simpleton! Starve and die for all the good it’ll do me!”

You turned on your heel and stomped towards the stairs with the graceless irascibility of a child, not even sparing a glance over your shoulder at the prince. He was quiet, but you knew from the heavy weight of his stare on your back that there was something like turmoil brewing in his mind, a turmoil which weakened your resolve with every step you took away from him.

It was to your credit that you made it all of the way to where the lantern was sitting before you wavered, your stride shortening until you halted in place. Scrunching up your face, wondering when you had developed this love for punishment, for strife and conflict, you allowed your shoulders to sag in acceptance.

“Dispose of this before anyone comes to see you,” you said, shoving the plate into his hands before he could protest. “I suppose it matters little how you do it, but you must, or else I will be convicted of treason, and where will that leave us? Imprisoned side by side and left to rot together.”

He did not respond until you were almost out of earshot entirely, and then he coughed. You could not tell whether it was to capture your attention or to clear his voice of any residual hesitance; regardless, he accomplished both objectives, as you lingered for a moment longer than you would’ve.

“Ten,” he said. “That’s how many times I could’ve killed you in the time you’ve been here. But I—”

You continued walking before you could hear the rest of it.

You woke up the next day in better spirits than you had in some time, and in fact when a servant announced that you had a visitor, you opened the door with a new vigor. Upon realizing that the man in front of you was not your husband but rather his cousin, you thought that you might die from the glee of it all. Taking his arm, you allowed him to escort you to where the imperial contingent was setting up for the festival, at a grand stage which took up most of the square and was already laden with visitors at its base.

“It is a relief to see you recovering so well,” your husband’s cousin said. “The rumors in the palace are that you’ve contracted some illness of the chronic variety; in truth I believed them, especially after our meeting yesterday, but today I see that you have been revitalized. Did you rest well last night, then? I heard that you did not eat your dinner, but you must’ve taken it in your room, yes?”

You had done neither of those things, and his questioning did make you pause. What was the cause of your good mood? You had gone to sleep for only a short time, without much of anything in your stomach, and your situation had not improved any, so why did you feel, even if only marginally, as if you were something like yourself again?

“I suppose it must be something like love,” he mused, without waiting for your answer. 

“Ah, pardon?” you said, startled from the winding turns and byways of your thoughts at the strange declaration.

“To think that even a day in your husband’s presence has cured you to such an extent,” he explained. “Surely it is love? I cannot think of any other name for it…but I apologize! It is not my place to inquire, nor to speculate. I trust you will not tell my cousin about this?”

He had, in the taken-aback blink of your eyes and the pinch of your brow, found what he was seeking: a demure shyness which he could only comprehend as a lack of affection. You knew, then, that you had passed the test of the man, who had not believed any more than your husband that you were truly ill.

“I will take your leave,” he said, and then his palm clamped down on your shoulder. “But I trust you know this: however much you may love your husband, he is a difficult man to be loved by in return. If ever you are in search of solace…there are places you may turn to, dear lady.”

“What did he say to you?” your husband said, appearing at your side with his expression arranged into something like a frown. “I could not hear. Was he bothering you? I am sorry if he was. He has always been headstrong.”

“He was not bothering me,” you said, incapable of lying to your husband with any great skill but remaining certain that it was absolutely imperative you did not divulge his cousin’s secrets to him. “We spoke as family members might.”

If he recognized your evasive language, he did not comment on it. Instead, he stroked his chin in thought, and then he directed his attention towards the stage, where one of his generals was beckoning him — and, by extension, you.

The sun hung high in the sky as you ascended to the podium, though its rays did not dare touch you, disguised in your husband’s shadow as you were. Your vows tied more than your tongue, after all; your entire being, everything but your heart and your mind, were trained and twisted into the picture of submission, and soon those, too, would fall, leaving you a husk which could do nothing but nod and follow along.

Your husband did not need to start with any address. His mere presence was enough to silence the gathered empire, every single onlooker leaning towards the stage in eager anticipation of his words. From your vantage point, it was like the swell of a tide, crushing and suffocating, inescapable in its overwhelming intensity, but where you withdrew, your husband brightened at the weight, lifting his head and squaring his shoulders.

“Mydeimos,” he said, over-enunciating every syllable. The word, unfamiliar and foreign to your ears, had a rhythmic, marching cadence, more suited to a battle-cry than a formal declaration, and it seemed you were not alone in your thinking, for it had all the effect of one on the crowd.

A heckling clamor burst from them, the individual words indecipherable but for brief snippets. Demon. Monster. Warmonger. Kill. Curse. Blood. Kill. Kill. Kill! Your husband waited for them to quiet of their own volition, and only then did he venture to continue, this time with a wide, beaming grin.

“Mydeimos has fallen. The prince of terrors is no more!” he shouted, raising his fist in the air to thunderous applause. “Without him to lead the army, Kremnos will surely follow suit. Their lands will be ours within the year, of this much I assure you! Our empire will soon be the most prosperous in all the world. Even the great lands of the Southern Sea will pale in comparison!”

Your heart twinged at the mention of the Southern Sea. You could envision it even now, the streaks of salt left on the cliffs where the water lapped at them, the ripples in the placid blue where the balmy winds skimmed along the surface, the moon-white sand as it clung to the crevices of your feet and hands.

When you were younger, your father would take you on his boat and dip his fingers into it, urging you to do the same. You would ask him why and he would answer, always with a laugh or a smile: of all the jewels in my treasury, my darling, the Southern Sea is the second-loveliest. Then you would ask him which could be the first, if even the sea was not its equal, and he’d press his damp hands to your cheeks and kiss your hair and say you, my darling, you and only you.

“What a horrible thing he was,” your husband said. “Mydeimos. That wretched excuse of a man…the world is all the better now that he is locked away. I watched him — watched him, good citizens, with my own eyes — tear out a man’s heart with naught but his nails and teeth! Even now I can imagine it…the tips of his canines dark with pierced flesh…bits of entrails coating his fingers…the heart still beating in his palms…he looked the proper part of a devil, and I was certain that I had died and found damnation!

“But as I said, he is no more. Our army prevailed, as we always have, and as we always will; I made Mydeimos beg for mercy with my sword at his throat and my foot upon his inhuman heart, and then I dragged him back so that all of you could see what he has been relegated to — a chained puppy, given to my dear lady as a pet and kept as a servant until the day of his execution.

“For the surest way to kill a Kremnoan is to destroy their pride, and the prince of terrors has more pride than most, so we must endeavor to strip him of it, systematically and fastidiously, until even a child can cut him down!”

Your husband concluded his speech and pulled you forward simultaneously, with a great flourish which invited praise and drew attention to you both. You swallowed, your mind racing at breakneck speed, far too quickly for you to make any sense of the things you were saying until you were saying them.

“I have not seen the prince of Kremnos — Mydeimos — since the day that he was brought to me,” you said. The applause that had begun faded as soon as the soft words sparkled into existence, and the many eyes of the audience blurred together until you could pretend like you were alone, like you were speaking to nothing but small, bright stones reflecting your own sentiments. “But as my lord husband said, he was proud. I feel as though I have never seen a man prouder. Even after his loss, he remained proud. Even with nothing else left, he clung to that pride, that assurance…I remember thinking to myself that it was, in its own way, admirable. That he was admirable.”

Your husband’s arm around your waist grew tighter with unspoken warning, though it needn’t have. You had said all that you wanted, all that you could, and now there was nothing left but the judgement of the collective.

“Lady!” someone shouted, the singular soul brave enough to speak. She was a woman — you wondered if this was what bolstered her confidence, a perceived kinship between the two of you for that fact alone. “Do you fear the prince?”

“No,” you said, and although you had meant it only as a vague and empty placation, you were surprised to find that it rang true. You were not afraid of him, and it wasn’t his chains or his infirmity which caused this emotion to surge in you; rather, it was what he had told you last night, that declaration he had made with the utmost of seriousness, which you had not even allowed him to complete. “I am not. He cannot harm me.”

You knew your words would be interpreted as faith in your husband and the empire, and furthermore that this misinterpretation would curry favor with your subjects and your lord alike, so you did nothing to correct it. Yet you would know, and would hold close to your heart the knowing, that it was not your husband who you held faith in: it was Mydeimos, the prince of Kremnos, who might’ve killed you ten times over but had instead let you live.

“You have much to improve in terms of your orating,” your husband said coldly as the three of you — him, his cousin, and yourself — returned to the palace.

“I thought her speech was excellent,” his cousin said, shooting you a sly smile behind his back. “Very concise, and of a good style. It’s a gift to be able to convey meaning so succinctly. You ought to nurture it.”

“She certainly conveyed a meaning,” your husband said. “It remains to be said what value that meaning truly holds.”

“Is that for you to decide? Ah, brother, don’t be a curmudgeon, I am only teasing you! You spent so much of our childhood poking fun at me, so how can you fault me for paying you back in kind?” his cousin said.

“You need some lessons in respect,” your husband said, but without any real bite behind it. His cousin snickered before sobering, shifting his weight toward you.

“Will you take your dinner in your chambers again, lady?” he said. You nodded.

“If it does not offend,” you said. 

“Do as you please,” your husband said. “Though I expect you’ll do that anyways, sworn to me or not. Isn’t that right, dear lady?”

You couldn’t think of any response which would be satisfactory, so you said nothing, allowing the two of them to escort you to your room, where you waited with bated breath until the night fell and you could return to the cellar.

The entire way down the stairs, you turned the name over in your mind, polishing it in the way waves polished driftwood, battering it with incessant worry until it shone, uncanny and unrecognizable. Mydeimos. Mydeimos. Mydeimos. The prince of terrors. The man who had torn a heart out with his teeth. What did it say of you, that you were making your way to exactly such a knave? With trepidation, of course, but what did it say that you were still doing it anyways? Perhaps very much, or perhaps very little.

“There is an odd pattern to your footsteps,” he said before you could even greet him. He stood as he always did, prepared for a battle that he would never again see. “Or perhaps it is your breathing, or something else entirely.”

“What do you mean?” you said, putting your lantern and the dinner down in the space between you both. “I walk and breathe as I always have, as others do.”

“I know you,” he said, disgust mingling with the barest traces of awe in his tone. “The door to this cellar opens frequently. All manner of men come to visit me, to mock me from their places at the bottom of the stairs, lambasting me from the safety of their distance. I recognize few, and  I remember fewer — nor do I have any great desire to — but when it is you, I know. From your very step, from the very creak of the door, I know. I cannot understand how or why, but I know.”

“My husband told me your name,” you said after a pause, when it became clear he was not expecting a reaction from you. Motioning towards the food in a gesture you hoped he took to kindly, you continued: “I did not ask him, but he mentioned it in passing, so naturally now I know it.”

“I see,” he said, and although his gaze flicked towards the ground, he did not move. You remembered, then, what else your husband had said in that speech of his, the vainglorious words echoing in your ears: for the surest way to kill a Kremnoan is to destroy their pride, and the prince of terrors has more pride than most, so we must endeavor to strip him of it, systematically and fastidiously, until even a child can cut him down!

“Mydeimos,” you said, and then you sat on the floor, which was made of a cold stone that shot chills down the backs of your legs. Resting your elbows atop your thighs and your chin in your hands, you blinked up at him. “That is what he called you. ‘The prince of terrors.’”

“How unimaginative,” he said, and you suppressed a shudder at his glare, which was baleful and acute as it settled upon you. “My-deimos. Many-terrors. Yes, that is my name, though that ridiculous nickname is of his own invention. The Kremnoans would laugh if they heard it.”

“He said that he watched you tear out a man’s heart with your nails,” you said, and then you glanced at his lips, simultaneously and unconsciously wetting your own with the tip of your tongue. “And your teeth.”

He bared those very teeth, white and glinting, in a barking laugh — as much an expression of warning as it was humor. “My teeth! Your husband is one for fiction.”

“And — and he spoke of how he defeated you,” you said. At this, anything resembling mirth vanished from Mydeimos, and he grew curiously immobile — you almost thought that you had frightened him into the grips of memory, but then you realized that he was not frozen as much as he was waiting.

“Did he?” he said. “And what did your husband say of my defeat, dear lady?”

“He  made you beg for mercy with his sword at your throat and his foot upon your inhuman — upon your heart,” you said, correcting yourself for the slip of the tongue, finding no merit in telling him about that particular detail. “And then he dragged you back here.”

The longer Mydeimos remained silent, the shallower your breaths became, a cold fist forming around your heart and squeezing, the muscles in your arms and legs contracting, protesting their inactivity. You needed to run. If you were wiser, if you had anything resembling self-preservation, you would run, would flee and hope that you were fast enough to make it to the stairs before he pounced. 

You supposed you lacked both wisdom and self-preservation in spades, for you remained on the floor, peering up at him and praying that he could not read your mind, could not comprehend the depths of your thoughts.

“So that is his story,” he said. “I should’ve known he wouldn’t tell his people the truth.”

“He made it up,” you said rhetorically.

“You don’t sound surprised,” he noted.

“It is not — it is not —” You gnawed on the inside of your cheek, trying to come up with some way to circumvent your wedding vows, some way you could impress upon him what you were trying to say. “When we were wed, it was said that I loved him madly and completely, that I bawled to my father until he allowed me to come here.”

“Then it is not his first time dabbling in such falsehoods,” Mydeimos completed. When you nodded, he snorted. “You cannot speak ill of him, can you? Is it magic?”

“In the way of this land,” you said with a shrug.

“What an emperor,” he said. “So he can neither bed his wife nor win his battles without the use of tricks and obfuscation? Where I come from, they have a word for those like that, but as it is foul, I will not trouble you with hearing it.”

“What do you mean?” you said. “Ah, not by the foul word…that is, what tricks do you refer to? If the story he told is inaccurate, then how did he really defeat you? For surely he must have, or else you would not be here.”

“He did not defeat me,” he said. “Believe it or not, but that is the truth.”

“How?” you pressed, for you had already eschewed wisdom once and did not mind doing so again.

For a moment, it was as if the sun shone down upon him again. You saw him as he was on the day he met you, or perhaps even before — the prince of Kremnos, sleek and powerful and indomitable, red marks blooming in place of the scars he would never receive, eyes ablaze in his hollow face, hair as wild and untamed as his spirit.

“He surrendered,” Mydeimos said, scowling. “Our numbers were smaller, but Kremnoans have never cared for things like odds. We were winning, indubitably we were winning, and your husband knew it as well as we did. They attacked us in our own territory, fought us with our own weapons…how could we have lost? We would’ve wiped them out, but your husband and his men raised their white flags, and so we ceased to attack them.

“I went to parley with them, to negotiate the terms of their surrender. In a show of goodwill, I agreed to your husband’s request to come unaccompanied. His men were exhausted, and I found it honorable that he was putting their wellbeing first, so I ignored my instincts and the warnings of my advisors, going forth alone, leaving my armor and weapons as I was instructed to.

“That was my mistake. I should never have expected honor from a serpent, whose nature it is to bite. The surrender was a ploy; I was met by hordes of guards, each with a spear pointed at my heart. Even then, I fought. Do not think I met my end willingly, dear lady — I fought and killed as many men as he threw at me. I could’ve killed them all, I would’ve killed them all, but right as I was about to, he threw these chains at me from the corner where he hid. It should not have worked, his aim and the strength behind it were both lacking, but it was as if the metal had a mind of its own, and before I knew it I was bound.”

“As I told you, they are thrice-blessed,” you said. “Divine. They long to fulfill their purpose, and will do anything to that end. If it defies the laws of nature, well, what are those laws compared to the ones who wrote them? Those men were only a distraction. Once my husband received these chains, there was nothing which could’ve changed your fate.”

“What sort of a god favors a man who feigns surrender?” Mydeimos said. “What kind of deity loves perfidy?”

“I have often asked myself the same questions,” you admitted, half-expecting yourself to be unable and closing your eyes in relief when you weren't. “Why is it that he is the one they champion? What justice is there in that? He must have been a saint in his past life, to be treated as he is. A saint, or a martyr, or something like that. Something wonderful to the point of deserving so many miracles in this next iteration of his.”

You chose your speech carefully, injecting as much resentment into it as was needed to convey to the prince what you really meant, but not enough that you seized up into inaction. Not enough that you strained against the hold that your vows held over you.

You heard him exhale, and at this, you allowed your eyes to flutter open once more, peeking up at him and immediately wishing you hadn’t.

Whatever had briefly rallied in him, whatever fervor and fire he had briefly regained…it was gone. It was gone, leaving him fractured and bereft, forlorn instead of fearsome, prisoner instead of prince. Your husband had done that to him. Your husband had destroyed him, as he had destroyed you, and it was this reflection of your own fate which tore at you the most.

Breaking off a piece of bread, you dipped it in the long-cooled sauce pooled in the corner of the plate, and, without a word, held it out to him. He eyed it suspiciously, and for a moment you thought he might refuse it. The beginnings of an argument bubbled to the surface, but it never had the chance to take shape — before your lips could so much as part, he knelt across from you and took your proffered hand by the wrist.

Holding it in place, his thumb digging into your pulse like a reminder that he didn’t want this, didn’t want to accept your help, he used his free hand to swipe the bread from your palm. Then, his brows heavy, low over his eyes with mistrust and reluctance, he shoved it into his mouth and ate it.

taglist (comment/send an ask to be added): @mikashisus @ivana013-blog @mizukiqr @shehrazadekey @simp-simp-no-mi @reapersan @casualgalaxystrawberry @secretive3amramenmaker [if your tag does not show up in grey, that means tumblr had an issue with it, sorry! sometimes it does that sadly]

[freehismindatnite]

confession.... i never liked the idea of ezra and thrawn being anywhere close to amicable in canon.

NOTE: IF YOU LIKE THE FANON VERSION, GOOD FOR YOU! I LIKE IT TOO! IM NOT HATING ON YOU! Also this is not about Thrawn, this is about Ezra's thought process. This is about mainly some people saying that "oh why didn't Ezra stay with Thrawn" (Star Wars tiktok and twitter is a weird place with many rabbit holes)

Point one: Ezra is still pretty hot headed, he's not crashing out with a sith holocron but even in S1 he easily got angry. He's just been separated from his family, his planet, and is stuck alone surrounded by his enemies. I do honestly think that he absolutely thought he was supposed to die like Kanan there, or thought he'd be able to hitch a ride back with the purrgil (Peridea is like idk man both an elephant graveyard and their home??? Im done w star wars lore)

Point two: He does not like Thrawn. He's away from his family, and stuck with the man who helped oppress his planet, stole Hera's kalikori, facilitated the torture of Hera and to him, is a big reason that Kanan is dead. He absolutely was not about to go on Wild Space adventures with Thrawn.

Point three: Even if Thrawn made contact with the Chiss, I don't think Ezra would have gone with them at all. Ezra is really narrow minded and thinks in black and white when he's stressed, (and he's also like fucking 17) he probably reasons that if he goes, he's going to get tortured. Even if Eli showed up, Ezra still wouldn't go. Ezra perceives all Imperials as evil (which is a fair mindset, they supported and engaged in fascism). And Ezra is not trusting some random human.

Do I think the Ahsoka show was the pinnacle of Star Wars? No. Do I think it was a good show? Also kinda no. But it's the most logical course of action of how Ezra and Thrawn would have played out (not really Thrawn but more Ezra running away from Thrawn.)

Anyways I love Ezra Bridger and I get annoyed when people misunderstand how he thinks and works :3

[fishyfishyfishtimes]

What Is and Isn't a Fish: a List

A list of the animals I discussed in my fish essay, but for those who don't want to scroll through paragraphs of text to find out if an animal is or isn't a fish. Just CTRL+F your way through here!

I'll add onto here more animals whenever I get asked about them being fish. See my fish essay here!

Some notes before you proceed:

Yes, all tetrapods are fish! We are phylogenetically fish, as we are and our ancestors were lobe-finned fish! "Fish" in the phylogenetic sense is a paraphyletic group if you try to exclude tetrapods, so it is frankly impossible.

How come tetrapods aren't listed as fish then? Long answer, read my essay. Short answer, me and other fish accounts tend to operate on the morphological definition of fish, so does most of the world. Here I use the morphological definition of "fish".

Fish:

Jawless fish

Hagfish

Lamprey

Cartilaginous fish

Sharks

Dogfish

Whale shark

Chimaeras/Chimeras/Ghost sharks

Ratfish

Ray

Stingray

Skate

Ray-finned fish

Teleosts

Catfish

Eels

Moray eel

Seahorse

Sea dragon

Lobe-finned fish

Coelacanth

Lungfish

Not Fish:

Crustaceans

Krill

Shrimp

Crab

Crayfish/Crawfish/Crawdad

Lobster

Spiny lobster

Triops

Mantis shrimp

Barnacle

Isopod

Copepod

Shellfish

Mollusks/Molluscs

Gastropods

Sea snail

Sea slug

Snails and slugs in general

Sea angel

Sea hare

Sea bunny

Cephalopods

Octopus

Squid

Cuttlefish

Nautilus

Inkfish

Bivalves

Clam

Mussel

Scallop

Oyster

Chiton

Chelicerates

Horseshoe crab

Sea spider

Water mite

Diving bell spider

Cnidarians

Jellyfish/Sea jelly/Jelly

Coral

Sea anemone/Anemone

Siphonophores

Portugese man o' war

Echinoderms

Sea cucumber

Sea pig

Feather star

Sand dollar

Sea biscuit

Sea cookie

Brittle star/Serpent star

Sea urchin

Starfish/Sea star

Comb jelly

Lancelet

Tunicates

Sea squirt

Salp

Annelids

Bristle worm

Bobbit worm

Spoon worm

Giant tube worm

Bone-eating worm

Sea mouse/Sea mice

Feather duster worm

Christmas tree worm

Leech

Flatworm

Amphibians

Salamander

Amphiuma

Mudpuppy/Mud puppy

Waterdog

Olm

Axolotl

Siren

Frog

Toad

Tadpole

Caecilian

Reptiles

Sea snake

Water snake

Snakes in general

Sea krait

Turtle

Snapping turtle

Softshell turtle

Sea turtle

Terrapin

Marine iguana

Crocodilian

Crocodile

Alligator

Caiman

Gharial

Bird

Penguin

Seagull

Loon

Swan

Mammals

Whale

Orca

Baleen whale

Toothed whale

Dolphin

River dolphin

Porpoise

Narwhal

Beluga whale

Sperm whale

Pinniped

Seal

Sea lion

Leopard seal

Elephant seal

Walrus

Sirenian

Manatee

Sea cow

Dugong

Otter

Sea otter

Beaver

Hippo

Platypus

Muskrat

Water shrew

[pinyeti]

EPISODE 6: RETURN OF THE JEDI

Is it just me or have they just not explained the Death Star properly?

I cant take Darthy seriously anymore, he’s just a bag of organs 

Whats quirrel doing here

OMG ELEPHANT SNAKE IS BACK

Isnt this that old caterpillar from Alice n wonfderlad

WOW LUKE REALLY SUITED UP FOR HIS MESSAGE- DID HE JUST SELL???? GOLDENFACE AN R2-oh right Hans in the carbon - way to go to the dark side Luke, triangular droid trade YOU ARE YOUR FATHERS SON LUKE 

So much of Star Wars is just running into the problem with a glowstick and hoping it dies

Wow hansolo has been imprisoned, thrown into garbage, tortured, thrown into carbon, imprisoned AGAIN all cuz he has can’t shut my mouth disease

What even is their relationship with Luke btw, are they his adopted fWOAH WOAH WOAH WHEN DID LUKE TURN INTO A MAN??? Last I saw he was a child who couldn’t get a plane out of a lake AND THEY LEFT THE LAST MOVIE WITH ALL OF THTEM BEING TOGETHER wow the text in the beginning is more important than I thought 

No seriously why is Luke dressed like a pastor whats going on

WOAH GOLD BIKINI LIEA - OKAY STORY TIME I USED TO WATCH PRINCESS RAP BATTLES AS A CHILD AND THE ONE I SAW WITH LEIA IN IT SHE SAID “I wore a gold bikini and the whole world lost its shit” ANF NOW I KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS

Ok yoda we get it you’re 900 no ones talking about your wrinkles anyway with pastor Luke in the room, projecting much?

Is yoda suidicdal???

WDYM LUKE IS REaDY???? HE DIDNT DO ANYTHING TO BE READY EXCEPT FLY FACEFIRST INTO A MILITARY BASE HIS TRAINING ARC IS SO SHIT

 Whos the other Skywalker?? lukes not even a Skywalker isnt his name Luke vader where’s skywalkers real son OH darthy’s deadname is skywalker

BABY WONKENOBIII IS BACKCKCKC-OMGWHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK WDYM LEIAS LUKES SISTER WDYM HE SUSPECTED THIS AFTER MAKING OUT WITH HER FIFTY BILLION TIMES??? WHAT THE HELL

??? HELLO>>??? WHAT TH EHELL??? WHAT IN THE GAME OF THRONES IS GOING ON??????? How is Leia a princess then?? HahahahaHAHAHA SO YODA KNEW …… ABOUT THEIR LITTLE TRIANGLE

Nice the gang is back together, waiting for chewbakka to be revealed as darthy’s next offspring

YES YES GOLDENFACE GETTING THE RESPECT HE DESEREVEVVES I LOVE GOLDENFACEEE

I cant believe these are the idiots the emperors trying to kill

"yes I could sense you were my brother when my tongue was down your throat"

Oh yes Luke hands himself over- haha darthy sensitive over dead name 

Luke youre so stupid- but since jedis cant die is he gonna go to wherever yoda and obi wan is 

Lando is growing on me, also squid guy

This movie is gonna end with emperor and Luke dead isnt it

Is the emperor a jedi too how else does he have power or something something Sith

Id make a horrible jedi- im made of hatred

Hansolo my pathetic little idiot

I JUST REALIZED WHO LUKE EP6 REMINDS ME OF - TROY BOLTON

IS HE BEGGING DARTHY TO KILL HIM WTF

You’re telling me this big of an empire cant take down 6 idiots lead by a happy go lucky guy, never heard of this before

OHMYGOSSDDHD. LYKE YOU IDIOT NOW HE KNOWS ABOUT LEIA

Hahahah a hand for a HAND- wait what…. Why does he have a robo hand too whats going on 

Luke stop acting like you didnt hear about jedis 5 secs ago

Aw does darthy have a heart among his organs

OHMYGOD DARTHY IS A GOOD GUY????? ????? What A VILLAIN TTURNS GOOD ITS BEEN AGES SINCE I SAW A VILLAIN COME OVER TO THE GOOD SIDE

OMG DARHTY FACE REVEAL

Oh damn hes not as ugly as I thought he’d be

Kinda cute even - bro how did he even get this weak why’s he dying rn 

He has such kind eyes

Yeah ok I am so lost I NEED DARTH VADER BACKSTORY RIGH FUCKIN NOW

Is the empire this easy to penetrate? No but they did it with the power of lOVE and FRIENDSHIP 

Love lando 

YES HAN THATS THE REACTION I HAD AN HOUR AGO ACTUALLY WTF

Yes Luke its so sad your daddy that blew up an entire planet in ONE second without a single thought died IM NOT FORGIVING HIM THIS EASY

No way thats it??? They took down the empire just like that???? What??

Damn no one in this world can dance

OHMYGOD ANAKIN???? HOW CAN HE SEE THEM NOW??? IS IT CUZ HES BETTER AT WEILDING THE FORCE

ok fine anakin is cute

(3/9)

[enbysiriusblack]

marauder characters letterboxd top 4:

sirius- hereditary, the elephant man, i'm thinking of ending things, nope

james- star wars: a new hope, airplane, popstar: never stop never stopping, superbad

remus- good will hunting, moonlight, the secret garden, before sunrise

peter- superman, the karate kid, star wars: a new hope, hereditary

lily- moonrise kingdom, fantastic mr fox, dune, star trek: the motion picture

mary- when harry met sally, how stella got her groove back, notting hill, uptown girls

marlene- shrek, lost & delirious, weird al: the al yankovich story, bottoms

emmeline- clueless, the favourite, portrait of a lady on fire, the age of innocence

dorcas- love lies bleeding, kneecap, the incredibly true adventure of two girls in love, kinds of kindness

[violetyakumo]

Flags & Chuuya Writing Prompts

@bonne-chanson Here you go, some ideas for the Flags, Chuuya, and the reader :D Everyone else feel free to use them as well, enjoy!

(Sfw) As a group:

Game night - board games, billiards, arcade games, etc.

Amusement park or aquarium trip - Yokohama Cosmo World, Disney, Universal, Tokyo Sea Life Park, Sumida Aquarium, etc.

Escape rooms - Who figured it out easily? Who's going to kick down the door? Who sits back and watches the chaos unfold? Who is the one causing all the chaos?

Secret Santa or White Elephant gifts - Who gives the weirdest gift? How about the funniest? Who wears the ugly Christmas sweater?

New Year's shrine visits - Who sleeps in because they're hungover from the night before? Who wakes up to watch the sunrise? What omikuji/fortunes do they get and their reactions to them?

Ice skating at the Tokyo Skytree Town - Who is good at it? Who falls on their ass? and who just stands back smugly and watches with a cup of hot chocolate?

Valentine's/White Day - What are the boys' reactions to receiving Valentine's Day chocolates from the reader? What are their return gifts for white day?

Cherry Blossom Viewing - A rare moment of peace and quiet for the Flags, Lippmann suggests they go enjoy the ephemeral beauty of the cherry blossoms.

Surprise birthday party - Who likes the attention? Who doesn't care for their birthday? The boys surprise the reader with a party, what gifts do they give? What kind of cake do they get for reader?

Live music shows - Who drags the group to an idol concert? How about a rock concert? Chuuya canonically likes music, what was his first experience with music that awoke that interest?

Movie night - What movie genres do they watch? Lippmann just starred in a new movie and wants to show off to the group, who enjoys it, and who comments every 5 minutes?

Karaoke - What songs do they pick? Who is a good singer? Who isn't? Who gets completely trashed and screams out the lyrics to their favorite song?

Yakatabune dinner cruise - dinner date anyone? Good food and unlimited drinks on a boat, what could possibly go wrong...

Family dinner at someone's apartment - a formal sit-down dinner where they pretend to be sane people. Can't you guys just be normal FOR 5 GODDAMN MINUTES?

Enjoying a festival together - Sneaking off with one of them, first kiss during the fireworks, who wins the most prizes?

Visiting Yokohama's Chinatown - Really good food here, apparently!

Visiting the Yokohama Cup Noodles museum - making your own custom cup noodles, who gets what toppings? Who steals from someone else's cup because their chosen toppings were gross? Doc is having an aneurysm from all this sodium and processed food, someone help him.

Nerf gun war - Albatross found some Nerf guns and makes it everyone else's problem. Who is allied? Who is betrayed?

Camping trip - Chuuya's first camping trip. Who is up for it and who is spending the whole trip wanting to go home?

Stormy day - There's a record storm system heading towards Yokohama, and Piano Man makes the executive decision to have everyone crash reader's apartment until the rain or snow lightens up and the power is restored again. Lucky (or unlucky) you!

Midnight Existential Crisis - Hurt/comfort, Reader has a breakdown and needs to be comforted by the group. What are each of the boys' ways to calm the reader down. Who offers a cig or a drink? Who takes them on a car/motorcycle ride? Who talks with them? Who listens silently and lets them vent?

Late-night talks - they open up to the reader about their dreams and regrets.

Exploring an abandoned building - Whether it's for a mission or just for fun.

Teasing - They all love teasing the reader, much to their annoyance.

Stray kitten/puppy - The newest member of the Flags has 4 paws and a fluffy tail. One of them found a stray and the entire group takes care of it. Just make sure Mori doesn't find out!

Survival IF scenario - Angst, The Flags are warned ahead of time about Verlaine's plot to kill them and they manage to survive the encounter. Unfortunately, the reader didn't get the same memo and did not make it. What are each of their reactions to the news? How do they grieve their death?

Port Mafia Cemetery - Angst, has anyone lost any loved ones/family?

Chuuya:

Undercover together - Reader and Chuuya pretend to be a couple for a mission. Lippmann's acting lessons didn't prepare Chuuya for this. His heart feels like it's about to beat out of his chest, and the act starts to feel real.

Caught in the rain - Summer (June/July) is the rainy season in Japan and sudden rain can appear out of nowhere and pass just as quickly.

Sparing Partners - A training session gets intense, he admires the reader's strength.

Jealousy - Reader teases him by getting close to one of the Flags or Dazai and Chuuya acts before realizing what he's doing.

Drinking for the first time - drunk words are sober thoughts, and Chuuya's been doing a lot of thinking about the reader.

Post-Corruption - How would reader help Chuuya out after using corruption for the first time.

First kiss - Reader and Chuuya have been together since their time with the Sheep, he's always had his eye on them.

Star gazing - Chuuya takes the reader stargazing high above the clouds with his ability, hope you aren't afraid of heights.

Lap pillow - after an exhausting mission, nothing is better than using your crush as a lap pillow. It can be either reader using Chuuya's lap or Chuuya using the reader's lap.

Albatross:

All-night partying together - Loud music, clubbing, bar hopping, your head is going to be pounding tomorrow morning but it's so worth it just to see his smile and hear his rambunctious laughter.

Going out for a motorcycle ride - Hold on tight he can go pretty fast.

Going to a car show - Yokohama has a custom hot rod meetup every year and this year Albatross is taking you with him to show off his handiwork to you and to brag to his car buddies about his cute new SO.

"It's almost done!" - he builds reader a custom bike.

He makes the reader a playlist - what songs does he include?

What anime/shows/movies does he watch with the reader?

Cooking together - Reader cooks and he attempts to. Albatross is swiftly exiled from the kitchen before he burns it down, but he adores your cooking.

Going on a mission together - he's the reader's bodyguard and getaway driver

Teasing reader - He loves to mess with the reader, but when someone else tries to do it he gets protective.

Nervous hands - his hands are always moving, always tinkering with something, but when he finally gets the courage to hold the reader's hand, he hesitates.

Extrovert and Introvert - reader is introverted and gets "adopted" by the extroverted Albatross. You're invited to every single party he hosts or is invited to, your phone is blowing up with texts from him all hours of the day, yet he doesn't pressure you to keep the conversation going. You're his BFF now, no takesie backsies.

Doc:

Treating the reader's injuries - he shows a moment of vulnerability, please stay safe out there, he has nightmares about you dying.

Take your medicine - he has to come up with some pretty creative ways to get the reader to take their medicine. The Flags are losing it, and giving him ridiculous suggestions like hiding the pills in peanut butter.

"You trust me, right?" - Emergency field surgery from Doc, reader gets badly injured when both of them are ambushed.

Nurse - Reader is one of his nurses, whether they were hired by him or taken into the mafia alongside Chuuya.

Helping him out - he's pretty sickly and would really appreciate the TLC, saving 2 million people is a lot of work. Give Doc a massage, cook for him, read out loud when he's sprawled out on the couch after a long shift, change his IV bag when it's empty, etc.

His past studies in North America - He opens up about his past to the reader and why he wants to be closer to closer to God. Is the reader familiar with the university he studied at (if the reader is a foreigner)?

Medical Experiments - He has a new treatment to test out and reader is his only willing test subject.

A reputation to maintain - He's one of the best physicians in the port mafia, and he does his best to play off his growing crush on the reader but when the guys start to pry into his behavior around you, he gets flustered.

Iceman:

Silent bodyguard - he's always following in the shadows, keeping reader safe. The reader is either oblivious to their new protector, or they know and decide to play dumb to mess with him.

Tactical training - he's too serious when training reader, the rest of the Flags make it into a joke.

Troublesome - he says he finds reader to be annoying, but his lingering gaze says otherwise. At first, he wonders why you hang around him, but he tolerates it. Then he warms up to you and starts to expect your company.

"I don't get attached" - Famous last words.

Names - you call each other by your first names when nobody else is around.

Comfortable silence - Both of you don't talk much and would much rather sit together in silence (and this drives Albatross highkey insane).

Tea/Coffee - he brews reader their favorite drink after a mission.

Imo he'd be great for a slow burn fic.

Lippmann:

"My muse!" - You're Lippmann's muse, and he wants you to star in his latest movie with him.

Matching outfits - Lippmann picked out reader's outfit and even did your hair, the rest of the Flags tease him about his "mini-me", the joke's on them though you look amazing.

Watching one of his movies together - He gives reader all the tea on what drama was going on backstage and tells you details about each scene that you would have otherwise missed on your first watch-through.

Conflicted - Being a high-profile celebrity has its downside, like the crazy fans. He wants to parade reader around and make you guys official but he's worried about how his fans would react to you.

Museum date - He takes the reader to an art museum and explains the beauty behind each piece.

Missions together - even when out on a job he can't help but be dramatic, much to reader's amusement and exasperation. When reader is actually in danger though, he drops the theatrics and gets Mafia Serious™.

Lippmann with a creative reader - The reader likes to do various creative activities like drawing, painting, sculpting, playing music, writing, dancing, etc. He admires anything and everything you do.

"You're not watching" - Conversely, what about a reader who doesn't care much for the arts. He's determined to make you understand the worth of a film or a play to the reader by acting out a scene with the reader. Or: they don't pay attention during one of his films and he is trying to get their attention back on him.

Stage fright - Lippmann teaches the reader about how to overcome stage fright and helps them own their performance.

Piano Man:

Welcome gift - iirc when a new member joins the port mafia they get a piece of clothing. Pianoman just so happens to be the one to make such a gift to the reader.

Billiards - Reader plays a game of pool with him.

In Sync - Both of you are sent on a dangerous mission together and you work together perfectly, anticipating each other's moves, wordlessly communicating what to do next, a fine dance.

"You're distracting" - He's busy making new notes but every little thing the reader does pulls his attention away from his work. Be careful though, his attention flits between many things but his undivided attention is dangerous.

Smoke break - a cigarette break after a job turns unexpectedly deep as he reflects on his time in the mafia and his history with the reader.

Sense of humor - Reader and Piano Man scheme and come up with bad jokes to share with the Flags, doing 1000 points of psychic damage to everyone in the room with dad jokes and using memes incorrectly.

Piano - If he knows how to play piano, the reader loves watching his hands as they move over the keys, he catches them staring and smirks.

Piano pt 2 - He writes a piece just for the reader.

Piano pt 3 - The reader catches him playing late at night by himself when he thinks no one is listening.

Perfection takes time - He's inspecting his latest batch of supernotes and rejects any that don't meet his impossible standards. He talks to the reader about how art takes time and can't be rushed.

Hurry up - He missed another deadline, and nobody dares rush him, except the reader.

"You think you're clever" - Reader manages to outmaneuver him in an argument, and he's equal parts impressed and annoyed.

How amusing - Reader is the only one who can match his unpredictability.

Professionals have standards - He's a mafioso who insists on doing things with elegance and style, at the same time he discusses murder over afternoon tea with the reader. Duality of man...

(Nsfw) As a group:

Test of Loyalty - "You're ours", the reader learns a lesson in loyalty to the mafia.

Power struggle - Some of the guys don't like not being in control and that leads to a power imbalance. They'll have to show the others who the reader really belongs to.

Wine-induced teasing - A little too much to drink during a celebration leads to teasing that the reader can't ignore.

Outnumbered - overstimulation, the reader made a bet or a joke that they can take all of them on and had to prove it.

Training gone too far - A sparing session turns into a test of endurance. Or: You'll need to learn how to use more than just your brain if you ever hope to extract information from enemy organizations.

The aftermath - The contrast between their rough treatment and gentle aftercare.

No Chuuya because he babby

Albatross:

Workshop shenanigans - When the reader visits him in his workshop, one thing leads to another and now they're bent over his workbench. Try not to get caught.

"Haha, my bad!" - He'll tease the reader to get them close to the edge but enough to be satisfying. Then acts innocent when reader tries to get revenge.

Addiction - He didn't mean to get hooked on the reader, but now he can't stop coming back for another hit.

Doc:

Stay still - The way he handles the reader during a physical exam makes them wonder if he's always this gentle.

Heartbeat - When he's checking the reader's vitals during an exam, he notices their heart rate is elevated and it's not due to an illness.

Doctor's Orders - He's usually composed but when the reader disobeys his orders, he'll have no choice but to punish them.

Iceman:

"Testing my patience" - He's been holding back for so long, but reader keeps pushing his limits until one day he's finally had it. Or: when it comes to others he has infinite patience, but when it comes to the reader his patience is as thin as paper.

Pinned - Iceman pins the reader against a wall, and the reader realizes just how powerful he is despite not having an ability.

"Earn it" - He makes reader work for every little bit of affection he gives until he decides to give everything all at once.

Lippmann:

"Say my name" - Lippmann loves the sound of his own name, and hearing the reader say it is something else entirely.

No audience - He drops his act, and for a few priceless moments, it's just him and you.

"You look perfect in this light" - When reader is under him, completely undone, they look stunning in his eyes.

Piano Man:

Wires - He ties the reader up with his piano wires.

In control - He's always the one in command and you're going to follow his rhythm.

"Not so cocky now, are you" - reader wipes that confident smirk off his face.

There you go, have fun!

[abigailspinach]

You can always tell it’s something when some ‘Star Wars’ fans try to say, ‘Well, we had Lando Calrissian and had Samuel L. Jackson!’ It’s like telling me how many cookie chips are in the cookie dough. It’s like, they just scattered that in there, bro.

They’re okay with us playing the best friend, but once we touch their heroes, once we lead, once we trailblaze, it’s like, ‘Oh my God, it’s just a bit too much! They’re pandering,'” the actor added, while also acknowledging that being cast in the franchise was a “fundamental moment” in his career.

Boyega first aired his grievances to GQ magazine in 2020 about Disney’s fumbling of diversity in his “Star Wars” trilogy. He said at the time: “What I would say to Disney is do not bring out a Black character, market them to be much more important in the franchise than they are and then have them pushed to the side. It’s not good. I’ll say it straight up.”

You guys knew what to do with Daisy Ridley, you knew what to do with Adam Driver,” Boyega continued. “But when it came to Kelly Marie Tran, when it came to John Boyega, you know fuck all. So what do you want me to say? What they want you to say is, ‘I enjoyed being a part of it. It was a great experience…’ Nah, nah, nah. I’ll take that deal when it’s a great experience. They gave all the nuance to Adam Driver, all the nuance to Daisy Ridley. Let’s be honest. Daisy knows this. Adam knows this. Everybody knows. I’m not exposing anything.”

Boyega later revealed to THR that a Disney executive reached out to him following his GQ interview. He said he had “a very honest, a very transparent conversation” with the Disney executive and added: “There was a lot of explaining on their end in terms of the way they saw things. They gave me a chance also to explain what my experience was like. I’d hope that me being so open with my career, at this stage, would help the next man, the guy that wants to be the assistant DOP, the guy that wants to be a producer. I hope that the conversation is not such a taboo or elephant in the room now, because someone just came and said it.”

[elderemorune]

Beautiful IF.

This evening, my wife and I went to see a movie. This isn't anything unusual, we love the theater, and will take any excuse we can to go when she has time. Last we were able to get out just the two of us, it was to see Lisa Frankenstein, which I wholly recommend by the way. It was great, feminist as fuck, and frankly (see what I did) fun as hell.

But that's not why I'm here tonight.

Tonight, we're here for John Krasinski's IF.

IF is a movie that's part of a rare genre. The Family Film. You know, the kind that came out when millennials were children, like The Addams Family, or Hocus Pocus. A movie made for everyone to enjoy.

Now this is probably confirmation bias, since most of the fandoms I'm in are serious business, or at least they think they are, and such most of what I watch is grim, dark, or otherwise edgy. I won't deny being an edge marquis, I've been one since middle school and I'm not stopping now!

This movie, simply put, is beautiful. As we start to see more and more art about fighting (or subliminally supporting) fascism, it's like we shy away from beauty and instead want to focus wholly on how dark things are for us. And with a constant barrage of messaging like that, it's hard to stay hopeful, easy to stay mad.

Then we get a movie like IF. It takes a look at life through the most hopeful lens it can, a kid's. I don't want to get too into the story because my roommate reads this and I want them to see this as blindly as they can, but I'll tell you this: IF wants you to know that it's okay to be a kid.

But what does that mean? To be a kid? Is it to engage in wild flights of fancy where you imagine great, impossible things like an elephant made of cotton candy? Is it using play to cope with hard times? To be innocent? What is innocence anyway?

IF isn't trying to answer those questions at all. All IF cares about is that you know that it's okay to be a kid, no matter what.

For a super spoiler-free quick rundown, IF follows the adventures of Bea as she tries to help place imaginary friends (IFs) with new kids and find a new sense of purpose. Imagine (heh) Foster's Home for Imaginary (heh) Friends, but age Mac up a year and have her partner be a big furry purple guy (Hey! Like Eduardo!) named... Blue? Is this possibly an... GASP! AN EASTER EGG RIGHT THERE?! The big difference is that imaginary friends can't really be seen by anyone, except Bea and this other guy, Calvin. We'll talk about him later.

So let's talk about the rest of the movie, because there's not much more I can say without spoilers.

Just look at this man. He's distinct. You know EXACTLY what he's about, who he is, everything you need, just from looking at him.

And the same holds true of every other IF that you see (and don't) on screen. The team that worked on them did an immaculate job, perfectly capturing a child's imagination and how they see the world around them in these funny lil guys. Like how Blue is purple because his kid was colorblind, so he looked blue TO HIS KID, and how the robot IF was the kind of thing that a kid fond of taking things apart might imagine as their friend. Their personalities are all so clear, and when they're on screen they really steal the show.

Speaking of theft, let's talk the casting. Cailey Fleming plays Bea and gosh is her performance just the tops. Her first onscreen part was as young Rey in Star Wars: The Force Awakens (which I didn't watch because I just don't care much for Star Wars). This is the first place I've seen her work, and I one hundred percent believed she was actually John Krasinski's daughter.

Who, by the way, plays her dad. A lovable goofball who tries to find the fun in everything, he's sick (though we're never told with what) and is in New York for surgery. It's a big one, apparently, and there's a chance he won't wake up from the anesthesia, but he's determined to make it through. Really, what can I say about Krasinski's acting that fans of The Office haven't already said? This guy is the kind of dad I want to be when I eventually have kids.

Steve Carell voices Blue, the big purple IF on the poster. Sure, I guess if I had A critique of this movie, it's that it's another Steve Carell Funny Voice(TM) but fuck off, I had fun and it was clear he loved the project. I loved Blue, I thought he was funny and so sweet, and he was just so goddamned lovable that I genuinely had no notes.

Last, and he'd probably say least, Ryan Reynolds plays Calvin, a very handsome gentleman who can also see the IFs like Bea can. He started the effort to rehome IFs with new kids, but hasn't had much success at the time the movie starts. He's a bit of a curmudgeon, pessimistic that anything they do will work, and refers to his ability to see them as a curse, but he still does everything he can to help Bea place IFs in new homes. While still your typical wise-cracking Ryan Reynolds character, it was interesting to see him playing a character who's not about diving into things headfirst, instead giving us a more timid person who would really rather be asleep.

The cast all worked exceptionally well together. As I said, I came out of this movie truly believing that Fleming was Krasinski's daughter, and the chemistry between her and Reynolds was amazing. They really felt like friends, and I never once felt like their relationship was weird in any way. Carell and Fleming were also delightful together, with Blue serving as wonderful comedy relief.

Lastly, I guess is the score, right? I'm new to caring about this, so forgive me if I forget an important part.

Music was done by Michael Giacchino, who's score was frankly perfect. He captured the vibe perfectly, and I can honestly think of no higher praise for a film score. In particular, there was a scene that really hit me, and if the Adagio of Spartacus and Phrygia hadn't been the song used, I'm not sure I'd have cried near as hard.

So that's it. IF. A beautiful movie, a poignant message, and something that I think everyone could benefit from seeing.

Because what IF it's right? And it IS okay to be a kid?

That means anything is possible, doesn't it? What IF you COULD have a cotton candy elephant? Or a small army of Bionicle robots who are fiercely loyal to you as you lead them across Mata Nui to expunge the darkness? (Don't tell me you didn't do this. If you had Bionicle, you did this.)

What IF?

[eomereadig]

Snippet: Marking

The 7th and final fic for @212thappreciation!

Fandom: Star Wars

Pairing: Commander Cody/212th Battalion, Waxer/Commander Cody, Boil/Commander Cody

Rating: M

Tags: marking, hickies, sexual tension, semi-public sex, polyamory, open relationships, implied sexual content, possessive behaviour

Full fic now avaliable here

Multiple sets of eyes were fixed on the throat for the majority of the meeting – at times talking to Cody’s neck rather than the man himself. On his right, Waxer was the most obvious about it but even Fix wasn’t exactly subtle, either. His CMO’s gaze had been fixed (heh) on his Adam’s apple for the past ten minutes, eyes dark and almost unblinking. Each time Cody’s eyes landed on Barlex, the sergeant would look down at his neck and then back up to his face with a smirk, saying so much without a word.

Cody tried to ignore them as best he could as he continued. 

“…And so with the use of the mines, we were able to eliminate the outpost with minimal casualties and only a single squad in the air. The sector is now secure and we’re setting up our own outposts to keep it that way.”

“I see.” Obi-Wan nodded sagely. “It sounds like the mission proved invaluable for the war effort – you must pass on my thanks to Commander Wolffe, too… It’s good to have you back, Cody. I’ll leave you to get… reacquainted with everyone else and see you for the shift hand over later.”

When Obi-Wan’s lips quirked upwards, Cody’s thoughts ground to a halt. He kicked himself for not considering Obi-Wan’s use of the force in all of this. The tension in the air had been so thick that he’d probably been able to sense it without it. Cody didn’t so much as want to consider what else the Jedi might have been able to feel emanating from the clones. 

He tried not to wilt in embarrassment as knowing smiles were shared and more than a few officers shifted to readjust their codpieces. Obi-Wan made his excuses to make a swift exit after, leaving Cody alone with his brothers to address the elephant in the room. 

The charged silence that followed felt oppressive. And, as the most senior officer in the room, Cody’s first instinct was to think of a way to fill it, to ease the tension of his men. He needn't have bothered. 

The moment the door whooshed shut behind Obi-Wan, Cody was practically attacked. 

Having been the closest, it was Waxer who got his hands on him first, shoving him hard until his back collided with the wall. One hand fixed itself to his chest, pinning him there, while Waxer’s other came to his hip, sitting dangerously low. Cody tensed up as Waxer all but forced himself into his space, his body preparing for an unexpected fight.

Only none came.

Full fic now avaliable here

[bradshawsbaby]

Letters to My Love // Part VII

Auld Lang Syne

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Female Reader

Summary: When you signed up to volunteer with the USO, you never anticipated that you would meet a man like Ensign Robert Floyd. Fate brings you together one balmy spring evening in Charleston—the night before Bob is set to ship off across the Atlantic. Pen and paper become your only means of sharing your heart with the naval aviator who’s captivated it, igniting a correspondence that spans the distance between you. Can love blossom even as war rages and thousands of miles keep you apart?

Word Count: 2.8k

Author’s Note: We’ve finally made it to 1943! Can you believe it will soon be a whole year since the night Bobby and Peach met?

Set the Mood: If you’re looking for some 1940s vibes, check out the playlist I made to pair with the story.

To ring in the new year in the story, the title of this chapter is based on the holiday classic, Auld Lang Syne. To get in the spirit, check out this 1939 instrumental version by Guy Lombardo!

Dedication: As always, this story is dedicated to my dear friend, @luminousnotmatter​. Clara, thank you, thank you, thank you for your support of this story!

Warnings: Alternating POV, talk of the holidays, brief allusions to the trauma of war, references to rationing, and a ton of fluff.

January 12, 1943

Dear Peach,

Happy New Year! I know we’re only 12 days in at this point, but I hope that 1943 is already shaping up to be a good year for you. Hopefully it will be a good year for all of us. And I look forward to hearing all about your Christmas back home in Georgia!

Now to address that “elephant in the room” as you called it—well, Peach, I see no elephants, but I do see what has to be the most beautiful and elegant photograph I’ve ever had the good fortune to lay these sorry eyes on. Are you sure you really meant to send it to me and not to MGM? You could be a movie star! I wouldn’t be surprised at all if it was announced that their next big picture was starring The Sweet Peach from Georgia. Hey, maybe that could even be the name of the movie. What do you think?

Peach, I hope you know that I’m not teasing and I’m not kidding. And I hope my saying so doesn’t come across as forward, but you really are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, whether in the movies or in real life. Part of me was starting to wonder if maybe I’d dreamed it all up, that night we had together in Charleston. Could any girl really be that beautiful and kind and funny and smart, all wrapped up in one splendid person? But then I opened your last letter and your photograph fell out of the envelope, and I realized that sometimes real life can be even better than our dreams. Because you, Peach, are even more stunning than you were in my memories. And you know what makes it even better? That your beauty shines from the inside. Looking at your photograph, I can see all the kindness and gentleness and goodness that I’ve come to know so well, shining in your eyes and brightening your smile.

Gosh, am I rambling? I’m sure I am. But I don’t want you to feel embarrassed, not for a moment. And to think that you would even suggest I take a photograph this beautiful and shove it in a drawer or throw it off the carrier! That would be an absolute crime! It deserves to be framed and hung for everyone to admire. I admit that I’ve never seen the Mona Lisa, but I can already guarantee that you’re a thousand times prettier. But can I tell you the truth, Peach? As much as you deserve to be universally praised, I’ve been very selfish. The fellas are all quite jealous, you see, that the prettiest girl in the world has chosen to write to me, of all people. So I keep your photograph tucked close to my heart, away from all the guys. Don’t want to rub salt in the wound, you know?

Benny and Tommy Boy wanted me to respectfully let you know that you looked quite lovely in your photo, and that they’d be more than willing to serve as pen pals to any of your friends back home who may be in need of some correspondence.

Will you do me a favor and thank Dottie for this little scheme of hers? I knew that I liked your sister already, but this has truly solidified it for me. She’s a smart woman, that Dottie Sheridan. And I hope Frankie’s birthday pictures turned out just as nice as yours!

Can I tell you something else, Peach? We’ve been doing a lot of flying over here, me and Paul and the rest of our squadron, as I’m sure you can imagine. Paul keeps a photograph of Natasha and the kids in our aircraft when we’re flying. He says it brings him good luck and helps him remember what he’s fighting for. I like to keep a photograph of my family with me while we’re flying so that I can remember the same. But now I carry your photograph with me, too. And I think I understand now what Paul meant about his photo bringing him luck. Every time we’ve flown since I started carrying you with me, I feel this extra sense of protection. I know that sounds crazy, but it’s true. You’re my good luck charm, Peach, and I thank you for that. Thanks for helping me remember what I’m fighting for, every day that I’m here. And, hey—it’s sort of like we’re flying together already, right?

I was glad to hear that you enjoyed the pumpkin pie story, and that my utter humiliation could at least bring you some laughter. It’s funny that you should mention my mama setting aside some pumpkin pie for me because I did, in fact, receive a letter from her not long after Thanksgiving, and she told me she had done just that. She said that she’s hoping and praying I’ll be home for pumpkin pie this year. I hope she’s right.

I’m so happy to hear that you got to spend time with your folks and be together for the holidays. And happy belated birthday to little Frankie! They grow up fast, don’t they? Natasha sent Paul some photographs from Paul, Jr.’s first birthday, and neither of us can believe how big he’s gotten. Natasha says she’s writing down all his milestones in a little book for when Paul returns, so that he doesn’t miss a thing. I know it makes Paul feel good to hear that. He misses them so much.

I hope you don’t mind me doing so, but I shared with some of the guys on the carrier how you offered up your Thanksgiving gratitude and prayers for us. It lifted a lot of fellas’ spirits, I’ll tell you that. We were all missing home a little extra around the holidays, but to be reminded of why we’re doing this, and of the good people back home who are thinking of us, really makes all the difference.

Now to hear that you were an excellent pupil back in your grade school days does not surprise me one bit, Miss Peach. It’s funny that you say that you’re hopeless when it comes to arithmetic because I was always rather hopeless when it came to my writing—as I’m sure you can tell from the woeful state of my handwriting. My teachers at school—and yes, even my professors at Annapolis—always scolded me over it. Everyone has their strengths, huh? But if you don’t mind handling the writing, I’m more than happy to take care of the numbers and figures. We’d make quite a team.

Peach, I can promise you that the thought of getting to share another dance with you is one of the few things that keeps me going on the days when this war just really takes all the stuffing out of me. I just hope it’s something that YOU still want when all is said and done. I’m sure all the boys are lining up to sign your dance card.

Speaking of, have you been to any more dances at the USO lately?

You’re right when you say that Paul, Tommy Boy, Benny, and I couldn’t be any more different if we tried, but we do have a special bond and I’ll always be thankful for that. I’m glad to know you have that, too, with Dottie and Paddy and the rest of your family.

That glass of lemonade in Charleston sounds real nice right about now. It’s cold and rainy where we are, but I’ll be dreaming about that South Carolina sunshine.

My family was telling me about the coffee rations in one of their last letters. I am sorry to hear about that. I can only imagine how hard that’s hitting people, especially Paddy. I used to see him down at least three or four cups in the morning, back when I was stationed stateside. I’m sending all my best wishes that you and Dottie can survive his grumbling.

Peach, I just want to close by letting you know, once again, how much your support means to me. Truly. I hate to dwell on the negative, but there are days when this war is really hard. In fact, there are days when it feels downright impossible. But then I reread one of your letters, or take out your photograph and gaze at that pretty smile, and my hope is bolstered. You’ve given me so much, through your words alone, and I want you to know that.

I miss you, too. Who knows? Maybe 1943 will be the year we finally get that dance?

I hope so.

Very Truly Yours,

Bobby

February 3, 1943

Dear Bobby,

Happy New Year! 1943 has been treating me kindly so far, but it would be even better if it was the year that you and the rest of our boys came home. Just like your mother, that’s what I’m hoping and praying for.

My goodness, Robert Floyd, you certainly know how to make a girl feel special! I have to confess, I must have read your letter through a good two or three times when it first arrived in the mail, and I couldn’t stop blushing or beaming the whole time. Dottie said that I looked like a giddy school girl, which taught me that I really ought to read your letters in the comfort of my own room instead of in front of my nosy big sister.

Just so you know, Dottie gladly accepts your praise and thanks, and has not let me live it down for a moment. She has not failed to remind me that big sisters know best, and that I shouldn’t be so afraid to trust her, because look how well her plans always turn out? Well, knowing her my entire life, I can quite confidently say that Dottie’s plans don’t ALWAYS turn out well, but I am glad that this one did.

I’m certainly no movie star, but Dottie did work her magic on me that morning, and I’m touched beyond words at your kind reception of such a silly little thing. My cheeks still feel warm, even as I write to you now. Do you really carry my photo with you, even when you’re flying? I can hardly believe it, but I know you’re an honest man, Bobby, so it must be true. And if it brings you any sort of luck while you’re up in the air, then I’m glad for it and I’d send you a hundred more photographs if I could. I want you to come home safely, Bobby, more than anything. I need you to make it home safely so that we really can go flying together one day.

Please send my thanks and my best wishes to Benny and Tommy Boy, who are both clearly gentlemen of the highest caliber. But I’m sorry to tell them that I don’t have any girlfriends I can match them up with. Truth be told, I don’t have many girlfriends to begin with, and most of the women I do know are spoken for.

Speaking of which, do you remember my friend, Emily? She was the blonde volunteer working at the punch table with me the night we met. That was so long ago now, it’s okay if you don’t remember. Anyway, she just got engaged! She and her fiance actually met that night at the dance. His name is Eddie and he’s a corporal in the Army. He was stationed in Charleston for about a month or so after you were deployed, and he and Emily got to spending a lot of time with each other. They wrote to each other after he left, and Eddie proposed while he was back in Charleston on a short leave last month. Isn’t that something? It’s funny how things work out sometimes. I had thought Eddie was going to ask me to dance that night, but it was Emily he wanted to dance with. And look how well it turned out for them! I’m really happy for her. She’s so excited. They’re hoping that the war will be over soon and Eddie will come home permanently so that they can plan a big wedding. Emily even asked me to be one of her bridesmaids! I was Dottie’s Maid of Honor when she got married, but I’ve never been anyone else’s bridesmaid, so it’s all very exciting. A little bit of good news and hope in the midst of so much ugliness.

Christmas in Georgia was lovely, even if it was a little quieter than Christmases we’ve enjoyed in the past. I did get to see my grandparents, and some of my aunts and uncles and cousins, and that was a joy. If there’s one thing this war has taught us, it’s that spending time with the ones you love is really what matters most. My aunt actually made a pumpkin pie for dessert on Christmas Eve and I couldn’t stop giggling, thinking about your pumpkin pie fiasco as a little boy.

I hope that Paul, Jr. had a wonderful first birthday, same as Frankie! I think it’s an absolutely marvelous thing Natasha is doing, writing down all the special moments that are happening now so that Paul can relive them when he gets home. What a special gift that will be! Would you do me a favor, Bobby, and send Paul my best? I’ll never forget his kindness at the dance that night, and I really do hope he’s doing well.

Of course I don’t mind you passing along my best wishes to the rest of the men! I feel like I have so little to offer, and so little to contribute to this war, so if my thoughts and prayers can help lift even one person’s spirits, then I’m happy to hear it.

I’m also happy to hear that you’re good with numbers and figures because I simply never have been. I’d suggest that you could tutor me when you return home, but I’d be embarrassed for you to see just how truly hopeless I am when it comes to my mathematics. Instead, I’ll gladly take you up on your offer to handle all the writing if you handle all the numbers. An excellent team we’d make, indeed! And believe me when I say that your handwriting is far from the most dreadful I’ve seen. You should see my father’s and Paddy’s—completely illegible! Paddy once left me and Dottie a note letting us know he’d be home late that night, and we sat up for hours worrying because we couldn’t even read what it said! So trust me, Bobby, your writing is not as woeful as all that.

You can also trust me when I tell you that there are certainly no boys lining up to sign my dance card. I’ve volunteered at several other USO events, but truth be told, I haven’t gone to many dances since that one back in May. Emily’s always trying to get me to go with her, and I have gone to a couple, but it just doesn’t feel the same, Is that silly? I know we only got to attend one dance together, but it just doesn’t feel right, being there without you, Bobby. Every time I did force myself to go, I’d hear a song that played that night and then I’d miss you too much. The next time I go to a dance, I want you to be there, too, and I want us to be dancing together. I’ll make sure there’s plenty of lemonade for us afterwards.

I think Paddy is finally recovering from his caffeine withdrawals, thank goodness! Dottie and I have been cutting back on our coffee consumption so that he can have some more in the morning. I have a feeling more rations will be coming soon, which is why Dottie and I are already making plans to revive our Victory Garden this spring. We didn’t pay as much mind to it last year, when everything still seemed so readily available, but this year we’re determined to grow as much as we can. We’re not exactly farmgirls, my sister and I, so maybe you could send us some tips?

Bobby, if my words bolster your spirits, then I want you to know that your words do that a hundredfold for me. Receiving your letters in the mail brings me such joy. I have every single one saved, and I read them whenever I’m feeling sad or scared about the war. Have I told you lately how glad I am that we met and that we’re still exchanging letters all these many months later?

Here’s to hoping that 1943 is our year, Bobby. I hope that I’ll be seeing you real soon.

Most Affectionately Yours,

Peach

P.S. I almost can’t believe I’m asking this—and I hope you don’t think it too forward—but is there any possibility that you might have a photograph you could send? I can still see your face so clearly in my memories, Bobby, but it would be so special to have a photo to remember you by. If not, it’s okay. I just thought I would ask. Stay safe, Bobby.

[casp1an-sea]

FANDOMS

if anyone actually reads all this, I’ll be impressed

Tv show themes through the years playlist

I colored the ones I cared most about in each section if none are colored it means I care about the things in that section equally.

Star Wars:

Original Trilogy 

Prequels 

I dont consider myself a sequels fan but I am obsessed with HUX and Kylux and basically anything first order

Rouge One

Star Wars Legends

Star wars Infinites

Star Wars as written by William Shakespeare 

Star Wars Clone Wars

The Bad Batch

Star Wars Rebels

Andor 

Mandolorian 

Obi-Wan Kenobi Series 

Star Wars Visions 

Tales of the Jedi 

Tales of the Empire

Anything Lego Star Wars 

THE ACOLYTE (may it rest in piece)

—————————————————————————

Marvel:

the movies (I’m not caught up yet) 

Falcon and the winter soldier 

Loki (not caught up) 

Wanda Vision

Moon Knight

Avengers Assemble (literally so weird and silly) (not finished with season 5)

spider verse

Tobey Maguire Spider-Man movies

Andrew Garfield, Spider-Man movies

—————————————————————————

Musicals/Plays:

Newsies

Bye Bye Biride

Christmas Carol

Wonka

Little mermaid

Shrek

Wizard of OZ

Anything goes

Sponge Bob

Beauty and the Beast

Guys and Dolls

Hamilton

Six

The guy who didn’t like musicals

twisted

ride the cyclone

Les Mis

The lighting thief (not finished)

into the woods

Kinda bat boy (HOLD ME BAT BOY TOUCH ME BAT BOY)

Gatsby

Romeo and Juliet

Macbeth

—————————————————————————

Games:

Zac McKraken and the Alien Mindbenders!!!! (Literally the best game)

Twisted Wonderland (read through book 6)

Ultimate Shark Simulator

Hogwarts Mystery (not caught up)

KOTOR (not caught up)

Star Wars Asault Team

Minecraft

Jedi Fallen Order (not finished)

—————————————————————————

Anime:

MHA (stopped watching mid season 4 only really care about Iida)

OHSHC

BSD

Angels of death 

Darling in the franxx (only really care about Goro)

Saki k (haven’t seen season 2)

—————————————————————————

Minecraft SMPs:

EVO

Dream SMP (not caught up)

Empires SMP

X Life 

After Life 

New Life 

Rats 

Pirates (not caught up) 

Trafic Light/Life Series (I only watch Jimmy, Joel, and Martin’s POVs)

—————————————————————————

2000s Kids shows:

MLP G3 and Friendship is Magic

Wild Kratts 

Octonauts 

TMNT 2012

Odd Squad 

imagination movers

Dinosaur Train

Lego Friends (The og version)

Monster High

Ever After High

Avatar the Last Air Bender 

Sofia the first

Elena of Avalore

dinosaur train

—————————————————————————

Weird Sci-fi and Fantasy Shows:

Doctor Who (only on the 4th Doctor) 

Read All About it 

H2O Just Add Water 

Wolf Blood 

Fragle Rock

Mako Mermaids (only watched season 1)

Alien Surfer Girls/Lightning Point

Thunder Stone 

Girl From Tomorrow 

Ocean Girl 

Sparticle Mystery 

Elephant Princess (featuring Liam Hemsworth) 

Eerie Indiana 

Girl’s World

House of Anubis 

A girl named Jo (not sci-fi or Fantasy) 

Hardy Boys Nancy Drew Mysteries (not sci-fi or Fantasy) 

Blue Water High (not sci-fi or Fantasy) 

The Prisoner 

Spell Binder 

Just Add Magic 

Maddigan’s Quest 

The Next Step (not sci-fi or Fantasy) 

Return to Jupiter 

Rocket’s Island 

Parallels

Silver Sun (not caught up) 

—————————————————————————

Disney Plus Telenovelas: 

Violeta 

Soy Luna 

Bia 

Intertwined 

O11CE

L-Pop

—————————————————————————

Misc fandoms and shows:

Harry Potter (not caught up, I do not support J.K. Rowling or read the books) 

The Tick (og cartoon version) 

Monk

The Outsiders (movie, book, and 90s Tv series) 

Alex Rider (the show not the books) 

Wild at Heart (never finished) 

White Collar 

National Treasure Edge of History 

The Lodge

Descendants 

Z-O-M-B-I-E-S

Gilligan’s Island

NCIS New Orleans

Hell of a Boss

Hazbin Hotel

Heart Stopper

OFMD (not caught up)

Julie and the Phantoms 

Disney in general 

Tinker bell

—————————————————————————

Book series: 

Percy Jackson (currently only read the lightning thief)

The Final Six 

Horizon 

Thea Sisters (when I was little) 

Chronicles of Narnia

Wizard of Oz

The black stallion

Series of unfortunate events

The Outsiders

The Waterfire Saga

[topsyturvy-turtely]

20 questions for fic writers

thank you for tagging me @gregorovitchworld! 💚

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

13 🙃

2. what's your current ao3 word count?

73.611 (not that bad i guess but i wish it was more)

3. what fandoms do you write for?

only bbc sherlock for now but i am thinking of writing for good omens too :)

4. top five fics by kudos?

-> Rosie's Elephant in the Room

-> Human Urges

-> JOHNLOCKed in a Closet

-> Let Me Fix You

-> Halloween

5. do you respond to comments? why or why not?

yes! i respond to every single one (unless it is only an emoji... but even then i do it most of the time)

why? because i fucking LOVE connecting with my readers! and i wanna make them keep commenting on fics. because comments are so fucking important!!! they are what keep us writers going!

6. what's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

aaah probably Missing (but that will be happy again!)

so in the end it is THE LONELIEST

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

JOHNLOCKed in a Closet, i'd say

8. do you receive hate?

thank goodness i don't!

9. do you write smut?

nope. i write some subtle sex scenes, but never long ones or intensely described. i just don't feel comfortable with it.

10. do you write crossovers?

nope. seems too complicated to me 😂 i don't really read them either so ig i don't have the urge to write them. ooh, wait i wrote a short freebatch/star wars/johnlock kind of crossover once. prompt: "geeking out over something" (day 14 of my otp challenge! that i might have ignored for about a year now... whoopsie)

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

3 times that i know of. novelhd dot com is a bitch. they stole JOHNLOCKed in a Closet (JLiaC), Strawberries and Cigarettes (S&C), and my oneshots on wattpad. it is fucking heartbreaking and really made me lose some trust in humanity as well as my motivation to write for a long time... DO NOT STEAL FICS!

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

no, because i don't feel comfortable with it. probably because of the shit that happened to me described above.

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

nope, but i would be up for the challenge:)

14. what is your all-time favorite ship?

the answer is obviously johnlock lol.

15. a wip you doubt you will ever finish?

all my wips. no idk. i've got lot of wips and i will never completely give up on them. maybe just forget them, haha.

16. writing strengths?

writing about feelings, dialogue, inner monologues, two-person interactions

17. writing weaknesses?

well, smut lol. writing long intense plots (i am a fluff writer xD) - but i hope to get better at it. i have big hopes for Missing.

18. will you write a dialogue in another language?

never say never! but only after i have checked up with someone who speaks/knows said language well!

19. what was your first fandom?

*sigh* bbc sherlock, my babes. ;)

20. what's your favorite fic you have ever written?

first thought of day 9: hugging of my otp challenge. it's an alternative ending to TLD. it's a bunch of big emotions, big words and and big moments. - ghost mary actually is one of the big reasons they finally get together!!!

tagging (if you have already been tagged, feel free to ignore this and/or tag me in the post you already answered those questions): @totallysilvergirl @lisbeth-kk @gaylilsherlock and man who else??? anyone! anyone who wants to join the fun!

[ourlordapollo]

Just realized I never posted my Narumitsu playlist so let's goooo

It's in rough chronological order by the OG trilogy and stops after T&T

Tracklist

Break My Stride - Matthew Wilder

You're on the road and now you pray it lasts

The road behind was rocky, but now you're feeling cocky

You look at me and you see your past

Is that the reason why you're running so fast?

Go Your Own Way - Fleetwood Mac

Loving you isn't the right thing to do

How can I ever change things that I feel?

If I could, maybe I'd give you my world

How can I when you won't take it from me?

Before I Got There - The Mountain Goats

And in a pit behind the altar,

The bodies of the fallen

Heavy tracks up to the lip

Just to prove that they were crawling

Faces turned toward the sky

That they would never see again

Victims of the fallout

I have failed you, sweet young men

Yesterday - The Beatles

Suddenly, I'm not half the man I used to be

There's a shadow hanging over me

Oh, yesterday came suddenly

Fix You - Canyon City

When the tears come streaming down your face

And you lose something you can't replace

When you love someone and it goes to waste

Could it be worse?

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And I will try to fix you

Stars - fun.

And I've been saying that you,

You're always holding onto stars

I think they're better from afar

'Cause no one here is gonna save us

—

You Run Away - Barenaked Ladies

You run away

You could turn and stay

But you run away from me

I tried to be your brother

You cried and ran for cover

Little Lion Man - Mumford and Sons

And it was not your fault but mine

And it was your heart on the line

I really fucked it up this time

Didn't I, my dear?

At Least It Was Here - The 88

But I love you more than words can say

I can’t count the reasons I should stay

One by one they all just fade away

But I love you more than words can say

Europe's Skies - Alexander Rybak

I don't know you, but I need more time

Promise me you'll be mine

Birds are flying over Europe's skies

Tell me please, why can't I?

Wrecking Ball - Miley Cyrus

I never meant to start a war

I just wanted you to let me in

How to Save a Life - The Fray

He will do one of two things

He will admit to everything

Or he'll say he's just not the same

And you'll begin to wonder why you came

No Children - The Mountain Goats

I am drowning

There is no sign of land

You are coming down with me

Hand in unlovable hand

Boulevard of Broken Dreams - Green Day

I walk a lonely road

The only one that I have ever known

Don't know where it goes

But it's home to me and I walk alone

—

Love You Madly - CAKE

I don't want to wonder if this is a blunder

I don't want to worry whether we're going to stay together 'til we die

I don't want to jump in unless this music's thumpin'

All the dishes rattle in the cupboards when the elephants arrive

Cellophane - Sia

Patience is your virtue, saint of mine

I'd have fallen through the cracks without your love tonight

Iowa (Traveling, Pt. 3) - Dar Williams

How I long to fall just a little bit

To dance out of the lines and stray from the light

But I fear that to fall in love with you

Is to fall from a great and gruesome height

Hey Jude - The Beatles

Remember to let her into your heart

Then you can start to make it better

Lean On Me - Keb' Mo'

Lean on me

When you're not strong

And I'll be your friend

I'll help you carry on

Iris - The Goo Goo Dolls

And I don't want the world to see me

'Cause I don't think that they'd understand

When everything's made to be broken

I just want you to know who I am

Pompeii - Bastille

But if you close your eyes

Does it almost feel like nothing changed at all?

And if you close your eyes

Does it almost feel like you've been here before?

Here Comes the Sun - The Beatles

Little darling

I feel that ice is slowly melting

Little darling

It seems like years since it's been clear

Here comes the sun

[ometochtli2rabbit]

13.0.12.4.6

ox[3] KIMI/KAME [death] - b'olon [9] MUWAN

galactic tone: action/ rhythm

sun sign: TRANSFORMER| owl/white/north

tie all loose ends - MAYA

yei[3] - MIQUITZLI [death]

Chalchihuitlicue | Tecciztecatl

huactli[falcon]

lord of the night: Itztli

trecena[3]: Itzlacoliuhqui

x: yei[3] - toxcatl - NAHUA

Itztlacoliuhqui-Ixquimilli is Curved Point of Obsidian - Knife Eye Bundle, the god of frost, ice, cold, winter, sin, punishment and human misery. He is also the god of objectivity and blind-folded justice. He is a variant of Tezcatlipoca and associated with the night and the north.

Itztlacoliuhqui once was Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli (Lord of the Dawn, Venus as the Morning Star), but after a shooting match with the Sun Tonatiuh during the creation of the Fifth World, he was punished by Tonatiuh and transformed into Itztlacoliuhqui, god of stone and coldness. [www.azteccalendar.com]

The trecena we are 3 days into is governed by Itzlacoliuhqui- so here are some songs about COLD:

Foreigner: Cold as Ice

Carole King: Out in the Cold

Dolly Parton& Rod Stewart: Baby, It's Cold Outside

Stevie Ray Vaughan: Cold Shot

Tone-Loc: Funky Cold Medina

Paula Abdul: Cold Hearted

George Jones & Tammy Wynette: Never Grow Cold

AFI: Silver and Cold

Paramore: Hello Cold World

Foo Fighters: Cold Day in the Sun

Demi Lovato: Stone Cold

Beck: Cold Brains

Little Feat: Cold Cold Cold

Cage the Elephant: Cold Cold Cold

Adele: Cold Shoulder

Mitski: A Horse Named Cold Air

Stevie Wonder: Cold Chill

Katy Perry: Hot N Cold

Lenny Kravitz: Straight Cold Player

The Chicks: Cold Day in July

Judas Priest: Out in the Cold

Cyndi Lauper: Hot Gets A Little Cold

Thin Lizzy: Cold Sweat

Mariah Carey: You're So Cold

Elton John: Warm Love in a Cold World

Tears for Fears: Cold

Annie Lennox: Cold

Bob Dylan: Cold Irons Bound

Arcade Fire: Cold Wind

Merle Haggard: This Cold War with You

Joni Mitchell: Come in From the Cold

AC/DC: Cold Hearted Man

Fleetwood Mac: Cold Black Night

The Rolling Stones: She's So Cold

Bob Marley: Coming In From the Cold

Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers: Out in the Cold

The White Stripes: In the Cold, Cold Night

Norah Jones: Cold Cold Heart

Aretha Franklin: Cold, Cold Heart

Hank Williams: Cold Cold Heart

Queen: Stone Cold Crazy

Nirvana: Tourette's

John Lennon: Cold Turkey

Tom Waits: Cold Cold Ground

Muddy Waters: Cold Weather Blues

David Bowie: She Shook Me Cold

[ericsboner]

INTRO • 

ABOUT ME :

I’m Jamie, I’m 15 years old and I’m from Scotland. I joined the tcc about 3-4 years ago.

INTERESTS :

True crime, zero day, elephant 2003, history, guns, bombs, playing guitar, Star Wars, Dc comics, Lego, postal, urban legends, Doom

ARTISTS :

Negative Xp, Hrtbrkr, Fried by fluoride, KMFDM, NIN, Popkill, belowground and many more

FAVOURITE PERPETRATORS AND CASES :

Columbine, sandy hook, the zodiac killer, the kerch polytechnic college massacre, academy manics,Elliot Rodgers, Slender man girls, Trollhättan school stabbing, the unabomber, charles manson

please feel free to dm I’m in dire need of friends