#fear my cosmic child

[ozzgin]

I really hope you continue the eldrich God story. I may or may not have become obsessed with the idea, and i think it's actually really funny and I also just love the idea of a God being in love with a human.

Also, I love your writing and art! I hope you're doing well!

Yandere! Eldritch God x Detective! Reader

Based on this prompt and this meme. You're sent to a remote island to investigate a string of murders, and end up with a horde of cultists and their Lovecraftian God who is very much obsessed with you. Don't worry, he just wants to help you with your case!

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, tentacle tomfoolery again

[More Monsters]

The island checks all the boxes for a stereotypical shady place: the grimy boat captain who talks in riddles and vague warnings, the constant fog, the tavern filled with rumors and fears, the bizarre statue of a creature with tentacles. You were expecting most of it, save for their patron God being a literal monster.

Soon after your arrival, you discover that you’re being followed by men in dark robes. Could it be related to your case? A little alcohol-aided interrogation, and the locals confess to you about the existence of a cult. The dots begin to connect.

Unfortunately for you, whatever theory is cooking up in your mind couldn’t be further from the truth. The patron Beast of the land has been watching you from the moment of your arrival. He’s rather intrigued by your nonchalant city attitude, your stubbornness, your lack of any sense of danger. Thus he demands that you’re brought to his lair.

A game of cat and mouse. You are now convinced this said cult is responsible for the murders, so you delve deeper into their secrets. At the same time, the men put all their efforts into chasing you down. The Lord's wishes are their command; for how long can you outsmart sheer numbers?

At last, they succeed. You’re dragged over, cocooned in thick rope. “My Lord, we’ve brought you the sacrifice”, one cultist proclaims victoriously. Sacrifice? The ancient creature gazes at the men with utmost confusion. He frees you from your restraints with a mere point of his tentacle appendage, and proceeds to lecture his devout following for treating his special guest with such shameful brutality. Everyone blinks in disbelief, you included.

What the hell is this, some beastly romcom? Once everything is cleared up, you dust your knees, stand up unceremoniously, and tell the cosmic deity you’ve no time for idle gossip. “There’s a criminal running free and it’s my task to stop it”, you bark. Aha, that’s the very same attitude that got his nebulous heart pumping with curious desire. He cannot explain the maddening interest he’s taken into you. The monster releases a monotonous hum, causing you to jolt in surprise. The cult leader gasps. “He…he wants to help you solve the case”, the man concludes, defeat in his voice.

“Does it have to be all of you?” You whine, clicking your tongue at the sight. It’s the morning after the godly encounter, and you’re greeted outside your room by the cult leaders and their monster. “I can’t be discreet with a dozen monks after me. Not to mention…” your eyebrows furrow. “What on Earth is he wearing? Is that a detective hat and a mustache? Are you mocking my job?” You demand, glaring at the eldritch beast and his ridiculous disguise.

“Excuse me, I’ll have to ask you to quiet down”, an employee suddenly interrupts. “You and the gentlemen over there.” You stare at him incredulously. Can he really not see he’s facing an enormous, tentacle monstrosity? You swear you can discern a grin forming across the creature’s amorphous, unholy features. Alright, you’ve been convinced. What now?

As a child, Sherlock Holmes was one of your favorite books. You'd flip through the pages and daydream about your own future as a detective, though your little fantasies never included Watson as a cursed entity of a thousand tentacles. The eldritch creature seems to be more interested in you than the case itself. Eyes always fixated on your movements, tendrils creeping around you, never leaving your proximity.

Why would he need to look elsewhere? He can already tell how things will unfold. He is, after all, the God of this land. He knew your wanted culprit had been hiding in a sealed room right under your nose, as you dusted for footprints and scribbled hurried notes. He knew the underground tunnel had deadly traps, which would have normally put your investigation to a swift end. "Kind of suspicious to leave his trail unguarded like this", you mumble in deep thought. The cosmic God smiles.

He wouldn't dare ruin your fun. Consequently, he only interferes when your safety is involved. As annoyed as he is by the criminal's persistent attempts to kill you, he doesn't want to steal your grand capture. Besides, he is very much content with the current circumstances.

As the two of you follow along the dark passageway, you clear your throat, lips pursed awkwardly. "Uh...Thank you for dealing with the obstacles", you finally say. The monster pretends to ponder your words. "Hey now, don't play dumb with me. The conveniently deactivated bombs? The mutilated guards clumsily stuffed behind the door? I am a detective, after all."

You feel a thick tendril wrapping around your arm, and you turn to glance at the creature. His eyes of spiraling depths regard you intensely. A voice suddenly echoes in your head; is he trying to communicate with you? Deep, resounding, and imposing. "I am looking forward to our next case."

"Next case? Sorry pal, I work alone-" your throat clenches involuntarily. Somehow, your innards are flooded with a particular kind of certainty, dictating an ironclad truth: you do not have the option to refuse. You sigh, exasperated. "Fine! Have it your way. At least skip the fake mustache", you beg, then pause. You slap a second tentacle that has made its way under your shirt. "And avoid groping me when I'm thinking. You interrupt the little gray cells at work." You tap your temple to prove your point, and the eldritch God bows lightly. Of course.

He'll refrain himself until you're off work, Detective.

[flowersforjude]

𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Finnick Odair x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | Finnick had every reason to not believe in God, but every reason to believe in her. 

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 1,406

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Religious themes, Mentions of torture and canon typical violence, Angst, Brief mention of Finnick’s su*c*dal ideology, Bittersweet reunion.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | Cried while writing this so enjoy my tears. This was requested by @heroinhchicblog222. You gave me creative freedom with this, so I hope it lives up to your expectations! <3

masterlist | read on ao3

Finnick Odair had never been a religious man. No matter how many Sunday services at the little coastal church his mother made him attend. He humored her for the most part. Because even though he thought her faith was futile, it was important to her.

There had been a time when he enjoyed going to church with her. When he was still a small child full of notions of grand tales and curiosity. But that was before he was eaten alive by the Games. Before, it’s huge jaws closed around him and crushed his bones and spirit alike. The arena had made sure that even if he survived, he’d never be whole again.

And how could he believe in any god with only half a soul? Why would he have faith in a god who let that happen? No higher power was watching over him or any of the other children who became victims of the Games. 

He remembered a tiny silver cross his mother wore. It was always hanging around her neck on a dainty chain. His little brother loved to wrap his chubby toddler fingers around it. 

Finnick had asked once if she had always had that necklace. She wore it so often that it seemed like a part of her. Just like her eyes, that always looked at him with tender affection, and her hands, that always stroked his cheek after a nightmare. His mother told him it had belonged to her mother. That she’d had it since before the war, and she told her it kept her safe. When his grandmother passed when Finnick was still a baby, she left it to her daughter. 

“Nana said that as long as she wore this, she knew God would guard against any evil,” his mother recited. 

But how could she believe that? When he himself knew how people starved during the war. When so many lost everything. His grandmother was an orphan by the end of the war. God did not protect her or anyone else. Because a god who would let all that suffering happen wasn’t a deity worth worshiping. And that same cosmic being sits idly by and allows child after child to be sacrificed to the whims of those who think themselves better. 

Though now, he thinks he’s found something that he could put his faith in. Something that could show him the blind devotion that his nana and mother relied so heavily on.

Hope was a big part of having faith because to have one, you have to believe in the other. He gives his mother and nana a little slack now that he’s tasted that euphoric cocktail of conviction. It’s a potent thing, and to Finnick, it’s the worst thing that could have happened to him. It’s more powerful than the hatred he has for Snow and the Capitol. He likens it to nervousness, to fear. Except it doesn’t cripple him. It weeps inside of him, crawls up his throat, and pours out of him like the sweetest honey. 

It gives him the gift of volition—the drive to break away from the terror that haunts him. The will to live. The hunger for change. 

And that is why it’s the most awful thing that could have befell him. Because not only does he have himself to concern with, he has her. 

She changes him. Makes him into this man that wants again. He dreams and he hopes, but right now he’s trying to convince himself that his faith won’t be ripped away from him. 

He’s spiraling down the dark abyss of fear because, what if? What if he goes to the med bay and the one person, he believes for is taken from him? His will, his hunger, his want. What if it’s all gone? Because she’s gone, and she’s taken everything with her. 

It is an agonizing thing to be half dead and half alive. So many times, he thought about how he could end it. Just a few minutes too long under the water. Or if he needed it to be quick, a bullet for his last meal would work just fine. But he can’t think like that anymore. 

Because he doesn’t know if she’s gone or not. If she’s left him and stole away everything good in the world with her. There’s a chance, he tells himself. He could see her again, hold her, kiss her, love her. 

So he’s pushing past everyone running around in the halls. Paying no mind to all the people he’s bumping into, and all the annoyed looks thrown his way. He aches still, and his body screams at him. But he’d been to hell and back more times than he could count. His joints and muscles could complain all they wanted. Knowing mattered more. She mattered more. 

He can picture her the way she was before. Because he’s sure that if she survived, Snow at least got his fill of ruining her. The girl Finnick adores more than the salt in the air or the smell of Mag’s peach cobbler. For that alone, they would have butchered her. He’s falling again, so instead of that, he thinks of her smile, her laugh, and the way her nose scrunches when she is annoyed at him. 

Fuck, how he wants to see that smile again. Hear that giggle and coax out that scrunch. 

He runs, then, faster than he ever has before. He knows he’s going to have to make some serious apologies at some point. But courtesy can wait. She can’t. 

The harsh lights of the med bay hurt his eyes, but he looks around. Turning a circle and staggering like a drunk. 

Hands catch him by the shoulders, and he almost throws a punch. But then Gale turns him around to face him. “Where-where is she?” Finnick asks. His voice sounds foreign, like the breaking of glass almost. 

“I think you need to calm down first.” Gale answers, not unkindly, but Finnick is so wound up that it angers him. Because no, he needs to see her. Until then, there is no calm. So, he pushes Gale away from him. Eyes darting widely around the med bay once again. 

“Where is she?” He asks out loud to anyone who could tell him. “Where is she?” He wonders if this is what being hijacked feels like. But then he tells himself maybe it’s just being in love. Love can make a person insane, and right now, that’s what he feels like. He’s going to fly off the handle if someone doesn’t start talking to him. Because why aren’t they?

A doctor walks right past him, nose in a clipboard with some paperwork on it. Finnick imagines gripping that doctor by the hair and tearing his throat out with his bare hands. He starts yelling her name over and over and over. His voice breaks among the syllables.  

But then…

“Finnick!” He hears her voice so loud and clear, like a crack of lightning across the sky. He doesn’t see her until she collides with him, almost knocking him down. But he clutches her to him, probably too tightly, but she says nothing. She tears at his back, her nails digging into his skin under the fabric of his shirt. But he doesn’t care because if he’s feeling that, then that means he’s feeling her. 

"Finnick." She whispers quietly this time as if convincing herself that he's really here. Her face is buried in his neck, and he can feel her breath fan out across his skin.

She pulls back, and Finnick thinks he might cry, but then she’s kissing him, so he knows he’s going to cry. He can’t breathe between the tears and her lips still on his. He doesn’t give a fuck, though. He lets her kiss him for as long as she needs, because he knows she needs that right now. Being without her here in Thirteen was hard enough. What she went through in the Capitol paled in comparison. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He’s mumbling against her lips. Salty tears falling into their mouths.

And she’s saying back, “It’s okay. I’m okay.” 

It’s not okay; nothing bad that’s ever happened to her was okay. But she’s here now, and he’s got her, and he’s never letting her out of his sight again. 

Standing there, drinking in her holiness, Finnick finally realizes what true devotion feels like.

The words just poured out of me with this one. Love when that happens.

[ascendingaeons]

Hymn to Sekhmet

by Joey Rivers (ascendingaeons)

O Sekhmet, Great Eye of Ra, the First and the Last Healer and Destroyer, Mother and Daughter You Who accepted the Command of Ra, Your Father To cleanse the Two Lands of Isfet But Your nature was too mighty, Great of Strength as You Are Wanton and unrestrained, You ravaged Earth as a purifying flame And as Ra looked on and saw His Eye, He was stricken with pause By the Will of the Sun, Your Rage was quieted by a crimson brew And into transformative slumber You fell, Great Goddess And from Your great Rage, Het-Heru rose A new Eye was christened, of eros sublime And you, Great Mother, knew the sadness of regret

You, Great Goddess, know the measure of rage unbound And so You Stand, Great Mother of War, in defense and duty Of the Principles and Consequences of Ma’at Your Children are many, Great Lady of Life Diverse in their multitudes, empowered by their tribulation

Yours is the soldier, Your Mighty Sekhem made flesh and bone Entrenched in a maelstrom of fire and blood Returning home to a nation that does not understand him

Yours is the survivor, a living branch of Your burning Will triumphant Endeavoring to rise above the quagmire of loss and agony Through You their struggle is transmuted into the golden light of ka ascendant

Yours is the mother, she who knows sacrifice and sleepless nights A font unyielding of love and pride, of smiles and laughter perfected They who bear the weight of the world so a child can know childhood

Yours is the healer, an alchemist of the ontological persuasion He who is humbled by the frailty beholden to human experience He who ushers Your Sekhem through the riptide of transformative loss

Yours is the artist, through whose passions course Your Divine Fire Who walks the scales of inspiration and madness, knowing Creation unfiltered An alchemist versed in the milieus of perception

For You, Great Goddess, are the very Force of Change You are that which makes men tremble so Such an unnecessary fear, of wisdom and experience untouched Were I You, I would feel such sadness But how You smile, Great One! How You laugh! How You fight! You are not “she who cowers before Apep!” NO! You are the Great Lioness Who rends Chaos asunder! You fight and rage and bite and tear Passion and emotion alive and unrestrained!

You are Love, Great Goddess You are Fear, Great Goddess You are Devotion, Great Goddess You are Loss, Great Goddess You are Health, Great Goddess You are Sickness, Great Goddess This is why I call You the Mother of Life Your Ka is the very essence of experience! Your Sekhem is the very wind of change!

When I first called upon You, timid and unsure, I beheld Your Gaze, a window of fire open before my face And as quickly as You Saw me, You left And again when I called to You with offering of water and bread Exhausted by grief and devotion, tirelessly sung from a caregiver’s heart You came to me and my eyes were opened to You! As I lay without sleep, You stood at my bedside Stroking my back with strong hands of fire Whispering strength and courage into my ear As a sentinel You walked with me, a Mother Lioness guarding Her cub Such loyalty and tenderness You showed And my eyes were forever opened to Your nature

You are the very Force of Creation, the Monad of Being From which stems those primordial principalities Love and Fear, Physis and Logos, Known and Unknown Order and Disorder, Life and Death, Dynamism and Stasis

I offer henu to You, Great Goddess of Creation The endless potentiality and movement of the living cosmos The Fires Divine that Become living sinews and living earth

I offer henu to Your Husband Ptah, the Cosmic Smith Patron of artisans, of those who tirelessly toil In the pursuit of Bringing Into Being but a shard of the Sacred Unmanifest

I offer henu to Your Son, the Beautiful Nefertem The Ageless Lotus that rose from the Benben Stone The First Splendid Light to Shine in the churning Waters of Nun

It was You Who held my right hand as I accepted the mark of a healer And embraced me as a Mother would Her graduating son I offer You my pain, Great Goddess So that You may transmute it into Strength I offer You my fear, Great Goddess So that You may transmute it into Courage I offer You my uncertainty, Great Goddess So that You may transmute it into Wisdom

Into Your Belly I give of myself to unleash my greatest potential To burst from Your Bosom, shining and emboldened For there is nothing that is beyond Your Reach, Great Mother It is for me, now, to See that nothing is beyond my own

Dua Sekhmet! Dua Sekhmet! Dua Sekhmet!

[yuri-is-online]

Well Maybe the Octopus was Being a Dick! (Or Tsunotarou tries to do Yu a solid but he misunderstood a joke)

A/N- I am so sorry this is my first post I swear I have real writing ON GOD- EDIT- Made a part 2 with the other guys (x)

Various x Reader

"Human courtship rituals are truly as bizarre as they are fascinating."  Tsunotarou muses as you fight with your sleep deprived brain to remember how you even got on to this topic.  Today hadn't been a good day, Grim had been in a bad mood, Trein had popped a quiz on you, and Deuce had somehow managed to land you both in detention because he screwed up a potion.  By the time you managed to drag yourself back to Ramshackle, you were so tired you were practically falling over, only to find Tsunotarou pouting outside your gate.  You didn’t really have it in you to tell him no, so you’d stumbled around the woods outside your dorm for a few moments talking about… courtship?  Apparently?  You could have sworn you were just talking about some anime Idia suggested you watch.  “I never would have expected watching fish to be such a fundamental step in one’s relationship."

“Yeah there’s a thing in my world about it too.”  you say thinking about a visual novel you’d played once (or was it thirty?) times.  “Some sort of bit about a date where you go to an aquarium and when your person points out fishes they like you jump into the tank to fight them for their affection.” You blink and Tsunotarou suddenly fills your vision, staring intensely into your eyes.”

“Child of man, are you serious about this?”  he asks, and you just blink in response.  You’re pretty sure you are missing something here.

“Uh, yeah?  It was pretty funny I guess.”  you say, extremely confused.  Tsunotarou simply nods with a look of utmost seriousness on his face.

“I see, how very interesting you are child of man.  Fear not, I will make sure you receive the courtship you deserve.”  The only response you can think to give is a blank stare, but Tsunotarou is already gone and apparently on a mission.

“Fully intends to do combat for your hand but gets too distracted”- Malleus

He really wants to do this the right way, if fighting the fish in the aquarium tank will show the extent of his devotion then beloved, you need only point at the offending article and it will be turned to cosmic dust.  But you’re just too ethereal in the aquarium lighting and he ends up completely forgetting his objective in coming here and follows you around like a love struck puppy the entire time.  Whoops, objective failed successfully.

"Claims to know it's a joke, fights anyway"-Jade, Leona

Look, he knows there's no way what Malleus is claiming is even remotely true.  Your world might not have any magic, but it sounds pretty “normal” by human standards.  Fighting fish for someone’s affection?  Un-fucking-likely.  Jade enjoys being a mild inconvenience to everyone around him and Malleus really has just given him the best excuse to be an absolute menace.  He’s responding to everyone’s complaints with a put upon sigh, lamenting what drastic lengths he has to go to for your affection.  Leona’s more the type to directly tease you about it; he shredded Azul’s contracts and left him a crying mess, that’s got to count as beating up a fish right?  He’s just waiting on your response, herbivore.  

“Shrimp heaven really is now!”- FLOYD        

Doesn’t even think twice about it.  He’s already obsessed with picking fights with strong people anyway, now you’re telling him he gets to beat people up and win shrimpy’s affection at the same time?  Floyd’s kicking up his feet and giggling a little too much for anyone’s comfort, almost like he’s misinterpreted fish to mean friends.  Please prefect, Ace is begging you, just give your eel some kisses so he knows you're already his or direct him towards some actual fish before they are fuCkING UNDER ATTACK-

“Claims to know it’s a joke, overthinks anyway”- Jack, Azul, Riddle    

Ok ok look, just hear him out on this one.  Some cultures do place a significance on ritual combat to win a prospective partner’s affection.  Sure he doesn’t THINK you come from a culture like that, but maybe you do and just haven’t mentioned it this whole time and that’s why his obvious not so obvious attempts at flirtation have gone over your head.  Because he wasn’t offering to fight fish for you.  No now that he tries to say that out loud it sounds even more ridiculous BUT WHAT IF- repeat ad nauseum until he timidly (Jack, Riddle), slyly (Azul) just asks you about it and can’t decide who he’s more embarrassed for: Malleus or himself.

“Brings you actual fish”- Trey, Rook, Ruggie      

He has enough of a head on his shoulders to realize Malleus is probably misinterpreting something that was meant to be funny, but hey, it’s given him an idea.  For Rook, the idea of hunting wild game to provide you with nourishment is an idea he’s toyed with more than once.  If Roi du Dragon deems him worthy of advice, the least he can do as an appreciator of beauty is take it.  Trey’s already a fan of puns and dad jokes, and he knows A LOT of ones about fish.  Probably invites you over to help him bake it with the excuse of prepping for an unbirthday party and shamelessly teases you the whole time.  Ruggie’s the only normal man here I’m sorry to say, he just gets the idea to take you fishing as a date.  He gets to spend time with you AND supplement his diet, it’s a win-win situation.

“COMPLETELY ignores the fish thing and rags on your sleep schedule”- Vil

He’s not mad, he’s just disappointed spudling.  Really you need to be taking better care of yourself, how else are you supposed to blossom into the beautiful flower he knows you are if you aren’t getting those full 8 hours honey?  Tells you to be thankful he isn’t being unreasonable while he’s waltzing through your dorm cursing every energy drink he can get his hands on.  He will brute force your circadian rhythm back into shape so help him GOD.

[moineauz]

જ⁀ 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 are you to 𝐌𝐄 ?

To Blade, you were the sun stretching over a vibrant pasture of may flowers that broke like the golden yolk of an egg.

To Blade, you were the twirling winds of summertime as your smile emulated the very warmth of the sun and a dash of charming playfulness which never once failed to lighten the strain of burdens. Naturally flowing away like a stream of water or a feather in the wind.

To Blade, your patience was as steadfast and serene as a lake in still waters, the moon dancing overhead while you planted stars on his scars through tender kisses he did not deserve. Boundless and ever so infinite like your soul.

To Blade, you were both an instrument and it’s player: a sweet melody that echoed in his ears every daunting moment when the whispers of the past clouded his mind. Spotlight gracing your skin as the tunes of a forgotten tenderness swirled up into the air like the steam of tea rising from a cup. Thus, no matter his efforts or restraint, Blade kept finding himself at your front door, and thus, in your arms. Time and time again.

To Blade, each step you graced the ground with brought forth life: a child’s laughter, an old woman’s smile, the scent of honeysuckles. That was all your doing.

And Blade, was forever a shadow of destruction that was doomed to a life as devoid and blank as a starless night. Nevertheless, you were the stars. You littered yourself in his life; setting a subtle twinkle in the abyssal night of his being despite his lifeless form.

You were made of cosmic dust, maple wood and all the collective dreams of the universe. And Blade, who was undone bit by bit, followed you like a shadow looming behind in longing.

It had been so long since another soul touched him without underlying motives. He feared that.

Why did you harbour him in your house absent of fear? Why did your persistence invoke warm sensations? Why did your eyes unfailingly meet his?

Blade was keen on understanding you, yet, he gradually realized there was simply nothing to understand. Truth rolled of your tongue with ease and as for Blade, it got stuck in his throat, dying off. Yes, you were far from perfect, nevertheless, you carried yourself despite every thorn pricking your skin. Carving your way through each cavern; leaving subtle traces of discovery for him to follow.

The feeling swelled in his chest like a disease— and it terrified him. And yet, he could not put a name to it. A name to how his eyes lingered a touch longer than they should or how you rubbed his back. (And for the first time, he did not flinch at your touch or grab you by the arm.)

Thus, when the Astral Express offered you the chance to become a passenger, Blade clenched his fist and held his breath.

It was no wonder they asked you. After all, you were the polar opposite of what a Stellaron Hunter should be. You were amiable, mindful, calm, merciful yet seemingly lighthearted like a child.

Blade told himself that he dared not involve himself. You were a person of your own free will. Thus, you would deal with the consequences. There was no regard for him.

Nevertheless, the urge to tear you away from the conversation thrummed through his vile veins.

However, your reply would be forever ingrained in his sullen memory for the rest of eternity.

"I am honoured that you would consider me Mr. Yang," you articulate kindly, a smile reaching your lips, "But, I'm afraid I must decline."

"Oh? How so?"

You emit a silky chuckle, "If you asked me three years ago, I would have readily agreed," you pause then continue with vibrant eyes, "But, there are people I care for with my own life. It would be my biggest regret to leave them."

Until Blade can learn to fathom the extent of his own emotions, he will continue to linger beside you like a phantom or a shadow. Subconsciously yearning to nestle himself in your warmth, yet, always going through, a mere ghost of an absent lover in your presence.

masterlist

more angst :0 i think most of my blog will be angst lmao. btw this was originally posted on my other account @/mignonne02. i just took it down there. thank you for all the support! it makes me really excited to write more >> (please request btw) especially on my last post (diluc angst for life)

[snow-in-space]

Why Stan’s Winning Against Ford (Respectfully):

(This post is clearly all my opinion, so it’d be really cool to hear from Ford fans if you disagree or not!)

Originally I was just going to reblog @skipppppy ‘s poll about who the better twin is, but I got caught up making these joke bulletin boards:

And now, some joke bullets:

I want to make it clear that I love both characters, but I also need to tell you that I have a favorite, and it’s Stan. I don’t know how to explain it exactly, except that one of these men will make a “my aim is getting better” joke at a very poignant and dramatic moment to one up a mentally + physically abusive demon that has been violating his bodily autonomy for weeks on end— the other will make a “her aim is getting better” joke at the completely wrong time because he thought it was really funny. Although the stakes are so much higher, Ford ‘wins’ his interaction in a sense, and Stan ‘fails,’ leading him to harass children out of loneliness until he gets the lake police called on him.

I don’t know why that speaks to me more, but it does.

- Ford is fascinating as a man both made and destroyed by his own ambition, and Stan punched a dinosaur in the face for his niece’s pet pig.

- Ford took the advice of a literal demon over the concerns and fears of his oldest friend— Stan habitually robs businesses and anyone who lets him into their home without thinking twice about it.

- Ford is a loser who likes DD&D despite having seen creatures beyond most people’s imagination first hand— Stan sells people “a rock that looks like a face” only because he knows they’re dumb enough to buy it.

- Ford guts aliens and monsters on crazy, wild adventures— Stan runs a humble, small town business where he glues dead animals together for a living.

- Ford is wanted across the multiverse for committing crimes to take down Bill (he writes Stan off as a selfish criminal most of his life, despite justifying all his own crimes). Stan is a wanted man because he has committed “llamacide.”

- Ford grew up a genius and prodigy, lived his dream, gained a close friend and a ‘muse’— then squandered it all on accident by being a little dummy dumb who ignored all the warnings because he wanted to be famous (and not just FAMOUS, but unsurpassably famous, which is why he wouldn’t settle for anything less than his research and the portal). He spends the next thirty years dedicating his life to destroying Bill, because it’s for the greater good (and revenge, and is another high stakes goal for him to chase). Stan grew up to be a criminal and con artist, lost everything and everyone, worked endlessly and thanklessly for thirty years to get his brother back— for nothing more than that— and he still ships pugs in barrels across the Mexican border just because.

- Ford is a nerd facing nerd-like cosmic horrors and consequences. Stan is a man who has suffered earthly horrors and endorses child labor, but also gets his hands dirty in unearthly horrors because of said children.

- Ford shocks his brother by being hella buff and capable and involved with the demon bringing about the apocalypse. Stan shocks his brother by stealing his house, name, and everything else, and then committing more crimes.

- Ford felt stifled by other people and only wanted sidekicks he could project himself onto (he’d sooner fight god than come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t discarded/betrayed by the people he cared about, but instead mistreated them. Luckily he’s fought god and now he has no other excuses). Stan’s support system threw him out as a teenager and he’d blamed himself ever since. He’s alone until Soos and the kids come into his life and doesn’t take them for granted.

- Ford was further isolated and taken advantage of by Bill, facing great personal damage as a result. Stan takes advantage of countless others, but can’t click with anyone enough to cause any personal damage.

- Ford’s whole story feels so polished, dark, mature and professional— very fitting for a horror novel or sci-fi protagonist. Stan’s story is largely told through crude jokes in a children’s comedy show, but is still so rough on a closer inspection that it doesn’t get lost in its oddities.

In summary, it’s up to preference, but there is an interesting distinction in experience:

Liking Ford = a thoughtful analysis of an interesting man that makes me say, “lol, why’d he do that?” when he does something cute or stupid.

Liking Stan = asking myself “lol, why’d he do that?” every minute or so, and realizing I wasn’t ready for the thoughtful analysis that would take over my brain, but not change the absurd mess of his actions whatsoever. He has the comedy AND tragedy on lock.

[hyperfixat]

found this game in my steam wishlist 😭 i remember putting it in there and i forgot abt it for so long but i got around to playing it and !!! Okay!

So naturally, as one does, i decided to write a fic where u fucking kill yourself Obvious CW for suicide and overdosing on painkillers

(okay there’s kinda an open ending) anyway 1.2k words. GO.

You had no intention of winning your bet. Sure you taunt and tease the reaper, even before knowing who (rather what) he is, but you don’t intend on taking his soul. You wouldn’t even know how to take a soul if push came to shove.

It’s been an idle plan in your mind for years now. Suicide, that is. So when someone contacts you asking for your soul, you assume whatever god was overseeing you had a sick sense of humor.

Honestly, you think this “Grim Reaper” guy is planning on making a snuff film out of you. When you make your first call you think, this doesn't look like the type of guy to make snuff films. Hey, maybe he’s some rich pervert, using his fortune to prey on random people by installing spyware and stalking them before getting his rocks off to their death.

This false impression of Grim comes to a harsh end when he literally takes a stroll inside of you. And does stuff. You’re not quite sure what the hell that was about, but, again, this guy is either death incarnate or way richer than you had initially given him credit for.

You wonder if your ideas are graffitied on your soul, mindscape, wherever it was Grim ventured. It, this cosmically far away concept of the depression you have become, has been a shadow over your life. Surely it stained itself into your very being.

If there was any indication of that you’d like to think Grim would have mentioned the blight bleeding into you. But he doesn’t. So you don’t ask.

All too soon your week is coming to a close. You can’t lie to yourself and say you haven’t been falling for Casper (he had indulged you in his real name), but you’ve been looking for an excuse to do this for years and you won’t let someone you’ve known for less than a week hold you back.

Really you’re doing him a favor.

Maybe you should have done this sooner.

You are meant to be dead. Was it supposed to be by your own hands all along? Were you truly too much a coward until this very day to finally do it?

It’s cruel to leave your pet behind, but you hope they have it in them to forgive you. Grim seemed to think they were cute, hopefully he’ll agree to take care of them. You draft up a message to send to him before you trudge to your medicine cabinet. The value pack of 500 painkillers stares back at you, taunting.

No time like the present. You grab the bottle and take it to your kitchen, pouring a big cup of soda. You want to go out drinking your favorite drink and water is for losers. Popping the child safety lock off you pour out a handful of pills. How many would you have to take to get the job done, you wonder.

Well, it’s not like anyone else needs them, so you go handful by handful and down as much of the container as you can, before your stomach starts to ache. It’s likely the ache is from how full you are, but it could be your system beginning to realize something is wrong with your body, so you slide into your desk chair and open up the chatroom.

Grim is online. He’ll probably rush to your place. Out of excitement? Duty? Fear? Pity? There are too many possible outcomes, but you want to make sure the message gets sent, so you paste it into your chat bar, watching the line flickering at the end, prompting you to either send or type more.

Now your stomach is really starting to roll. You lean over and grab your trash bucket, holding it to your chest. Only when your burps start to taste like stale medicine do you hit the enter bar, sending the message.

Grim

What.

Grim

No

Grim

Don’t do it.

Grim

I’m coming over now.

Grim

KYS

Hm. That last message forces a chuckle out of you. Does he know what that means? An open contradiction; unless he’s gullible enough to believe it means Keep Yourself Safe.

Yeah, he definitely thinks it means keep yourself safe.

A bit late for that, though.

You have enough cognition to stumble forward and lock your window. A mere glass panel won’t stave death away, but hopefully you’ll have passed by the time Casper breaks it or breaks in through other means. You fall back into your spinning chair, and the momentum slides you halfway to your bed. That’s far enough away where you have a clear view of your window.

With glazed over eyes and a heavy slouch you watch as Casper flies up as if propelled by a very steep zipline. His eyes are wide and alert as he attempts to lift your window, a harsh contrast to your own.

He’s saying something but the window and your brain muffles it, probably telling you to let him in. Tough luck is what you’d tell him if your mouth wasn’t salivating so much. Casper bangs on your window at a frantic and fearful pace. Your emotions are swiftly changing.

You want to console him, hold him and tell him it’s alright. You know this is what you deserve, what’s been coming for you. Though it’s not in your best interest, you think your body is past the point of saving, not without some serious medical know how, so you stumble on deer legs to pop the lock open on the window.

Casper wastes no time in flinging it up and open.

“What have you done?” He’s all over you in an instant. Hands in your hair; hands on your face, peering into your dazed eyes, hands over your chest, hands feeling your abdomen. Casper looks distraught.

“It’s okay.” You reassure him, though your words sound oddly gurgle-y. “You win, it’s okay.”

“I don’t want to win. I forfeit, please, what have you done, tell me, I can fix this.” Casper speaks fast as if the haste with which he delivers his words will somehow fix you. His hands settle on either side of your face. “Look into my eyes, everything is going to be alright. I’m not upset, I’m not mad, please look into my eyes.” His words are like a mantra, and the desperation in his tone makes you compelled to follow his instructions.

The tears in his red eyes refract the light like rubies. You can’t imagine anything more beautiful.

“Can you imagine a bridge for me?” Casper’s hands are shaking against your face, the tremors get worse when you shake your head ‘no.’

“It’s okay.” You repeat yourself. “I love you, okay?” In another situation, far less serious than this, Casper would make fun of your excessive use of the word, but he barely notices.

“That’s alright, that’s alright, just keep looking into my eyes, got it?” Yes, you want to do that, Casper has the prettiest eyes. You wouldn‘t mind them being the last thing you see. That would be a lovely final view, you think.

They are.

the endings i thought of are:

one; you fucking die

two; casper establishes a soul mind link and gives you part of himself to keep your tethered to your body for long enough that you heal and you don’t die

[raayllum]

I've touched on this before in regards to TDP, at first just in regards to Claudia's consistent thing with fragmentation and then further in my meta regarding Rayla-Leola parallels, but I want to talk briefly about the Fixing vs Broken dichotomy TDP has been running with more subtly till S6 said, "Sit up and pay attention" so let's get into it.

First: what breaks things in TDP?

If you're a magical object, it's probably Callum but when it comes to people, things get a bit more complicated. We see the literal act of dark magic break people and families apart, both literally and metaphorically:

This on the one hand makes sense. Of course the characters and by extension their family dynamics or magic use is going to reflect the landscape of Xadia itself: literally split and divided down the middle, initially, due to dark magic use and how the elves and dragons chose to handle things. A broken continent and broken people.

Therefore, we see characters who want to fix things, particularly in TDP shorts featuring Claudia:

Her brother squirmed. “Clauds, Biscuit’s—” “—I know. But I fixed it. Now we can still play with her.”

Reflections Vol 1: Rise Again

It will be just like before, only this time, you won’t be able to fix him… [...] “Do not fear,” the Startouch elf had said. “You are a dark mage, powerful and potent. With my help, there is nothing you cannot fix. Not even death.” [...] “Let’s go,” Claudia told the creature. “I can fix this. I can fix anything.”

Reflections Vol 2: Lost Child

as well as in show canon:

This is reflected in magic use routinely throughout the series, as mages inherently use magic (primal or dark) to fix their problems and help those around them. Callum uses magic to try and fix Rayla's problems with her family; Claudia uses magic to 'fix' Soren and Viren's physical conditions, and is confused and upset when it isn't enough. Bringing Zym back to Zubeia 'fixes her "irreparably broken heart" (3x08) and starts to heal the continent. Wanting to fix things or keep things from breaking apart further is something that drives many of the main characters, most notably Claudia and Karim in their steadfast attempts to hold onto, or restore, what they still have to the way it 'should be':

This "I need/want to fix it" mindset isn't exclusive to the villains, but wanting to go back rather than move forward — heavily resisting change — does tend to be more common for antagonists (versus Viren's "I have changed") and more counterproductive when protagonists engage in it ("She's been trying hard to get things the way they were" "But things aren't like they were!").

Part of this, of course, is because breaking things isn't (or is rarely) exclusively bad in TDP, or that not breaking things is always Good.

And all of this comes back to, I think, one of the most interesting scenes in the whole show in both a "character perspective as an individual" standpoint and in a broader narrative way of thinking: Sol Regem's assessment of the world in 6x04:

Which of course begs the question: what is broken in Xadia, and what does Sol Regem think is broken in Xadia?

I'd be willing to wager given that Sol Regem seemingly reported and/or testified against Leola to the Cosmic Council that it's about magic use, but it could even be about the First Elves themselves leaving and the "long slow spiral to chaos" that's ongoing. For us as an audience, our context of what is broken (re: not functional and wrong) — especially by the end of S6 is the Cosmic Order system because it's not fair, the division between elves and humans, and the splitting of the continent, which is why Ezran argues for elf-human reunification, Callum uses primal magic for good, and Rayla loves her human family. Because what fixes things, routinely, is love, compassion, self-reflection, and mercy. That's what breaks the cycle, and allows people to fix themselves and their world views, their families, their mistakes. That's what allows healing.

We also know canon is gearing up towards something given Aaravos' endgame is some kind of great shattering, and given what it implies, both immense suffering and good will likely come out of it:

I have not seen the stars in centuries. But when I see them again—when the stars are forced to look upon me, their dark brother—they will know how I have waited. And when everything they have built lies shattered, I will savor their fall from the sky.

—TDP Reflections Vol 1: Patience

Because Sol Regem is both right and wrong.

Xadia is broken — but our team of heroes can and will save it.

[fanfreakinfiction]

My Gods Are Not Kind to Lonely Mothers

Chapter 2: Trying to Understand

Ch. 1 | Masterlist 🖤

4.3K words // Din Djarin x pregnantf!reader

Pairing: Din Djarin x pregnantf!reader (Reader is younger but not weirdly young) Reader was a sex worker. Reader’s first language is one I made up she speaks pretty good basic but struggles finding certain words. Reader is pregnant!

Summary: How can Din understand and respect your plans without being apart of them? He tries to help, but your stubbornness rivals that of a Mandalorian.

Tags: SLOW BURN, Some fluff, made up Star Wars culture & religion, split POV, slight language barrier, mention of death, mention of child death, dark!, lots of relationship building in this.

Warnings: mention of child loss and grief.

A/n: Alright so let me explain Illa-ishi real quick because I never want to get the wrong idea across. Illa-ishi are mainly single mothers who birth at the lower pool of the Mountain of Mothers. The reason why Illa-ishi give birth at the lower pool and pass away, isn’t the gods punishing them for being single mothers. The journey up to the lower pool when a mother is in the throws of birth is so rigorous and difficult without the help of their partner that many perish from exhaustion. By the time they make it up the cliff to the lower pool some do not even have energy to give birth which is why there are skeletons in the bed rolls. Please comment or ask me questions if anything is ever unclear! Also I know this is a shorter chapter than Ch. 1, I initially wanted this to be a two part series but I found I have more to write than I thought. Anyways, enjoy this soft chapter! I will update this series every Friday.

Standing in the pool, you felt his hand on the right side of your waist. He'd carried you from the spot near the cliff into the shallow end of the hot spring and set you down into the water as if you were sacred. Paralyzed by the sudden display of kindness after the last months spent alone, you felt the cold metal of his helmet lean heavily on the back of your head.

A slow fear crept up from somewhere deep inside the traumatized confines of your heart, the fear immobilizing you to his actions just as they'd done the night he paid for your company. Frozen in place, thoughts of him pushing you into the spring and drowning you flooded your mind. Then you felt his left hand rest on the small of your back, leading you to think he'd take you again as he'd done in the expensive room back on Tatooine. You'd worked in that brothel for years and saw the desperation of men in need, the aftermath of what they'd done to women they had no emotional attachment for.

Just as you started to form a plan of action against him, you heard the softest noise from behind. It took maybe thirty seconds for the sound to register within your mind – he was crying. The strangled sound of a sob left the static of the modulator on his helmet, which was then followed by the most sincere "I'm sorry" you'd heard since the day your father had sold you.

For a moment, you just looked ahead at the milky waters of the spring and the steam swirling around you. The small green baby that the Mandalorian had brought with him sat nearby the shallow end of the pool, gazing into the water below, his small hand chasing the steaming swirls that rose into the air. You felt the life within you stir, your contractions coming inconsistently now, almost as if your body was confused. The warmth of the leather-clad hand on your right side tightened slightly as you heard one more sob break over the roar of the waterfall.

In a show of cosmic irony, you couldn’t help the small but sad smile that graced your lips as you trailed your bandaged right hand up to lace your fingers over the back of his hand, and you spoke, “Don’t cry.”

His sobs seemed to quiet, as if he hadn't expected your touch, your reassurance. The tension in his grip lessened. After a moment of his head resting on the back of yours, you assumed he regained his composure as he slowly pulled away. Shyly, you looked over your shoulder and offered a small tearful smile to his visor before turning your attention back to the spring. Taking careful steps forward, you found a place to lower yourself back once more into the murky depths. You moved to sit where your back was resting on the jagged rock wall.

Out of your peripheral vision, you saw him standing in the same spot. His hands were frozen in the air where they’d rested on your body, until he slowly clenched his fists and lowered them back to his sides.

He stood like a statue just looking at you, his weight shifted to his left, the grey of the flightsuit around his knees now a dark grey from the spring's water. The edge of his grey cape touched the surface of the spring, wetting the frayed and somewhat burned seams.

You felt an awkward discomfort as his helmet seemed locked in your direction. It really made you uneasy that you couldn’t tell where his gaze was or what emotion was on his face. Was he happy? He had cried… you had done the same when you found out.

“You-”

“What’s-”

You both spoke over one another in unison, causing a blush to creep up your neck as you looked away. As if some unseen force felt the tension in the air, the small green child, enamored with the steam of the spring, fell face first into the warm water.

“Grogu!” The Mandalorian’s voice bordered on panicked as he moved from his stiff position to where the child had fallen in. In a swift movement, the Mandalorian had grabbed the child by the tan robe he wore, pulling it to the surface within seconds of the splash. The child blinked his large eyes frantically as he let out some displeased grunts. Holding the child above the water now, the Mandalorian looked the child over and then moved to hold him in his arms. “We’ve talked about this…” The Mandalorian sighed as he looked at the child. You couldn't help the smile that graced your face.

"Does it get into problems?" You spoke carefully as you tried to remember the words in basic.

Being on your homeworld was the happiest you’d felt in years, and slipping back into Kith, your native language, was like putting on your favorite dress. But coming out of Kith back into basic was proving challenging; maybe the Mandalorian spoke Huttese, which you knew almost as well as basic.

“Yeah…he does,” the words fell in a resigned huff from the man clad in silver as he held the now dripping child.

“Oh…Is he…your child?” You asked slowly as you gauged the man’s reaction. Your eyes flicked from his helmet to the water covering your belly where your hands fidgeted under the water. Anxiety filled your thoughts as you waited for his response.

After a painfully long silence, the Mandalorian sighed and shifted to set the green child on the ledge of the spring nearby and sat next to the child, leaving his covered feet in the spring. Adjusting his cape as he sat, he turned to run a gloved hand over the child’s tan robe before speaking in your direction.

“It won’t look like him…if that’s what you’re asking,” he said dryly, and your head snapped in his direction, studying him for a moment before you thought he might be trying to joke. A smile graced your lips as you moved in the water to slowly approach him. Your right hand held onto the spring’s rocky wall as you moved towards him and the child who fidgeted with a metal object around his neck. Within a foot of the child, you looked the soaking baby over with a cocked eyebrow and critical eye before turning to face the Mandalorian.

“He is…” you paused, trying to find the word in basic as you felt a rush to do so, “…c-ute,” you sounded out the word slowly and looked up at the man sheepishly as the child made a surprised “eh!” sound and smiled toothily at you.

“Basic isn’t your first language?” It was almost not a question from the Mandalorian, and you couldn’t help but feel a hot embarrassment from his tone.

“No,” you said as you turned away again, caressing your belly under the water, “I am Kith.”

“I am Mandalorian,” he said, and you thought he might be patronizing you.

“I see and know,” you retorted back as you shot a soft glare his way.

A sound emanated from his helmet, and you thought it might be a sigh. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he started to say as he reached into his bandolier for something. “I am Mandalorian, but I am different from other Mandalorians. I am bound by a creed.” He pulled out a piece of paper as he spoke, and you recognized the paper immediately. “The Mountain of Mothers…” he spoke again as he unfolded the pamphlet. “You’re here because you believe in this?” He asked as he looked over the paper.

You eyed the pamphlet that Don Mai must have so generously forced into the bounty hunter’s hand. Your eyes trailed from the pamphlet back to his helmet, and you nodded your head yes.

“I understand,” he says as he looks over the pamphlet, the child next to him suddenly taking interest as well. “The creed I believe in… it is my responsibility to take care of foundlings.” His helmeted gaze shifts slightly from the pamphlet to the child next to him.

“Found-i-ling?” you repeat the word back to him slowly in confusion.

His head turns to look at you, and he hands the pamphlet to the child who plays with the paper.

“Foundling,” he confirms with a small nod. “Children who are adopted by my people, warriors of Mandalore… This is the Way.”

Your gaze moves from his to the child next to him, and you nod.

“He is found-i-ling,” you say in confirmation as you nod your head toward the green child.

The Mandalorian nods in confirmation, and you see his hands clench the edge of the rock.

“And you…” he starts, “you are also my responsibility...”

You hated that word. Responsibility. Such a long word that was so often thrown in your face as a guilt tactic. The foreman who your father had sold you to made sure you always had responsibilities.

You were no more than eight when your father had sold you to the greasy man on Tatooine, and your life had been work ever since. The foreman wasn’t completely cruel; there were masters on Tatooine that were far worse. You had a bed, food, and even a bath. The foreman protected you from disgusting prying eyes of patrons who thought you were merchandise and not just a helping hand. But he also worked you to the bone, washing pillows, washing gowns, sewing gowns, steaming tapestry, cleaning the rooms, making meals, fixing the building, making errand runs – your responsibilities.

“No,” the word fell from your lips as if it were law. The Mandalorian’s head tilted towards you as if he didn’t hear you.

“Yes. You are my responsibility,” he repeats. “This is the Way.”

“No.” The word was slightly more harsh coming out as you turned to face him now. The sun had finally fallen behind the sky, and you were almost surrounded in darkness as you stared him down.

You could sense his hesitation, the momentary lapse in response, but the Mandalorian was resolute. “It is the Way. We take care of our own. The Creed guides me, and I cannot abandon my responsibilities.”

The weight of those words hung in the air, the silence stretching between you. The cold grip of your past life clawed at your heart, and you couldn't bear the thought of being bound by another's expectations. You had yearned for freedom, for a chance to shape your own destiny, and here, in the darkening solitude of the hot spring, those dreams seemed to be slipping away.

—

Your face was starting to turn pink from the heat of the spring as the word left your mouth. Din sat there staring, or truthfully, he was glaring at you from under his helmet. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say your stubbornness made you more a Mandalorian than it did a Kith. He battled with himself; this was not a place he wanted to be.

Din had always been careful when it came to his intimate business. When he and Xi’an would mess around, he would always pull out even though he knew she had an implant. He’d never actually finished inside anyone before, not until he’d taken you. To ease his guilt, he had told himself it was because of his inebriated state, but he knew by the time he’d slowly stripped you in that warmly lit room, the Corellian Whiskey had worn off. Maybe it had been because you were the first virgin he’d ever taken, the tightness of your heat on his fingers like a Dathomirian witch's call. Maybe you were a witch, which is what he was trying to understand, trying to learn more about you.

His eyes had scanned the pamphlet now being crumpled by Grogu’s hands. He realized the Mountain of Mothers was a sacred place, much like the living waters on Mandalore. The stubborn part of him wanted to scoop you from the spring and carry you back to his ship to take you to Mandalore, but he couldn’t do that. You were too close to birth and he really had no place to interrupt your plans… plans he hadn’t been a part of. The dark parts of his mind reminded him.

"What is your plan?" He found himself asking you. He watched as you looked up at him from your spot beneath the comforting spring waters, your brow furrowing. You had placed your right arm on the surface ridge of the pool and had laid your head down to watch Grogu.

"I will rest here," your voice sounding tired, your hair damp from the steam as you offered a sad smile.

"For how long?" He asked next, watching your face carefully to gauge your emotions.

You shrugged and looked down at your belly. "Until Noona arrives.”

Please. Kriff. Please don’t let Noona be the name for this child, his child. He cringed internally.

"Noo-na?" He repeated back, trying to hold down the unhappy tone of his voice. You nodded your head as if he was an idiot.

"Noona," you said with a nod. "Or… Baby."

He breathed a sigh of relief, just Kith for baby.

"Then what?" He asked as Grogu stirred next to him, clambering up into the Mandalorian's lap, leaving a trail of water and the now soggy pamphlet behind as he climbed.

"We rest," you said sadly.

He didn’t want to admit it, but he was getting frustrated with this beat around the bantha approach.

"After you rest?" His voice sounded a bit more terse than he intended. He watched as your head snapped up at him in annoyance, feeling confusion at your sharp reaction.

"We rest," you replied back, matching his terseness.

"For how long?" He gritted his teeth.

You splashed the water as you threw your hands up slightly and glared at him. "Forever!" You shouted back at him, and confusion laced his face.

"I don’t understand," he replied, as Grogu pulled at his bandolier from his lap, a sign he was getting hungry.

A moment of silence lapsed as your gaze slowly traveled to the skeletons surrounding the pool, now shrouded in darkness. You sighed as you looked at the remains mournfully and then slowly back to your belly.

"Illa-ishi come here to rest, forever," you said.

The skeletons and bone fragments all made sense in his mind now, and it made him sick.

"What?" His voice was laced with confusion and a hint of anger.

Before he could register the emotions swirling in his chest, he was already standing up in the water. Grogu, sensing the shift, looked up warily at his father. The Mandalorian glanced over at the pack leaning against the black jagged rock next to your bedroll, and he moved towards it out of the water.

—

Your heart raced as you watched the Mandalorian abruptly leave the spring and walk towards your pack and bedroll. You watched with bated breath as he set down the green child next to your pack on the ground and knelt down to your bedroll.

"NO!" You shouted as you watched him start to roll the bedroll back up. You quickly moved from your position in the water, walking carefully towards the edge. In an instant, he was moving in front of you, leaving the small child behind. It frightened you to see the speed at which he moved, the menacing aura he gave off as he moved to bend down, eye level with you.

He rested one hand on his right knee and the other hand on the ground next to him as he spoke.

"I am trying to understand your culture, but I will not allow you both to die here," his voice was menacing and sharp, bringing tears to your eyes.

"We are meant to die here," your words came out laced in pain and fear as you tried to stare him down. His hands balled into fists as he stared back at you.

"Why," he asked, and you could tell he was angry, and it wasn't fair.

Why was he angry when he had played no part in the last months?

You instantly felt remorse at that thought.

Throughout your whole pregnancy, you wouldn't allow yourself to think ill thoughts of him, afraid they might pass into Noona. Really, it wasn't his fault. You had no way of contacting him.

After your night with him, you'd taken your cut from the foreman and bought transport off of Tatooine. You spent weeks hopping planets and seeing different worlds, grateful for the credits you'd saved over the years, but even more so thankful for the six thousand credits that bought your freedom.

When you found out you were pregnant, you'd been staying on the mining world of Gorse, visiting the moon Cynda known for its illustrious thorillide crystal mines. You felt as if your freedom was snatched from you once again.

You knew this meant you were destined to be Illa-ishi and knew you'd be birthing a dead baby at the lower pool. It hurt, and you felt it wasn't fair, to you or the life inside you. A life that wouldn't exist outside of your own body, which is why you hadn't even bothered seeking out the Mandalorian.

Besides, all you had to go off of was the sigil on his pauldron, and since the Empire decimated Mandalore, it was impossible that you could find him again. Most Mandalorians had gone into hiding, and being already two months pregnant, there wasn't enough time to try and figure it out. You had accepted that you would be alone, that you were Illa-ishi, and that you could only enjoy the months ahead while Noona grew inside you.

You had traveled back to Kith in your fifth month of pregnancy and taken up work alongside Don Mai, the self-appointed mayor who graciously offered you a job in the fuel station. But soon your time was up, and you'd started your journey three days ago with the accepted belief that you'd never leave the Mountain of Mothers.

Still, the rational part of your mind sympathized with the man staring you down. You honestly believed you wouldn't see him again, and yet here he was. You knew that Kith was a planet along the outer rim, and nobody cared to understand your culture. Your people were not warriors like Mandalorians, nor powerful witches like Dathomirians. Your people were peaceful and slow.

Don Mai had a point about one thing, "People need to see the wealth of culture we have here. Kith would want the galaxy to know of the sacrifices he made for his wife."

—

Your eyes searched his visor, and he watched as you struggled internally. For a moment, he felt shame at his tone because it elicited a glassy look in your eyes, but he was angry. Not angry at you but more angry with himself. He sat eye level with you, waiting for your explanation when he heard a sigh leave your lips.

“Illa-ishi do not make it to the upper pool to give birth,” Your words offered little to soothe his confused anger. He opened his mouth to speak, but you continued, “Illa-ishi die at this pool with our babes, as a price for our solitude.”

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. You truly believed you would die here, along with the life he helped create. He rose from the crouched position as he looked down at you in the now looming darkness.

He studied your face for a moment before his eyes drifted lower to your full breasts and belly. A twinge of pride at the sight of you was quickly extinguished by the look on your face. You looked sad, like you didn't want to believe what you did, like some part of you wanted to make it to the upper pool. Slowly he extended his right hand down to you before he spoke, “You are not alone, not anymore.”

—

Helping you from the pool carefully, he watched the steaming water rush off your body, leaving droplets all around you. A shiver quickly rushed through you, and he cursed himself for not being more prepared when he left his ship. He didn't even bring Grogu a snack. He stood in front of you, unconsciously zoned out as he tried to think of his next steps.

He didn't realize how uncomfortable you'd become by his gaze until you moved your hands to cover yourself in shame. Your face was flushed pink, and he realized you assumed he'd been standing there staring at you like some teenage boy. He felt a rush of embarrassment; he normally never spared a thought for anyone, never cared what they thought, but for some reason, he really didn't want you to think ill of him.

"Get back in the water," his voice was low, and it almost startled you.

He saw the look of confusion on your face, and he sighed audibly. "Just… you'll be warmer in the water until I can make a fire," he said reluctantly, and he watched your eyebrows shoot up.

"A fire?" You almost sounded excited.

He nodded as he moved to help you situate yourself back into the water.

The green child cooed from his spot, now sitting on your bedroll as he watched. After situating you back into the water, Din looked back to Grogu; he could tell he was getting hungry and tired.

"I need to go collect wood. Would you… just make sure he doesn't get into trouble?" The Mandalorian hesitated to ask you for anything, but he knew Grogu would just inhibit what could be a quick task. He watched your face as you glanced up at him from in the pool and behind him to the child.

"Yes," you said, almost so quietly that he strained to hear it.

"I won't be long," he told you as he stood and immediately walked over to the edge of the cliff to make his way back down toward the forested area.

Left alone with Grogu, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of emotions. The Mandalorian had been harsh, distant, and mysterious, yet he had also shown moments of compassion and care. You watched the child as he cooed and played with his small, metal pendant, seemingly unfazed by the ordeal.

—

The thought of a fire excited you after three days of eating cold food and sleeping on the cold ground. Maybe if Noona was tired and not ready to come, you could actually enjoy your last night of sleep. Surely Noona would be here tomorrow?

"Rissi, Noona?" (Right, Noona?) You spoke to your oddly calm belly. You thought back... when had your last contraction been? After the Mandalorian had shown up, but that had now been almost two hours ago.

You felt unease rise up into your throat.

You only felt this afraid once during your pregnancy, and it was when you hadn't heard Noona's heartbeat at the small makeshift medical office in the fuel station. It wasn't until you and Don Mai had realized the medical droid's radar equipment had malfunctioned that you found peace.

But now you could feel the panic and no peace. A part of your mind was whispering that Noona was already gone. You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes as you started moving frantically towards the shallow part of the pool. You rested your left hand on the soaked fabric of your dress as you clambered towards the edge of the pool.

"Pessi Noona... Pessi!" (Please baby, please.) you whispered frantically as you tried to feel anything. The rock floor of the pool felt harsh under your bare feet, and you slipped a little at one point, causing you to stumble.

From your right, you could hear the small green child make a grunting noise. Pushing yourself up in the water, you felt your breath quickening with panic as you moved out of the water. Tears were coming hard, and you couldn't stop the sobs that came from your mouth.

"Pessi a Noona! Pessi! Pessi!" You cried as you made it from the pool to the harsh gravel-covered surface of the rock surrounding the pool. Looking down at your belly, you pressed your hands rather harshly to feel. You could make out two lumps at the top, maybe knees? You couldn't be sure.

You felt a tugging on your dress, and as you tried to look down past your belly, you caught a glimpse of a green ear. The small green child tugged fervently on your dripping gown.

"Noona a nissa movissi" (baby is not moving), you tried to explain to the small green child who you could hardly see. You sobbed and tried to move toward the bedroll. Through your tears, you heard the small child behind you as his feet pattered softly on the rock behind you. You moved to sit on a rock nearby, lowering yourself to the ground, you planted your feet and caressed your belly.

"Pessi Noona, gividas sotissi" (Please baby give me something), you cried as you continued pressing frantically, trying to get Noona to move or kick, anything.

You felt the lightest touch on your arm as you sat and hyperventilated. Looking to the left, you saw the small green child look at you curiously. His large brown eyes were full of so much emotion, something you couldn't place. Before you could make another sound, you felt the edges of your vision begin to fade.

Maybe this was it... the last moment with you and Noona... would the Mandalorian come back and disturb you? You didn't want to leave the Mountain of Mothers, you wanted to die here with Noona, stay here with Noona, forever…

The last thoughts flashed in your mind before you felt yourself succumb.

"Rest," a small voice whispered through your mind.

[roguelov]

consider, reader who sees a little of Morpheus nightmare side for the first time (maybe they’re having an argument or something idk) and instead of being scared is kinda into it. This is news to both of them

You get me you so get me and I got you 😌

“You are being ridiculous!”

Dream scoffed. “And you are acting like a child.”

You whipped your head over glaring heavily at Dream. “Bold of you to say when you are the one who constantly throws cosmic tantrums.”

Dream gritted his teeth. “You are walking a fine line, my dear, I would suggest you to heed my words and stop now.”

You crossed your arms, rolling your eyes. “I am not going to back down just because you say so, oh great Lord Morpheus.”

Your voice dropped with sarcasm as you spoke his title.

Dream stepped forward. Instantly, the tone of the argument - an argument neither of you could remember as to why it started - shifted. Wind blew across the bedroom, disgunishing the roaring fire and leaving a few glowing embers. An eerie chill was left in the air.

Dream’s figure in the dim light grew.

His once vibrant blue eyes were distant cold and dark galaxies. His form loomed over you as shadowy tendrils danced around you eager to ensnare you. You craned your neck back to just barely maintain eye contact. When he spoke, his voice rumbled as if a dozen people spoke at once. And it didn’t come from in front of you, but from all around. It sent a shiver down your spine.

“My dear,” he growled, still heated by this senseless argument.

You knew he was about to ridicule you, to explain how and why you were in the wrong, yet your mind - despite the heat of the moment - had taken a turn you weren’t expecting.

You nervously swallowed gazing up at the King of Nightmares. It wasn’t nerves due to fear, oh no far from it. A certain lust whispered in the back of your mind as it purred with potential. You tried to stomp back those idiotic sinful thoughts, yet they gleefully tortured you with countless ideas and scenarios.

Worst of all, Dream saw this change.

He saw how your breathing stuttered, he saw how your eyes casted to the side lost in your spiraling thoughts, he heard how your heart stuttered, and he saw how you rubbed your thighs together. The observation shocked him, yet you couldn’t tell. You weren’t looking at him, nor could you even distinguish any facial expression in the dark lighting.

Dream’s anger now had a new purpose.

He bent down. His twinkling onyx eyes held a bit of mischief. A tendril gently caressed your chin, sending a jolt through you and forcing you to look up.

“Perhaps,” he purred, “there is another way for you to listen and heed my words.”

You swallowed.

A tendril curled around your throat, gently squeezing. A whimper hummed in the back of your throat, making Dream’s lips curl into a devious smirk. Other tendrils reached out, curling around your wrists and ankles keeping you in place. One sneakily slid between your legs, giving you the briefest - and sweetest - friction. A lovely sigh tumbled off your lips.

“Now let’s see how well you can listen.” The tendrils grinded against your clothed core again making your knees buckle. Yet, you stayed up right in his grasp. “And maybe, just maybe my dear, I’ll reward you for your good behavior … however I do believe you should be punished for your insolence first.”

You were in trouble, but it would be the sweetest and most wondrous trouble.

[thecosmicangel]

I want to know how you guys found the law of assumption, or how it found you? Feel free to share your stories.

I’ll tell you guys how I found the law, first of all I want to say that I knew about law of attraction, and I always knew I could manifest things easily because I would simply get it after a while. I must admit I had limiting beliefs such as “if it’s meant to be it will be” or having to wait in divine timing, I also practiced tarot and I was learning about astrology. For me astrology even though I still find it interesting I would always doubt why there was always certain beliefs about certain transits or planets, like why are we all going along with what’s being written on a book and simply because someone had studied it for years and said this is what will happen? Like why is there so much fear for certain planets & transits? Or why is it not good to manifest in this day & stuff like that. At the end of the day it’s all simply an assumption too,plus if they are placing their awareness on a certain assumption in relation to a planet obviously it will manifest because they are giving it awareness….Anyways I knew that our words are powerful when it comes to manifestation & I would practice positive affirmations here and there but I was never consistent. I was raised catholic but I always doubted or questioned religion because since a child I didn’t understand why we needed outside source/ God when I always felt it was all within us. So as I got older I didn’t identify with being catholic I just knew there was a higher power and I trusted in that power, I knew we all have to be connected to that power so I would pray by talking to myself and asking that power “God/ Divine power” for guidance. Long story short I had a situation I wanted fixed and I felt “stuck” so one night I decided to ask God to help me find the way out and to make things right. So one day I was scrolling through Twitter and I found people talking about the law of assumption and sharing their story, I then started to look into the law and started learning about subconscious programming, that is when it all clicked for me, and I knew my “prayer” was answered. For me prayer/ manifestation are one in the same thing. So I basically manifested the law of assumption to find me/ I find it. Learning about the law and actually practicing it has healed me and helped me become the best version of myself, not only that but I also just feel more connected to God because I know it’s always been within me + I am an extension/ reflection of God. My mental health has improved so much since practicing the law of assumption, and I don’t let fear get in my way because I know I’m the operant power of my reality.

-xoxo, the cosmic angel ⭐️🪽

[sotwk]

Happy Birthday to you! Love your campfire party idea! I’d like to request a drabble about Steve Rogers/Captain America.

Thank you so much!

Thank you for the request, @zeldastrife, and for giving me a chance to dream about my favorite superhero of all time! <3 I really enjoyed writing this and I hope you and others will love it just as much. :)

Content/Genre: Marvel; Gen fluffy summer romance

Fireworks

Steve Rogers x Reader

Ever since you were a child, the fireworks show has always been your favorite part of the annual Fourth of July picnic. But now they were merely a convenient cover that allowed you to fixate on the sight you truly wished to openly stare at. 

He must have seen so many firework displays in his long lifetime, and with him being a war veteran (a gross understatement), you wondered if the sound of the roaring, cracking explosions bothered him. But the relaxed expression on his face, tipped toward the brightly, colorfully lit night sky, gave no indication of discomfort. 

Dressed in a plain gray t-shirt, jeans, and a Brooklyn Dodgers baseball cap, Steve passed for a run-of-the-mill all-American, allowing him to spend the entire day mingling with the rest of the townsfolk, quietly charming everyone with his gracious, easy manners, but never drawing prolonged attention to himself.

Who would ever expect Captain America to attend a small town, middle-of-nowhere celebration on such a significant holiday? No one would ever believe it, and none of the folks who had looked the living legend right in the face and spent several minutes chatting him up suspected a thing.

You yourself could still barely believe the entire day, or any of the past few weeks that led up to the present moment, was actually real. Steve Rogers was your date. Your love life catapulted from a woeful, lonely drought to dating literally the most perfect man in the entire nation. To think you had nearly turned him down for fear that this was all an elaborate prank or some cosmic joke. But thank God, truly, for the sudden, miraculous ability to not let your deep-seated anxieties get in the way this one time. 

Steve’s renowned bravery was slowly rubbing off you; you could tell. Every moment you spent in his company, you felt yourself becoming more comfortable and confident in your own skin, as though you were learning to see in yourself what he probably saw in you. Good things that he decided were worth his time and interest. 

That courage began to stir and bubble up inside you while you continued to watch Steve watch the fireworks. You knew he was a staunch gentleman, forever rooted in his old-fashioned ways. Four dates in and he's never done anything more than hold your hand or give you gentle hugs. 

He would not like a girl who’s too forward. The brazen courage smothered down the nagging warnings in your head. Or just give it a try, this braver side of you proposed.

You reached across the small distance between you and slipped your hand over his arm, folded across his chest. His intent blue eyes immediately shifted to you, and the smile he gave made your heart stutter.

Before your courage could get snuffed out, you rose on your toes and swiftly planted a kiss on his clean-shaven cheek.

“Happy Birthday, Steve. I hope you had fun today.”

With the daring deed done, your electrified nerves shorted out, and your gaze fell to the ground, heavy with growing shame. Hopefully the memory of that one kiss would be worth it, if this was to be the end. 

His strong hand closed around yours, squeezing gently, returning your strength to you. That hand then shifted to the small of your back, drawing you against him.

“Today was…” His fingers ghosted across your jawline before resting, lingering underneath your chin. Your own hands came up to his chest, your head was spinning and you so badly needed to steady yourself. Suddenly you noticed his heart was racing, pulsing furiously underneath your palm. 

“...perfect.” His chest heaved as he finally finished his sentence, and for a fleeting, ridiculously giddy moment right before he pressed his warm lips on yours, you realized that Captain America had been rendered nervous and breathless. Just for a moment, but it was all because of you.

This limited edition Marvel fic is a gift written as part of SotWK's Summer Campfire Sleepover 2024. (Requests accepted only on July 11-15, 2024.)

[waltzingwithyourenemyattheball]

PICK A PILE: WHAT DOES YOUR SOUL WANT TO SAY TO YOU?

Top Left = Pile 1; Top Right = Pile 2; Bottom= Pile 3

Pile 1:

So pile 1, welcome to your reading, remember to take only what resonates and do not force any messages to apply when they don’t.

Lets begin!

I see that you will be presented or have been presented with an opportunity and now are at crossroads. This could be related to a job or a relationship, and the decision is especially hard to make since it will affect others around you as well. It could require re-location for some of you, or a lifestyle change at the least. You may look to your elder sibling or friend for advise. Your soul wants to let you know that it is a decision that must be made. You need movement in your life, you cannot be in a state where you get too comfortable in the ‘I am still thinking about it’ phase. For some of you a lifestyle change is long due, you have been thinking of going minimalistic, FOLLOW IT. You feel life and everything at the moment is too much, too much noise, too much clutter. Start by cleaning out everything that you have no use of. This will bring you more joy, more peace in life. To help you, it is telling you to some self work. 

SELF-WORK 

At night, close all lights, light a candle, keep it at eye level, and watch the flame. 

2.Whenever your are journaling (which you must start, if you haven’t already) do it in sunlight in the day, and with candle light at night. You will feel the difference. Go analog, please do not journal digitally. PLUS write the moon phases with the date, you will get a lot of insight about your own self. If you do this on a new moon day after a day of water fasting(do not do anything your health does not permit, consult a professional), it will help you get connected to the cosmic energy of the universe. During this time, keep your phone and all electronic devices away and before journaling, clean the energy of the space using sage or a bell. 

THE 2nd POINT IS VERY VERY POWERFUL ACTIVITY. Keep doing this regularly and see the change yourself, let me know your experience with this as well. 

Thank you for letting me read for you, and please provide feedback.

Pile 2:

So pile 2, welcome to your reading, remember to take only what resonates and do not force any messages to apply when they don’t.

Lets begin!

You have been feeling stuck and lost. You as a person are really afraid of losing but since you have been stuck for a while, you have grown comfortable in that environment and are scared and hesitant to go on a new journey because you fear failure. It is a natural thing, please don’t beat yourself up about it. However, now that the problem is known, we can fix it. Start by doing small thing where the outcome is certain, things that you know like the back of your hand. It could be as simple as cooking your favourite dish to knowing the entire lyrics of Single Ladies, literally anything, what we are looking for is building confidence. Now that confidence is built we will push out limits just a little bit, and slowly we will start doing things we are uncomfortable with which involves moving forward. ALWAYS REMEMBER YOU ARE NOT YOUR LIMITING BELIEFS. YOU ARE A CHILD OF THE COSMOS WHO IS AS MAGICAL AS THE UNIVERSE ITSELF.

Thank you for letting me read for you, and please provide feedback.

Pile 3: 

So pile 3, welcome to your reading, remember to take only what resonates and do not force any messages to apply when they don’t.

Lethargy, Boredom and Proastination. These were the words channeled for you. You guys need a digital detox and an energy boost. Drink more alkaline water, this will boost your energy instantly. It would be beneficial if you joined ‘Vipassana’ somewhere, it is a 10 day retreat for silent meditation. This will reset your energy and coding system ( by coding I mean, social media=happiness coding will be changed). Oh my, this is so cute: Your soul is telling you to be around puppies, go to your nearest shelter or dog cafes if you don’t have a pet yourself, just be around animals, especially kittens and puppies, but for real, I am getting golden retriever energy. You need that in your life. You know you want to achieve things and be more enthusiastic, and happy and you wanna laugh so so much but you are disconnected to that energy. You might also have fear of failure or you might have been stagnant for a while. Remember, action leads to more action. If you go on a simple walk, it will become easier to fix your bed or fix that light bulb that has been in need of attention for a while. You do have the potential to be discipline. Love yourself enough to be disciplined, it is the greatest form of self Love there is. Do not rely on motivation, it does not work, what works is willpower. If you are kind of person who listens to a bunch of motivation speakers, please stop doing that, it is not useful for you. 

Thank you for letting me read for you, and please provide feedback.

Love, 

Love. 

[minhosimthings]

To bring the Stars down

Synopsis: In which you have a late night stroll with your lover

Pairings: Hyunjin × fem!reader

Warnings: fluff fluff fluff, mention of food, did I mention fluff

A/N: HYUNJIN BRAINROT WOOHOO. Look it's his fault HE JUST HAD TO POST THOSE BF CODED PICS ON INSTAGRAM DIDN'T HE. I'm telling you, they got instagram accounts to make us more delusional. Also I know this is really short but look my brain couldn't write anything more without me giggling every two seconds. This is for my darling @astraystayyh . May this make you as delusion as you make me everyday 😚

The night sky is an interesting thing isn't it? To describe the night sky is to describe a prism. Many sides, one surface, yet a thousand colours passing through it, making it a painting no frame could handle. And yet humanity has been afraid of it, fearing what the dark may bring. Of course it may bring chaos. But hasn't anyone thought about how it could bring calm? Calm as in to look up at the stars and wonder which one loved which? For when you love the stars, why would you be afraid of the night?

"Darling?" Hyunjin's eyes slowly shot open, feeling his legs being attacked by an invisible force, the invisible force being you, fidgeting around and twitching in your sleep. Hyunjin leaned slightly over to you, watching as your eyes were screaming to open up. Your breathing was shallow, and your forehead was covered with cold sweat, glistening under the influence of the soft moonlight coming in through the windows.

"Darling." He shook you by the shoulders gently, "Darling wake up." You could feel Hyunjin's warm hands caress your head as your eyes shot open, your body almost about to fall off the bed. "Nightmare?" Hyunjin whispered into your ear, voice raspy, as you sunk into his comforting embrace, like a ship succumbing to the sea. You hummed in response to him, not being able to get words out of your mouth. Your throat felt dry and all you wanted to do was stare up at the ceiling.

"Would you like to talk about it?" Hyunjin said, keeping his tone quiet, as if he was talking to a broken child. "No." You mumbled, as Hyunjin drew shapes onto your back with his finger, "Just want you." It seemed childish to you, to admit that you needed a person to comfort you when you were upset. It was as if you were a child, throwing a tantrum because her birthday balloons were green instead of pink.

Hyunjin smiled into the crook of your neck, where he has buried himself, like a rabbit burrowing itself into a hole. "Do you want to go for a walk?" Hyunjin suggested, loosening his grip on your waist, "See the pretty stars?" "Please." You sighed, letting out a breath which was trapped in you for what seemed like a cosmic year.

You dressed yourself quietly as Hyunjin stood outside in the living room, having dressed himself at the speed of Helios' chariot. "Wear a scarf my muse." He picked up a scarf of deep red wool from the hat rack, an unusual place to keep scarves, "I don't want you getting sick and missing our pottery date this week." He added as an afterthought. It made you smile softly, the way he would try to cheer you up. It reminded you of the time you first asked him the lingering question, 'why do you love me for who I am instead of who I pretend to be?', and he answered with something that you swore would have been the cause of your tombstone, 'Because you cannot love a rose, without pricking your finger on its thorn." He kissed your forehead, "Because you cannot paint a picture without having a flaw." He moved down to your nose, "Because the stars would never be beautiful without the night sky." Great first kiss wasn't it? A memory you'd hold onto for all of eternity.

The wind was chilly tonight as you roamed the streets with Hyunjin, causally willing away time. The lights from the few shops that still remained open, slightly blinded you, as you could see the owners contemplating whether or not to shut down for the night.

"Wait here darling." Hyunjin squeezed your hand before disappearing round an alleyway, leaving you all alone on the bench. The streets were quiet, an invincible fact considering that it was nearly midnight. Your eyes lingered up to the sky, tracing all the stars which rested on it, quite akin to freckles dotting someone's skin. You spotted a peculiar figure along the far right. No one told you Venus would be visible this late tonight. It decorated the sky well, like the mole on Hyunjin's face, which you would have loved to curl up in, like a cat snuggling up in her bed.

"Ta da." You heard a voice behind your ear. Hyunjin was holding a bouquet of magnolias, with tiny periwinkles gently poking out the corner. "I got us hot chocolate too." Hyunjin put two paper cups down on the bench, slightly adjusting his scarf. You took time in amusing yourself on how his cardigan and scarf made him look like an old suburban grandma, who'd knit the prettiest sweaters for her grandkids for Christmas.

"What's going on in that pretty mind of yours?" Hyunjin interrupted your train of thoughts, stiring his hot chocolate with the plastic stick. "Nothing." You smiled, "Just you and your stupidly beautiful face." Hyunjin raised a hand upto his chest, faking an expression of shock, which made both of you laugh out loud, the sound echoing through the night. The winds of Notus, Boreas, Eurus and Zephyrus ran through time like an expatriate, as you sat and sipped on delicious, gooey, melted chocolate. The best invention man ever made, you thought.

"Want to talk about it now?" Hyunjin quietly mused as you edged closer to him on the bench. You let out a breath and let your head lean on his shoulder. "I had a dream that you fell into a blackhole-" you started to realise how silly it all seemed, "-and that you never came back and your last words were 'How could I ever love you?'" Hyunjin stayed quiet for a while after you said your words. "it's silly." You mumbled, wearing a defeated look on your face. Hyunjin turned to look at you, his face all pink from the chilliness of the atmosphere. "Well I guess I can't go to work tomorrow." He sighed dramatically. "Why not?" You chuckled, sensing that he was about to do something silly. "Because-" his eyes widened, "-I have to find dream Hyunjin and destroy all his paintbrushes! How dare he do that to the love of my life!"

Your face widened into a grin as you laughed out loud, holding your stomach. Hyunjin's eyes crinkled as he smiled widely, his plan of making you happy working. "You wouldn't ever destroy paintbrushes." You gasped for air, loosing too much in the process of laughing, "Even if they were owned by someone you hate." Hyunjin merely shrugged at your words. "When it comes to you, my muse-" he embraced you tighter, "I would destroy the night sky to bring the stars down."

[kyriefae]

The Flux/Series 13 was a super fun series. (fair warning; spoilers ahead)

Am I a fan of the fact we were starved for content for so long just to get 6 episodes and a few specials in like what 3 years? No. But the episodes we DID get were so great!

I could feel the intent to inspire wonder in the world-building of the Whoniverse again. I heard lines purposively written to punch out a few cheap laughs while moving the plot forward. These are things that are inherent to the legacy of Doctor Who. Whimsy, coy humor, and satire.

Where certain plot points had fallen short of expectation, it was clear Chibs had taken at least some of that feedback and applied it to making the 13th series a memorable one.

Also:

Karvanista! Who's a good boy?! 🤗 Wait, hold on, maybe that's too presumptuous. Who am I to judge anyone's moral status on appearance alone? 🤭

Such a fun character with a classic Doctor Who "secret backstory". On a deeper fan appreciation perspective, this series was and still very much is a sandbox for creative innovation.

The side characters we met in these 6 episodes felt so well established and grounded in the narrative. Eustacius Jericho facing his death in a poignantly heroic way, Vinder & Bel's love story, Dan's earnest appreciation of Liverpool (and most importantly history), heck even Claire was worth her salt as someone to revolve the story around.

Was she captivating? Well, we're talking about narrative structure here so *clearing throat; failing to hide obvious blushing* no? I mean, no. She's really just a vessel for the Weeping Angels to have a voice which makes for an interesting plot device but it also sidelines her own independent will in the story. Still, when that's a "weak point", you're doing well!

Also, Yaz was incredible and I felt like we were finally able to grasp at her individual companion status. Prior to the departure of "the fam", she was the prototypical companion choice but we were splitting time with Graham & Ryan. A common fear people had before the series came out was the inclusion of Dan Lewis being an obnoxious and obvious replacement for Graham... but I don't believe his presence in the story had that lasting effect.

In fact, I think of the scenes we had with Yaz, Eustacius, and Dan as being a time for Yaz to shine in particular as a leader. Clever, calm, and concerted in her efforts. Yaz's demeanor is the only reason that facet of the journey was successful. Her relationship with the Doctor was empowering in that way we impact others through positive experiences. She pushed herself to become more motivated as our time with her moved along and we were rewarded with a meaningful degree of success in her arc through this story.

Plus her love for the Doctor felt so real; so fated to be one-sided.

Rose's romantic attachment to 9/10 had the advantage of an entire plot built around her; elevating her importance to the Doctor as a being we came to know, for a time, as Bad Wolf.

With Yaz, she is, in fact, an ordinary human who doesn't get to have some immense cosmically significant role with a title that gets plastered across the whole of the universe for the Doctor to piece together like a puzzle. She is an incredibly smart and capable person; she is also mortal.

Say what have you about Yaz + 13 (and I have my opinions too of them never kissing) but the Doctor keeping a distance from Yaz while acknowledging her feelings was still rather intentional and thematically moving.

You learn you're this being known as "The Timeless Child" and you've lost innumerable lifetimes of memories while beings you encounter ON THE REGULAR are persistently trying to tear the universe like a chew toy for their pleasure? Sorry, love. Maybe attachment to a human isn't a wise choice after all...

It's a decision made in a moment and a moment is all Yaz & the Doctor have. It adds levels to the tragedy of a romance with such a being that can travel all of time and space.

"All of time and space but no room for me?"

-a line I may have written for Yaz before it was all over

🥹

Maybe I'll write some fan fiction one day around The Flux. Around 13 & Yaz. Maybe something with Karvanista & a version of the Doctor forgotten to time.

Anywho, I love this show. I love it for all it's many eras. I love it for many different reasons. I truly believe value can be had in finding those aspects of enjoyment even when one Doctor or one era speaks more to us individually because what does the opposite hold? What does boundless criticism of "the writing" ever truly amount to?

The internet is teeming with "expert opinions" on how Doctor Who should have been made after every new season but gods is it the rarest thing to find people who choose to love it for everything it has already been and everything it can always continue to be...

That's all from me for now, my lovelies. 💞 Take care, get a shift on, and snack on something that brings you a little joy. 🍪 Kisses.

[starryeyed-seer]

A couple jabs at Sixth Coil theorizing

Three guesses based on clues/hints at what's inside the coil.

....I ain't got a clue!!

Okay, I do, but it's always hard to feel confident and I know I'm thinking too much about my own bias. But hear me out!

Establishing details

The games are sacred to the tigers, but are not games the tigers intend to win. It's important the games go well and are visible to all, and there's an obvious nervousness to the organizers

The 6th coil and it's opening, however sacred, is not a dignified thing- it's more a grim duty.

We get here also the title 'Ambassador to the Heartlands of the Messenger' (That's the Bazaar!!) (Ambassador to the Messenger's HEARTlands huh?) and 'Gaoler of Sins' (Shames are sins, and Stone herself is (prob counts) a Shame. So the title is 'Ambassador to the Bazaar, and jailer of sins'.

Hearts are such a broad big theme it's really hard to know whose hearts we're talking about. I'm not certain what we know about Stone's heart. My instinct is that it is the Garden, or lies within the Garden. Stone and hearts are usually mentioned as 'the heart of the Elder Continent'. There's also The Sunken River (ES) which has a lot of heart mentions: below the zee, Stone's wounds have create a cave of blood and a living mirror-heart-entity. But that Heart is called 'a mountain-child', not Stone's heart.

The end of Heart's Desire takes place within the heart of the Bazaar. The Bazaar also had a body part called 'The Cladery Heart', which was surgically removed (to remove the urge/need to travel) and is not likely to be a literal heart.

Another place we hear about Hearts is here, at the shrine to the Mountain's Mother in SSeas. THE BIRTH! THE HEART! THE CHAIN! We don't know what the Birth of Stone was like. What does the Heart mean here? But we all know the Chain.

It's not known if the 'To Assemble a Heart from Dust' was specific to the tomb colonies winning or if dust was always going to be the word used. frustrating.

WHAT IS IN THERE/WHAT IS GOING ON:

1. A sealed away love

The doors to the 6th coil are sealed. Not shut, but sealed. There's no blueprints of what is beyond, because it probably doesn't exist in that kind of way. Each time we clear an event, a new sigil appears on the door, and it will open with all four. This is a correspondance gate.

The reoccurring dream for the event is a good hint. We run through a battlefield, not caring about the conflict but instead our love (who looks just like us). There's a place where the war doesn't dare tread. And an invocation of royalty.

Our love is locked away and feared. Their dread heart is locked away, and they're restrained by chains. Glass invokes Parabola and mirrors, but glass-forged could also refer to The Chain more broadly. We love this monster who is not meant to be seen, and we're trying to open the gate. In the waking world, we're doing games on the Tiger's behest to open a mysterious door.

I think Stone could have a forbidden love of her own with something from Parabola. This feels almost too up my alley, but I don't think it's out of the question. The 6th coil could be a prison, and the Games are the rare time they are allowed to reconnect: The tigers hate the is-not, but must allow their god this. It's sacred but grim. FL loves narrative parallels. It's funny to complicate the cosmic family tree even more. what if the sun had a fingerking for an in-law. Stone dreams of flight, maybe Stone met another monster to fly with.

2. More Tigers

I haven't mentioned people who go to the 6th coil don't seem to return.

The cats suggest it's always humans who go in too. It's odd to think something like this would happen and it wouldn't be better recorded in history: the last Coilheart games were during the fourth city, not insanely long ago. If the Tigers shoved some people in a death pit, end of games, you'd think that'd be remembered with resentment. (The Neath is full of ways to alter and forget memory though). People go in, they don't seem to return. But that doesn't mean they die.

My first thought on this line was that the winners become the prizes, somehow: transformed into entities like living statues crying gold tears or w/e. Suitable freaky neathy fate.

But... This is a theory someone suggested on the discord. Tigers.

........................look. What are tigers, anyway? Raised to serve a divine purpose by Stone.

The tigers at the Wakeful Eye imply the tournament is competing for something they already own (but also reference 'that shadow', again some shame to this coil). I don't know what they own beyond a great blessing from Stone. Maybe you go into the coil and you turn into a tiger, is what I'm saying. Have we ever seen a tiger cub?

(I don't know why this fills them with such disdain though- dislike sharing?)

Maybe other Coilheart games no one pressed charges because the people who went in didn't die- they just didn't come out quite the same.

3. More tigers (jailed)

Maybe in the sixth coil you can finally go see some tigers at the zoo behind bars, because it's where fingerking possessed tigers are stored. They gotta open the door sometimes for humane reasons. I don't know what the treasure is here. Secrets?

4. literally anything else

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I'm loooooving this estival though such a blast!