#is it too much too ask for their eternal happiness in the afterlife?

[chickensandwitch3s]

‘He falls on the body. The knowledge rushes to him, choking off breath. A scream comes, tearing its way out. And then another, and another (…) Patroclus, he says, Patroclus. Patroclus. Over and over until it is sound only.’

- Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“And perhaps it is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone. [...] When he died, all things soft and beautiful and bright would be buried with him.”  🩸

“In the darkness, two shadows, reaching through the hopeless, heavy dusk. Their hands meet, and light spills in a flood like a hundred golden urns pouring out of the sun.” 🌻

Two souls, reunited.

(quotes from Madelline Miller's The Song Of Achilles)

[gibbearish]

smth i think ppl who werent raised christian need to understand is that a) fear of death will make you do things you wouldnt otherwise do and b) being raised christian fundamentally kneecaps your ability to process death. most christians are the way that they are because if the bible isnt true, if god isnt real, then neither is heaven. if there is no heaven, then all their loved ones who have died arent actually waiting for them, there is no place theyll get to spend forever with the people they love now, there is no eternal reward for being good, there is no guarantee of any afterlife whatsoever. and as science progresses and christianity becomes harder and harder to maintain, as various claims in the bible get disproven and we learn more about how life actually came to be, that possibility that Death Might Actually Be Something They Have To Fear After All gets stronger, and so that protection of the idea must get stronger too. the bits of the bible that are too hard to defend have to be removed or papered over or talked around, the rules that dont make sense have to be explained or maintained without question, the people who dont believe must be agents of satan sent to damn their soul to hell. the way they learned to cope with death is to say it didnt happen, not really, not in a way that mattered, theyre still out there somewhere, youll see them again someday. and with that came a promise that their death wouldnt be permanent either. it all has to be true, that heart has to be maintained, because otherwise. otherwise, this is it, and we dont know what happens next. otherwise, death becomes scary again. otherwise, death is no longer the loading screen before your eternal reward. otherwise, they have to think about what might come next, how their actions affect others here and now, fully grieve the people theyve lost, grieve the eternal life of happiness and love they were promised from birth. and that is. hard. and while obviously none of this excuses the way they treat people, i do think that like. keeping that in mind during interactions with them, being aware of how high the stakes are for them, can very much effect the way you approach those conversations.

at the heart of every horrible christian with bigoted views and worse actions is a scared little kid who doesnt know where you go when you die, because the answer they were given when they first asked is turning out to be full of holes. and while you may not be able to work with the adult in front of you here and now, maybe you can at least find that little kid for a moment. maybe you can sit down with them and say yeah bud, that is pretty scary, isnt it? it's scary not knowing what's gonna happen to you. it's scary learning something you thought was true might not be. maybe you can tell the kid that theyre allowed to be scared, that being scared doesnt have to mean hurting others. and maybe the kid wont listen, maybe youll have wasted your time, who knows. but maybe not. and even if you did, youll have learned something about how to find that kid in others, so was it really a waste?

[ozwriterchick]

Spencer Reid fic...

A/Note: This is my first Spencer Reid fic so please be kind. This fic is thanks to @navybrat817 who convinced me to give it a go when I had no faith in being able to write this loveable character.

Characters: Spencer Reid, Other BAU team members; Reader (1 mention of Y/N)

CW: Secret relationship; a bit of angst but not much; some fluff; happy ending; Spencer being a forgetful genius (yes, he's a warning); If i missed anything, let me know

W/C: Approx 2080

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

“Spence, you promised.” You sighed.  This was not the start to your morning you had expected.

Your fiancée, Dr Spencer Reid, lifted his head from his breakfast reading material with a confused look on his face.  He might be a genius with an eidetic memory and one of the main players in the FBI’s famed Behavioural Analysis Unit at Quantico, but he seemed to easily forget the most basic things.

His confusion only lasted until he saw the stack of envelopes in your hand.  “I was supposed to send those, wasn’t I?” he asked.

“They were supposed to go out a week ago Spencer.  The RSVP date is next week!” you reiterated.

“I’m sorry Maat, I’ll send them today.”

You blushed, after all this time, the pet name he gave you when he found out your job and obsession still works on you.

On your 2nd date, Spencer asked what you do for a living.  This led to a deep discussion about your work as a librarian at the Smithsonian and your overpowering obsession with all things ancient history.  In particular, the gods and goddesses of ancient Egypt, Rome & Greece.

His question of which were your favourites didn’t take long for you to answer.

“Well,” you began “My favourite god is Anubis.  He’s the jackal-headed god of the Egyptian Afterlife and mummification and that kind of thing.  Without Anubis, none of the Pharaohs could enter the eternal afterlife.  He weighed their souls and guided the dead, rich and poor, into the Afterlife.”  You realised he’d gone silent and that maybe you’d just word vomited at him and had probably said Afterlife way too many times. You hoped you hadn’t scared him off.

You looked up at him and opened your mouth to apologize, when you saw such a look of awe on his face that you hadn’t seen on a date in a long time, well if you’re being honest, you’ve probably never seen it.  He’d tell you on the day he proposed that his is when he fell in love with you.  When he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

You then, in much fewer words, told him your favourite goddess was Gaia, the Greek goddess of the Earth.

Spencer resolved, at that moment, to read everything he could about these gods and goddesses so he could converse knowledgeably with you.

After he'd done his research, which involved speed reading everything he could find, he decided you were his Maat.  Maat is the goddess of Justice, Harmony and Balance.  When he called you this for the first time, you asked why.  He simply replied that you bring Harmony and Balance are what you bring to his life, it’s what you are for him.

“You’re probably best giving the ones out at work you know, you see them every day.”

He looked at you hesitantly.

“Or are you still not wanting them to know about me?”

This was a small point of contention in your relationship.  Early on, you understood Spencer wanting to keep you safe from the pitfalls of his job.  However, now you are engaged, you thought he’d bring you into that part of his life more.

You know he wants the team, as his pseudo-family, at the wedding, but achieving that would involve actually telling them about you.

Suddenly a plan formed in your brain.  You were glad Spencer’s attention had returned to his breakfast and reading material and he wasn’t looking directly at you, so he didn’t catch on that you were plotting something.

“No, I promise you it’s not that.  There’s just so many important things running through my head at any one time.  I just forgot.”

“Oh, more important than marrying me?” you enquired, a little bit jokingly but also, a little bit seriously.

“Don’t be like that my love, you know that’s not it at all.  I love you so much, I can’t believe I’m the lucky guy that gets to call you my wife soon.”

“I know, it’s just sometimes, I wonder.”

“Well, don’t.   Give them to me, I’ll put them in my satchel now and in the post box on my way to work.”

“Nope, I’m going to send them.  At least that way I know they’re gone and you’re not trying to stall this wedding.”

“Sweetheart” he began, “I’m not stalling.  But if it makes you feel better, then go for it.  At least give me the ones for the team and I’ll give them out today when I get to the office.”

You filtered out the invites for his team, handing them to him and putting the rest in your bag. 

A few minutes later, as he was leaving for work, you gave him a quick peck on the cheek, reminding him that it was his turn to cook tonight.  You smile at the roll of his eyes, he’s not a bad cook but you can guarantee it will be takeout tonight.

You rang Spencer on your lunch break.  He usually took lunch around the same time of day as you, so you knew you could have a conversation without issues of people being around or listening in.  This happened most days he was working in the Quantico office.

During the call, you asked him how his team had reacted to the invitations. You were pretty confident he hadn’t given them out yet and this was all part of the plan.

After he left this morning, you noticed he had, once again, left the envelopes on the kitchen table, forgetting to put them in his satchel.  You knew he hadn’t given them out because he couldn’t, but that also means he hadn’t even tried yet.

“Oh, I haven’t had a chance to give them out yet because…”

“Spencer Walter Reid, I am sensing more and more that there’s something else going on.  If you want to postpone, or cancel, this wedding, you better tell me know.”

Spencer couldn’t believe you would think that, more importantly, he couldn’t believe he’d made you think that.  He knew what the fallout could be of everyone knowing about you and he was just hesitant about that.

"Maat, my love, I’ve never once been hesitant or unsure about marrying you.  It is a big thing, everyone knowing about you, putting you in the line of fire, as it were.  It’s just that massive change that is making me nervous.  Not you.  Not getting married, Never that.”

You sighed loudly. “I believe you Spencer, I just need you to back it up with actions love.  Just promise me they’ll all have their invitations by the end of the day?”

“I promise you, I will give them out today.”

About an hour later, you walked up to the Quantico building asking for SSA Aaron Hotchner, with the envelopes in your bag.  You’d mailed the rest of them, or given them out at your work this morning.

Aaron came down and confirmed your security clearance with the front desk and asked why you didn’t just let Spencer know.  You told him that you’d been waiting on Spencer to give out some invitations and he kept forgetting them so you figured you’d have to do it yourself if you wanted it done, and probably as a surprise.

You hesitated when the lift doors opened on their floor. Were you doing the right thing forcing this to happen?  You didn’t want to irrevocably damage your relationship with Spencer by forcing the meet and greet with the rest of Spencer’s team.

You stepped to the side so that you couldn’t be seen from inside their offices.  “Is this wrong Aaron?” you asked him.  “Maybe I should just take them home and not force this meeting.”

“Listen, you know Spencer loves you, we both know he wants this, but I get why he’s hesitant about, well, sharing you with the team.  Sometimes I wonder, if Hayley hadn’t been exposed to this..”

“Hotch, Spence told me all about what happened, it wasn’t your fault.  I just don’t want to make him angry by forcing the team to meet me, but we are fast approaching the rsvp deadline for this wedding.”

“Do you want me to send him out here.  I really think he’ll be ok with whatever you do.”

“No, let’s do this….” You explain your plan to Hotch who grins like he’s masterminded the whole thing with you.

Hotch opens the door to the BAU offices and walks in with you beside him.  You can’t believe this is the first time you are seeing where Spencer works.  Of course you see the back of his head because his desk kind of faces away from the main doors.  He looks like he’s deeply concentrating on whatever it is that he is reading.

Some of the team members are milling around one of the desks and when you walk in with Hotch they look up to greet him and you see the startled looks on their faces.  They all looked at each other, then back at you and Hotch, waiting for someone to say something.

“Mornin’ Hotch” said the one you pretty much knew to be Derek Morgan.  From Spencer’s detailed descriptions of each person, you were confident you knew who each person was in the group.  “New team member?”

“No Derek.” Hotch replied.

“Well then hello gorgeous Mama” he grabbed your hand to shake it and lifted it to his lips to give you a kiss.

You could see Spencer out of the corner of your eye and he was just working out that a conversation was going on without him that maybe he wanted to be a part of.  You saw him turn around and realise who it was with Hotch.  The look he gave you was both priceless and stunned at the same time.  You could clearly see the confusion on his face as to why you were there.

He stood up hesitantly raising his eyebrows at you.  You gave him a small smile so as not to give anything away.

“Well, I have some invitations for you lovely people to an upcoming event that you might want to attend.  So I came to give them out because my.. ummm.. assistant” you said pinning Spencer with a glare, that none of the team seemed to catch.  “Kept forgetting to post them.”

Spencer heard what you said and his brain was even more confused.  How could you have the invitations, he’d brought them with him that morning.  He lifted his satchel and opened it, realising he had, once again, left them at home.  He looked up at you, suitably apologetic in his glance and then put his head down, got up from his chair and made his way over to the rest of the group as you gave out the envelopes.

“Wait, you forgot Spencer.” Said the one you knew to be JJ.  A sort of best friend to Spencer, who you felt might be the one who felt the most betrayed that he hadn’t told her about you.

“Oh I didn’t forget Spencer” you said. “But maybe you should open the envelopes and you might see why.”

One by one the envelopes were opened and the shocked looks on their faces said it all, as they read:

‘You are cordially invited to the wedding of Y/n Y/l/n and Spencer Reid’

Derek turned to Spencer “Pretty Boy, you dirty dog.  You’ve been gatekeeping this gorgeous woman for how long?”

Spencer walked over to you, put his arm around your waist and replied “Oh, for about 3 years now” he happily turned and gave you a peck on the cheek.

“And you’re getting married?  Spencer, why didn’t you say anything” asked Garcia.

“And why are we only just now meeting her?” JJ again.

“Well, you know with everything, Spence thought it would help keep my safe if as few people as necessary knew about me but, as you can see from those invitations, we’re fast coming up on a certain day that you guys can’t miss.  Please say you’ll all come.  We would so love to have you there and I’d love to get to know all of you better.”

There was a chorus of yes, and of course, and Derek even put in a “try and keep me away”

You were so happy that this had gone well and that Spencer didn’t seem angry at all and that all of his work colleagues really wanted to know you and help celebrate your wedding in a few weeks.

Taglist: @wolfbeanpotion

Let me know if you want to be added.

[coffeeandbatboys]

Cyare Darasuum

Pairing: Ghost!Wolffe x fem!reader

Warnings: AU where Wolffe dies during order 66. Grief, blood, fatal injury, reader death, reunions, afterlife.

A/N I can’t seem to write Wolffe without some angst. Divider by @saradika-graphics and rb banners by @dystopicjumpsuit

It definitely took some getting used to when Wolffe appeared as a ghost. Neither of you understood, since Jedi were supposed to be the only beings capable of that; and even they had to train themselves.

Nobody else can see him, which makes you wonder if you might actually be going crazy. He keeps watch over you, his beloved, at all times of the day. You'd rather have him as a ghost instead of not at all, but you find yourself constantly aching for the comfort of his arms. It’s been too long since he held you, and you’re afraid of forgetting the feeling.

His dry, snarky personality hasn’t changed. The two of you still fall into the same banter you always have. That, you’re thankful for.

When you're finally wounded badly in action, rebelling against the Empire that took your husband from you, it's not sadness that fills your heart, but joy. Joy that you'll be with him for eternity.

You hiss in pain as blood seeps into the dirt beneath you. Wolffe's hazy apparition hovers worriedly as tears sting your eyes.

“Ironic,” you laugh bitterly. “Till death do us part, except death is bringing us together.”

Wolffe manages a small grimacing smile, but he knows he won't ever be able to erase the image of your blood pooling on the ground.

“Close your eyes, ner kar'ta. I love you so much.”

You do as he says, focusing on the hope that you'll be with him as darkness creeps from the edges of your consciousness like burning flimsi.

When you open your eyes again, you’re in a lush, vibrant meadow.

A hand—a warm, firm, calloused hand—grasps yours, and you look up to see Wolffe’s mismatched gaze. Not the transparent silver mirage that’s followed you for a year, But the man you fell in love with. The man you married.

“Welcome to forever, Mesh’la.”

A keening cry leaves your throat and you fall into his waiting arms, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he softly shushes you. You feel no pain. You feel no grief. You only feel overwhelming happiness and love as you cry in your husband's embrace.

“Is this real?” You ask, hand tracing his face; his cheekbones, down to his chin, across the scar over his eye, drinking in the sight of him.

Wolffe presses his forehead to yours, as if to answer.

“Yeah, it’s real. We’ll never have to be so far apart again.”

As his nose bumps against yours, a promise echoes in your mind.

Ner Cyare Darasuum.

My Eternal Beloved.

[kyumisyumi]

Duet

It would've probably made more sense for me to write this about Soap but there's tonnes of Soap content and I'm tryna feed the starving.

Warning: Quickly written, barely proof read

Ship: Nikto x Banshee!Reader (F)

Word count: 1k

⊱⊶Taking requests⊷⊰

It was like throwing up pins and needles, using your voice after so long. The sounds clawed against your throat as if begging to never see the light of day. Your own song fighting to return to the darkness of your vocal chords, wishing to never be uttered. But this wasn't your song anymore and that's why it needed to be sung. Needed to be released into the cool air to meet the oracles in the stars. It was an ugly tune; gargles and keening as your emotions morphed into rancid sound. Your bloodline had ended decades ago. You remember the moment the elder, happy without child, closed her eyes for the last time. The final composer of your songs laid for eternal slumber with a smile turned towards your distant figure. Her end marked the beginning of your hibernation. A solemn existence. You lied to yourself that it was a prize for centuries of dutiful work, but loneliness festered inside your core as your wondered for years without purpose.

Then came the sound; timber against timber. The click of a composer's wand. Something you never thought you'd hear ever again. Click click. You were being summoned. Called for by Death to let you know your job was not finished. Like a hound to its name, you followed it. Your apprehension and confusion weighed heavy but no force inside you was stronger than the instincts pumping through your inhuman form. Click click. Like children to a dinner bell, you followed it. The fabrics draped around your greyish body clipping in and out of reality, snagging on branches when it unfortunately caught only to dissolve into mist. Stones and twigs piercing your feet before phasing through your ethereal form. Click click. Like sunflowers to the morning rays, you followed it. Something inside you beating feverously; a life that wasn't your own cradled within your chest. Click click. Like a magazine into a gun, because that's exactly what it was. When the thrumming inside your chest calmed down, you could finally hear the sounds of gunfire whizzing through the air. Hoof beats storming the ground revealed to be the boots of man. Soldiers. They bolted through the concrete and dirt of wrecked structures, firing their weapons into their own kind. None of that mattered to you however, you had seen war plenty of times. All that mattered were the clicks that called for your song and the person holding the gun. Click click.

It alarmed him, naturally, when he began to hear the eerie melody of a woman's song. It first reached him amidst a fitful attempt at rest within his small tent. Nikto wasn't sure what to make of it. Another case of his mind playing tricks on him? That the enemy had released hallucinogens into the air? However, when he'd asked his comrades if they heard it too all he'd received were worried looks in response. It was in his head then. Was this karma? Had all the lives he'd taken conspire in the afterlife to haunt him? If so, this was an odd tactic; to sing him hymns rather than rip his soul from his flesh to drag it down where he belonged. He'd tired himself out clawing at the walls of his mind, trying to find a source within. And so he just listened, all of him. It drove him insane almost as much as it brought him peace. Words he could not decipher being whispered in a tune unknown yet somehow familiar. A song that wasn't in his memory but somewhere deeper, somewhere more him than he could ever conceptualize. No matter how much it unnerved him to hear this mysterious singing, the way it warmed his body and stilled his mind became a drug to him. If this was a new level of madness, he had little complaints.

When he heard it in the midst of battle, the effects were reversed; it riled him up rather than calm him down. Like the being was singing life into him. It diffused into his skin to settle within the nerves and muscles beneath his flesh, pushing him ever forward. It whispered truths he'd always known. That he was a harbinger of death, a machine of violence serving those who wrote his cheques. How he felt about it made no difference to what he was. Nobody. Not a person, just a weapon. It felt almost blasphemous to commit acts of cruelty to music so beautiful but his body called for it. A head he'd bashed into a wall, a spine snapped beneath his feet, this bloodshed was his offering to the being that sang for him. To the unknown creature that had decided to take up residence in his mind.

This felt right, this felt like destiny. Nikto carved his path into the enemy stars like the bullet through his chest. Falling to his knees like a man in prayer before laying to meet the Gods.

It was only then that you went to his side, looking into the confused blue eyes of your composer. They searched yours, forgetting where he was and what he was doing as the shrouds of your body filled his vision.

"женщина[woman], sing for me." His voice was much like the metal instruments he played.

You held his hand in both your own, watching the calm slip into his eyes as he listened to your ugly wails. You'd heard the lyrics he filled in. Oh, how they made your heart bleed. But now, in his final moments, you sing to him in words he could understand. Serenade him with the truth of who he was, cradling him to hide his tears. The thumping in your chest was slowing down as your song mellowed to it's end. The final verse came in the sound of a rattle.

[weenwrites]

How would tfp OP, ratchet and arcee react to a reader that can see and interact with the dead? Like upon first meeting reader immediately asked optimus why is there 12 ghosts clinging to you? (12 past primes) and can share information from their own planet even they didn't know and can relay the decepticons plans(cuz ghosts don't see the need of secrets and like to gossip). For arcee, reader just tells her "he wants you to move on and be happy" (ref to cliff) thx!

[ Please do not repost, plagiarize, or use my writing for AI! Translating my work with proper credit is acceptable, but please ask first! ]

Optimus

Of the millions and millions of years that he's lived, that is the first time that someone has ever brought that up to him, and it's needless to say that he is beyond confused. He'll ask you what you mean when you say 12 ghosts, and even if you start explaining that you can see ghosts, he doesn't quite take you at your word first.

But once he finally does believe you, he finds the information you relay to be rather useful and very helpful, so he begins to seek you out for help when it comes to plotting against the Decepticon's plans. Of course there are some ghosts that are too blinded by their loyalty to Megatron to even consider exchanging information with you, but when that comes the case, Optimus attempts to help you sway them to your side.

At times the two of you have deep discussions about the afterlife, death, and existence as a whole. He'll tell you of the cybertronian notion of the afterlife, the allspark, and the well of sparks, and he'll listen to you talk about the human version of death and existence. He wonders about what causes their consciousnesses to remain, and if you have any answers for him, he would very much like to learn more.

Ratchet

Yeah yeah, sure, you can see ghosts... He's rather dismissive of you when you first try to tell him about your special ability, and the only way to make him believe you is with solid, concrete evidence. And even then, all he asks is about the afterlife before leaving you be.

The notion of another form of existence after someone dies is... Morbidly interesting to him... As comforting as it is to know about what's to expect when he dies, he's disturbed by the thought that all their fallen comrades have been wandering around for countless years as ghosts, forever cursed to exist for the rest of eternity... Unless you tell him that ghosts eventually fade or die a second time, then, well he reclaims his previous statement.

Arcee

Yeah no, she doesn't really buy it that you can see ghosts until you mention Cliffjumper, because there's no way that you would've ever known about him unless you were part of the team back when he was still around... And speaking of Cliffjumper, she's happy to hear that he had a message for her. While it isn't easy to just "move on", she tries her best to keep going.

And... Speaking of the afterlife, she asks you what it's like. She's always had the notion that there wasn't much to it. After life, there'd be nothing, and your spark would return to the well to be reborn—well, that's how cybertronians think of it, anyway. But as you explain it to her, she has mixed feelings about the fact that there are dead transformers from bygone eras that can still roam around. It's as if there's no ending to "existing", and that sort of horrifies her.

[the-marshals-wife]

Rookie Jitters (Wolf Jackson x Reader)

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ⋅☆⋅ 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

A/N: Happy Halloween! 🎃 Besties, I didn't even plan this one ahead of time. I watched Beetlejuice Beetlejuice for the third time, and the inspiration struck. This one's for the Willem Dafoe girlies. You always keep it real. ;)

Description: Wolf Jackson x Fem!Reader, meet-cute fluff with a light sprinkling of angst | Warnings: death mentioned many times (nothing graphic, mostly humorous), guns mentioned, canon-typical creepiness of the Neitherworld | Setting: post Beetlejuice Beetlejuice | Word count: 2,266

Imagine being Wolf Jackson's new secretary, and being nervous to meet him

If your heart could still beat, it would have stopped. You stare at the yellowed paper in your hand that detailed your new job description, and your eyes lock on the name of your boss.

"I'm working for Wolf Jackson? The Wolf Jackson?!" you gape.

The poorly mummified woman across the desk doesn't look up from her clipboard. She slides a folder towards you, and you resist the urge to recoil at her half-decayed arm.

"I don't know who that is. I just hand out the forms. All the details will be in your file," she replies placidly. "Says here you're being assigned to the Afterlife Crimes Unit."

"Crimes Unit? I think there's been some sort of mistake. I'm not in law enforcement."

"Look lady, whatever the paper says, that's where you gotta go. I don't make the rules," she dismisses, pointing with her boney finger, "You go out that door, down the hall, third door on the left, down the stairs, and take the second right. Big doors, you can't miss it. If you wind up in Lost and Found, you went too far."

You nod, trying to absorb the directions as your head swam with new information.

"Could...you maybe write it down for me?" you ask.

The clerk looks over her glasses at you in silence.

You smile nervously, rising from your seat, "Nevermind. I'm sure I'll find it."

Hurriedly gathering up all your paperwork into your arms, you make your exit from the office before the woman's glare could kill you a second time.

While you navigate the dim, winding passages, your thoughts return your destination, and who you might find waiting there. Was your new boss actually Wolf Jackson? Frank Hardballer himself? You seriously consider pinching yourself.

'Figures,' you think, 'I had to die to have the best day of my life.'

After what felt like an eternity of walking through the most otherworldly funhouse imaginable, you take the second right and lay eyes on the big doors. As you read 'Police Precinct 515' painted in black letters above them, the knots in your stomach multiply.

"This must be it," you sigh, clutching the papers to your chest.

You swallow hard, gather the remains of your courage, and walk inside the station with your head held as high as you can manage.

The officer behind the front desk looks up immediately. "Can I help you, miss?"

"Uh, yes. I'm looking for the Afterlife Crimes Unit?" you answer, approaching the intimidatingly tall bench.

"They send you from Orientation?"

His friendly demeanor catches you off guard.

"I think so," you answer, peering up at him, "To be honest, they haven't told me much since I got here. Just one person after another shoving papers at me."

Despite feeling like you'd already been here for a lifetime, you still weren't used to being among so many dead people. It didn't even seem real yet that you were one of them, although that was certain to come with time. The officer's skin is almost the same shade of blue as his uniform, and his features are unnervingly sunken in, but cadaverous countenance aside, he has a kind look that puts you somewhat at ease.

"Things can be pretty nuts around here, but you'll get used to it," he smiles, standing up straight, "You must be the new secretary for the ACU. Last one caught the Soul Train this mornin'. I feel for Jackson, though. I don't think she had the heart to tell him."

"You mean he doesn't know?" you ask.

The officer winces. "I guess you'll find out. It's just down the hall there, first door on the right."

You refrain from rolling your eyes at more verbal directions, just grateful to have spoken to someone pleasant.

"Thank you," you say, glancing down at your heels, "I'm starting to think I should have died in more comfortable shoes."

The officer chuckles. "Good luck to you, miss."

Your focus shifts from the throbbing in your ankles to shaking in your limbs as your nerves return full force. It didn't seem fair that you could still have anxiety in the afterlife, but it would take more than the cold hands of death to calm you in this moment.

As you reach the door and grab the handle, you hear a muffled voice from the other side.

You tread lightly into the room and carefully close the door behind you, not wanting to intrude. Through the cracked blinds, you see a figure pacing frantically in the office ahead of you.

"This is unreal," the man laments, "Where could she be?"

You freeze in your steps, recognition washing over you. You would know the voice of Frank Hardballer anywhere. There wasn't a single Saturday night in your father's house that you hadn't heard it blaring from the television set, accompanied by all the gunfire and explosions required of a true blue, B-grade cop film. It was really him.

Steeling yourself, you walk towards doorway. The clicking of your heels on the vinyl floor announces your presence, and you utter a prayer not to trip over your blistered feet.

"Janet?" you hear him call out as you step into view.

There he is. Leaning over his desk, concern written all over his face, Wolf Jackson stares back at you.

The grim reaper himself couldn't steal your excitement away.

You open your mouth, and a mess of words comes out. "Um, excuse me, sir? A-are...I'm, uh-"

He waves you away, cutting off your stammering. "I'm sorry, miss. You'll have to come back another time. My secretary's up and disappeared. I gotta start a missing persons report."

"Um, about that, sir" you begin, clinging to your paperwork as he riffles through a pile of folders, "I believe I'm your new secretary."

He stops and looks back at you, visibly stunned. "What happened to Janet?"

"I think the person I'm replacing got on the Soul Train this morning," you hesitate, unsure what that even was. "I'm sorry, that's all I know."

"I didn't know her time was up," he says, bewildered, "She never told me."

His confused expression turns somber as he puts his hands in his pockets and walks over to the nearest window. "She didn't even say goodbye," he continues, sighing heavily, "But that's the way things go in this crazy world of ours. Here one minute, gone the next."

A long pause follows as you stand motionless in the doorway, suddenly feeling like you're intruding on a private moment.

"Here's looking at you, kid," he declares, proceeding to turn swiftly on his heel. Every trace of sadness was gone, replaced with a smile. "Where are my manners? Come in, come in."

Your stomach is teeming with butterflies as you officially enter the room. He eagerly goes to meet you, hand extended.

"Wolf Jackson, Afterlife Crimes Unit," he introduces.

You shake his hand, trying desperately to keep your composure.

"I'm Y/N. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir," you grin.

"The pleasure is all mine, Y/N," he says "It's not every day you get to meet a new face down here. Least of all one as wonderfully intact as yours."

You could sense the compliment in his unusual words. Thankfully, it didn't seem the dead could blush, because your cheeks would surely be betraying you now. Finally standing before him, you're unable to conceal your admiration any longer.

"I can't believe I'm actually getting to meet you, sir. I am such a big fan."

His eyes light up instantly. "You don't say!"

"It's true! My dad and I used to watch your movies all the time. We absolutely loved them," you beam, heart swelling.

Wolf appears as thrilled to hear your words as you are to say them. "Don't that beat all. It's been so long since I've gotten to talk to someone who knows my work," he marvels.

"I think know every line of every Frank Hardballer movie by heart. I've seen them all more times than I can count." Your starstruck smile fades a little as you speak again, "We were devastated when we heard about your accident. That day was one of the only times I ever saw my dad cry."

"Well, I bet he'd be pretty jazzed to see you now," he offers, rushing to clarify, "Not being dead, of course. But you know, working for me...with me. Working with me."

You stifle a laugh as he fumbles his words.

"I know what you meant, sir. You're right. He would be over the moon."

Somehow, this surreal moment was the least strange thing to happen to you so far. One of your biggest idols was just as excited to meet you as you were to meet him. His injuries were not as bad as you'd expected either. The way the media had made it sound all those years ago, you thought for sure he'd been blown to smithereens. Not only was he just as handsome in person, but his presence felt familiar. You could sense your worry fading away, and for the first time since you'd arrived in this unsettling place, you felt safe.

"At any rate, the first day down here is always the hardest," he remarks, "Here, rest for a minute. Put down all that nonsense you're carrying. If you've got questions, I'll tell you what you want to know. You're not gonna find any straight answers in those ridiculous 'onboarding' pamphlets."

He motions to the empty chair by the window nearest his desk, and you're happy to oblige, your arms well-past the point of cramping.

"Thank you, sir." You take the seat and set the papers aside.

Wolf steps over to the front of his desk and leans his weight on it, shaking his head in apparent amusement.

"So formal," he chuckles, "Enough with this 'sir' business. Just call me Wolf."

"Really?" you question, wide-eyed, "I mean, you're still my boss, aren't you?"

"Death makes equals of us all," he states candidly, "But, if you'd prefer, Mr. Jackson works just fine too."

Despite having his permission, it felt unnatural to use his first name. Not yet, anyway. "You're the boss, Mr. Jackson."

He nods in approval. "That'll do." His gaze falls to the floor a moment before he talks again, "Speaking of death...how is it you came to be here, Y/N? If you don't mind me asking, that is. Although I didn't exactly have the luxury of discretion myself, discussing it can be personal for some people, and I respect that."

"I don't mind," you begin, frowning as you recall your own demise, "It all happened so fast, honestly. One minute I was walking home with my best friend from her birthday dinner, and then out of nowhere this big guy with a gun jumps out from behind a truck and starts yelling at us to hand over everything we have. I don't know what I was thinking. I just...reacted."

You pause as the vivid memory flashes through your mind.

"I threw my bag at his face and tried to get the gun away from him. It fell to the ground, and I just remember jumping on his back and screaming at my friend to run. It was stupid, I know. I just didn't want her to get killed. She's like family to me," you explain solemnly, finally looking up and meeting Wolf's intent gaze, "The last thing I remember was the guy throwing me into a wall. I guess I hit it pretty hard, because everything went black. Next thing I know, I'm waking up in the DMV from hell. Nothing but waiting in lines and filing out a thousand forms that I don't understand."

Wolf snickers at your description, and you follow suit before going on.

"I know at least some of them were about job placement, because that's how I got sent here. And there you have it. That's my story. Not exactly Hollywood worthy," you declare with a shrug.

"Are you kidding? That was an incredibly brave thing you did," he insists.

"Thank you," you reply, smiling unconvincingly.

"I mean it. That took guts," he says, shaking his fist in affirmation, "I play the hero. But what you did for your friend? That's what real heroes do."

You could see in his eyes that he meant every word. Even without a pulse, you could swear you felt your heart pounding.

"Well, if I've learned anything from Frank Hardballer, you gotta keep it real."

Wolf claps his hands together and jumps up, grinning ear to ear. "Now that's what I like to hear!"

You can't help but laugh at his enthusiasm.

"What do you say to a little scenery? How about I give you a tour of the station, introduce you to some of the boys around here, and we'll get you all settled," he suggests, already leading the way.

"That sounds great," you answer, standing up to follow, "But while I'm keeping it real, Mr. Jackson, I have to tell you that I don't have any experience being a secretary. Undead or otherwise," you admit.

He stops in the doorway and turns back, giving you a sly look, "And I don't have any experience being a cop."

"That's true," you concede, "but I'm not an accomplished actor like you."

The notion gives him pause for only a moment.

"Well, can you make a cup of coffee?"

You chuckle, "I think I can manage that."

A smirk of satisfaction spreads across his face.

"Honey, you're gonna do just fine."

[illarian-rambling]

Because I'm on my Starbreaker shit, here's a little behind the scenes for where the crew was before getting picked for the voyage! (Aka what afterlife did they land in?)

Faalgun, unsurprisingly, if you're familiar with the Illarian pantheon, landed himself in hell. The surprise probably actually comes in knowing he landed in an Illarian afterlife at all. However, if any religion can spread, it's that one. The Flying City has its own version of Illarianism picked up a few centuries after they left the planet. They exclusively worship the psychopomp deities (Beshha, Loqang, Doshu, and Ibara), as their existing religion had a lot to do with transition states of the soul. Faalgun wasn't super religious, but as a failed explorer who never lived up to his potential and a lost soul, he found himself in Ibara's hell. He stood with his feet trapped in stone, watching the world wheel around him, knowing he could never be a part of it.

Nyda's people do ancestor worship, but only the heroic ancestors, which she is not. Instead of being sent to fight in the eternal battle on the edge of the universe, her name faded into obscurity and she was relegated to an alter spirit. She protected a temple in some nowhere glen of the Sarytas Forest and hated every minute of it, since no one ever worshipped there. Her mind faded after 400 years of this, so she doesn't remember much, but she knows that she'd rather fade into oblivion than go back.

Kaulakri was technically in the hell of Ezjara Moon-stalker, since she failed to spread the knowledge she'd learned, which is Ezjara's whole thing. But also, there are like ten people tops in Ezjara's afterlife and she's not really the hell type anyways, even if she's mandated to have one. Kaulakri just got last pick of the assignments, as the duty of souls pledged to Ezjara is to act as her invisible eyes and ears on Illaros, gathering information for their mistress secretly. Kaulakri didn't mind much, since all of the assignments were interesting to her, and she signed up to serve on the Starbreaker far more out of curiosity than any desire to escape her 'punishment.'

Pash's soul, after he died, went back to the Gloaming Queen who created it. Like all dead fae, he was repurposed back into the beauty of the Next-Door Land. All he remembers is that he was a sunset fog of some sort, which he didn't mind, but when the Gloaming Queen pulled him back out of the land's tapestry, he was happy to do as she asked. Like all fae, he has no sense of any ability to refuse his creator's orders. Either way, being a fog was nice, but a little too boring for his tastes.

Anarac's soul became a part of End after he died, or a part of the dark beyond if you know it by a different name. I won't get into all that, but it was a bad time, suffice to say ;)

Anyways, this has been an official Illarian ramble 👍

[seramilla]

So the idea of Carmilla showing up in heaven as a winner with her kids and Sera being attracted to her. To steal from the recent fic I assume her wings start puffing up and without thinking doing a display. There are three things in my head for how Sera and Emily react to this one both know what that means and Emily is determined to set the two up while Sera is embarrassed. Two Sera knows what it means but Emily doesn't she's probably younger here saves her some embarrassed but also reminds her that Emily will probably be going through the angel equivalent of puberty and she'll have to have to explain all that but that is the most boring option. The third option being neither are sure why Sera's wings are doing it since this is new she hasn't been attracted to someone before. She thinks back trying to remember if she'd ever seen another angels wings do this before and eventually remembers that Lucifer's wings did this a lot when he was around Lillith back in the day they hadn't realized what it was and had teased him about his overly expressive wings. Now she knows what was happening and is happening with her wings.

The moment Sera lays eyes on the new batch of Winners, two things are immediately apparent: One, the tallest of the group, a silver-haired swan of a woman with luscious locks and a pair of legs that go on for days, catches her attention first. Two, Sera begins to experience a visceral, almost electrical detachment from her body as soon as their gazes meet; her head swims, her body feels like she's just been zapped by lightning, and worse, her wings have fluffed up to twice their normal size.

Emily, who's just about to get the first welcome tour of the day started without her, calls over to her sister, and asks if she's going to join them. Emily looks at first confused, and then a little concerned; Sera appears like she's seen one of those disembodied ghosts she'd learned about in lecture hall; the souls that sometimes get trapped in limbo for longer than normal, and then never make it to Heaven or Hell, doomed to wander the in-between for all eternity.

Sera looks like that now -- stuck in place, like she's forgotten how her wings work, trapped in a shell of herself. Emily asks if she's okay. Sera snaps out of it, and assures Emily that yes, she is. She had thought she saw someone she recognized, but she'd been mistaken. They should get this tour started soon, and not let the Winners wait too long. They deserved this happy afterlife, after all.

Throughout the tour, Sera can't help but reflect on the one and only time she'd ever seen such a look on another angel. Partnerships among angels weren't uncommon, but they were usually very surface level. None of them were allowed to have children; they weren't really born, so much as they were made, so there was no point in getting serious with anyone. The only other time that hadn't been the case, had been when one of her own had defected to the other side. When he'd broken all sense of normalcy, every single taboo that had been established in Heaven until that point -- and tried to make a life with a mortal woman, and doomed the entirety of Humanity in the process.

Lucifer -- the Morningstar. He'd often look at Lilith that way; smitten, and transfixed in place. Almost obsessively in love with the human woman, with a draw to her that had seemed so unlike any other force that had ever existed in Heaven, even to this day.

She had felt it....or thought she'd felt something similar, when she'd first laid eyes on this particular Winner from the tour. Something about her...something enticing, something wicked, something twisted...that is very unbecoming of an angel of her standing. It scares the fuck out of her, realizing it's possibly the same thing -- the same thing had ultimately doomed Lucifer to fall.

[lemonzestywrites]

the definition of purple prose please <3

i am SO happy someone asked about this-

essentially eddie is all pent up and exhausted and like the good boyfriend he is, buck enlists the help of their dear friend tommy to help thoroughly get eddie out of his head.

tl;dr eddie gets repeatedly railed by the two hottest men he knows over the course of a day

Eddie moans around Tommy’s fingers as they slip into his mouth. There’s that immediate desire to suck and swallow around him, but the ring gag makes it near impossible to. So instead, Eddie forces himself to relax his throat and lets Tommy use his mouth as he pleases. His fingers slowly rocking back and forth along his tongue.  It’s gentle. Prying. Gauging just how far Eddie can really take him. Eddie can’t help but lean into the touch, so eager to prove just how much he can take. He still has a gag reflex, unlike Buck, but hell, after learning how to deepthroat all seven inches of his boyfriend, Eddie’s gotten way better control of it now. And it seems like Tommy notices that, too. He pumps his fingers nice and slow, teasing him all the way to the third knuckle after Eddie takes the second one with ease. Above him, he hears Tommy suck in an inhale. “Fuck, you weren’t kidding…” Buck looks down at him with sweet, satisfied eyes, huffing a small laugh. “Like I said,” he smiles. “Insatiable.”  Holy shit Eddie’s dying. There’s no way he isn’t. That or he’s already dead, and some very merciful god has demanded this be his eternal afterlife.  In that case, he is nowhere near complaining. He’s not entirely sure what good he did to deserve this but fuck, he’ll still absolutely enamor in the feeling while he’s here. He doesn’t even care if he comes or not- that’s not the point of today. As long as both Buck and Tommy are here, as long as he can touch them or taste them- feel them worshipping and using his body however they please- Eddie can die a very, very happy man.

[indestructibleheart]

Happy Wednesday! Thank you to @kiwiana-writes and @wordsofhoneydew for the tags. ❤️

I have not done as much writing as I would've liked to this week because I work in Marketing and my company's Black Friday plans have been a goddamn shit-show, BUT I'm happy to share a little snippet from the AU I talked about on Sunday:

“Nora,” Alex says slowly. “Odds that I’m dreaming right now?” She chews thoughtfully for a moment. “Ninety percent probability that you’re unconscious somewhere.” Alex feels the sharp end of a corn chip drag all the way down his throat when he swallows. “And the other ten percent?” “You’re already dead.” June lets out an entirely undignified and entirely un-June-like squawk. “Nora!” “What? He asked.” She tilts her head before reaching across the counter to dip a chip into the guacamole. “On the bright side, if he is dead and we’re here, there’s a pretty good likelihood that we’re dead too.” Alex blinks at her. “That’s the bright side?” She pops the chip into her mouth, then licks some roaming guac from her thumb. “I mean, would you rather be here alone?” Nora asks, which earns a thoughtful shrug. “Besides, odds are still real good that you’re just unconscious or in a coma or something.” “You’re definitely just sleeping,” June insists. “There’s no way we wouldn’t know we were dead, first of all, and… If there is an afterlife, there’s also no way we’re just… in the lake house for all of eternity.” Nora points to her with the business end of a chip. “That’s a solid point,” she says, “but… I’ll take that and raise you: If we aren’t dead, and Alex is just lucid dreaming, how are we also lucid dreaming within his dream? Feels kinda more like a group experience here.” “I mean, do dream figments usually know they’re dream figments?” June volleys. “Like, if we’re just in Alex’s dream, technically, Alex is making us up, and we can be as lucid or as useless as he wants — we’re just, like, extensions of his subconscious.” Alex huffs. “Yo — Socrates, Plato — can we stop turning my potential death into a philosophical debate?” “Hey, it’s our potential death, too!” Nora says, at the same time June says, “You’re not dead.”

Tuesday is almost over, oop, so I think most people have already been tagged, but I am still specifically calling out @stereopticons and literally whoever wants to jump in!

[mysticstarlightduck]

Happy WBW!

💀 - How do people in your world think about the dead after their passing? Do they celebrate them, mourn, or honour them in some way, or are they gone and not mentioned?

🏛️ - Does your world have old buildings? Ruins?

Happy WBW!!! Thank you so much for the ask, @pluttskutt! I'll answer this one for my WIPs Enchanted Illusions and Realms of Loss!

💀 - How do people in your world think about the dead after their passing? Do they celebrate them, mourn, or honour them in some way, or are they gone and not mentioned?

IN ENCHANTED ILLUSIONS:

The treatment of the dead depends/varies on which of the many cultures present in Ansburke we're talking about (though the city's cultural landscape is divided/shared mostly between humans and Myths - magical beings - there are many cultures within those groups, and many different kinds of Myths, from faeries to vampires and even banshees).

The most predominant ways people think about/treat the dead in the city of Ansburke are very similar to the way people viewed/treated the dead in the 1800s, and in some aspects, even in the modern day. There are funerals and mourning rites (which, again, vary according to which fictional human or Myth culture the person hails from), as well as some celebrations - during which the deceased's loved ones may or may not invoke a deity/god to protect the spirit of the who died while on their way to the afterlife.

Most people are buried in graveyards or crypts - much like the ones we know today - though some prefer to be cremated and put into urns. In Ansburke, most common funeral choices and rites are similar to those commonly associated with the actual IRL Victorian period, especially regarding the "grieving etiquette" and rules, but there are some very unique alternatives too.

For example, in this world, Selkies and Kelpies return their dead loved ones to the sea - since they themselves are born in the sea, respecting the cycle of life is crucial for their spirits to properly pass on and it is sacred to their kind. Selkies and Kelpies believe that when the deceased person's soul reaches the open sea again that spirit may be reborn in the next 100 or so years.

Vampires - or at least those who are born vampires, not turned - consider death an unfathomable tragedy (since they are supposed to live forever, being killed certainly seems unnatural to them), and often mourn their dead loved ones for centuries or even eternity. They guard their loved one's final resting ground viciously and do not take kindly to uninvited guests trespassing on their crypts, even if by accident. To vampires, the death of one of their kind is a crime that must never be forgiven.

Faeries/Fey Folk hold huge parties/celebrations in memory of the deceased, during the days and even weeks after the funeral. In their ceremonies, they typically light an enchanted kind of lantern that can burn bright for weeks, lighting the sky of the vicinities like multicolored stars.

As in IRL, most people in Ansburke continue honoring their dead and keeping that person's memory alive in special ways that mean something to them.

In the main cast, for example, Cailean Telkerly, a half-selkie, collects and fixes broken pocket watches as a sort of remembrance for his dead older brother, who really loved his job as a clockmaker's apprentice. Another example is Marcus Kallihan, who lights a special candle every year on his deceased parents' wedding anniversary.

IN REALMS OF LOSS -

Now this is where things get tricky to explain, but here we go. In the world of Realms of Loss, most of the continent has been ravaged by a curse that even the Far Reach's wall can't keep at bay. So, a common - and very much warranted - fear amongst the population is that the dead won't quite stay dead or may become easy vessels for the corruption to consume/dominate. Thus, the most common funeral rite is creating the deceased on a funeral pyre (sometimes just a pyre, other times a boat, much like a Viking's funeral), to prevent the curse from adhering to the now-dead body. Details regarding the mourning period, size of the pyre or even duration of the ceremony depends on the person's social class - peasants may have a simple funeral pyre with materials they can acquire from the woods or afford to buy, while royalty has entire ceremonies and celebrations tied to their funeral and usually have tremendously large pyres. After the death of the King or Queen, it is tradition for the entire kingdom to go into a mourning period for around two weeks, and there are laws to ensure this time is honored.

When it comes to it, however, on the kingdoms of Avillore or Sarythea, no matter the person's status, accomplishments, or power, they all become ash in the end - as no one wants to become a soulless husk wandering the Lost Lands for eternity.

Another important aspect - since the Celestial Courts have such a prominent role in the kingdom's daily existence and are worshipped far and wide, someone might request a blessing from a specific Celestial their deceased loved one worshipped in life. And on some special rare occasions, the Celestial might actually give their blessing to the person.

🏛️ - Does your world have old buildings? Ruins?

Both the worlds of Realms of Loss and Enchanted Illusions have plenty of ruins (especially in Realms of Loss, where much of the continent's former glory has been worn down by time and war), or at least buildings that fell into disuse/abandonment. Many of those ruins play some kind of role in the story or at least are explored by the Main Characters in some way - for example, in Enchanted Illusions, Thaddeus found an abandoned fortress in the catacombs of Ansburke and refurbished it to be the headquarters of his operation.

[sneakyvulpine]

So I may or may not have become justtt a little entranced with ur oc seph and I want to know more abt thrm.! If ur cool with talking abt them 💖

AHHH TY FOR ASKING ABT HIM! i love my ocs so dearly i love being asked abt them.. … <33

(@birchtreecat notifying you because you asked for lore too)

!! cw for overdosing, suicide, religious trauma+cults, & child abuse+csa !!

note his backstory is still very much a work in progress. when this project actually gets finished his childhood probably wont get touched on too much. im also still doing research on these topics to write them into his story

seph was born to parents in a cult. he grew up in the cult and was subject to abuse in it. im not going to detail things too too much because. yeah.

he was taught to have a devotion to their god (their god had a lot of eyes, thus the eye imagery w him) and anything going against that was punished. this manifested as a fear of eternal damnation and being incredibly obedient to higher ups. he was physically, sexually, and emotionally abused by other adult cult members as a kid. as a child living in a cult, he was taught not to put his needs first.

at some point, seph gets absolutely fed up. not sure how this would work yet since hes in a cult that makes him fear suicide and damnation. perhaps he meets someone from the outside or sees peoples lives on the outside and sees how happy and functional they are idk. but seph decides to overdose. “hell cannot be much worse than living here”

[in my world, instead of gods there are guardians. its still a work in progress but instead of someone representing the domain, they have control over it. these people are mortals given immortality due to having control over a domain. death controls the domain of death and helps people cross smoothly to the other side. its quite a taxing job so death mainly works to recruit people to help people to the other side or help with other hijinks of life and death.]

upon dying, seph meets death. seph is terrified and he attacks death. (i can imagine this scene in my head, sephs wings grow really big and he can shoot pointy feathers from them) death remarks how seph is really strong and recruits seph to help them with regulating the whole life-death-dying thing. death also helps seph calm down from the mass of drugs in his body. over time, seph grows attached to death and he loves them very much

also hes trans. transition as a metaphor for shedding the burdens of the past fuck yeah. leaving a place where your identity and needs are constantly brushed aside and finally getting to indulge your needs and happiness

currently, seph works for death. power scaling wise seph is pretty strong canonically. he handles situations that needs someone powerful. for example, if theres some criminal reviving a ton of people to do their bidding and disturbing their rest after death, seph might go out and defeat that person. however, someone else handles bringing those souls back to the afterlife

[masterqwertster]

Maybe #17 with Deanna and Orym (maybe with a side of #8 if you're so inclined).

After last night's episode I'm a little obsessed with Deanna's dynamic with Team Issylra. Plus with Aabria drawing parallels between Deanna and Will being the ones to wait for their partners on the other side of the veil to send them back to the living world... I'd love to see these 2 have a heart-to-heart. ❤

8 "I’m so sorry you had to go through that." 17 "It seems like that really rattled you." Yeah, it's kind of a shame they didn't get the chance for some one-on-ones with the guest PCs (I would have loved a shovel talk to FRIDA and some Tired Robit Parent conversations. Fearne and Prism about being non-native to the plane they're currently on. More Deanna with Laudna and/or Ashton on being People Raised from the Dead to a Life in Shambles stuff), but the table was too full and guests can only stick around for so long.

"I'm sorry, but I can't help but ask: you were dead for 200 years? I didn't even know people could be brought back after that long," Orym says, turning to Deanna now seated beside him at the large table.

"Yeah," Deanna answers, shaky smile on her face. "I died. My husband kind of promised to bring me back, and he did after collecting all the resources to do it. Lots and lots of diamonds. A Dawnfather cleric powerful enough to do it. So, you know, it took him a while."

"He must love you very much," Orym comments. He certainly loved Will enough that if it could work, Orym would spend half his life trying to bring him back.

"I guess. I mean, he moved on with his life, got remarried and had a new family, while I was dead. By the time he brought me back, it was obligation more than anything. Barely even stuck around long enough to say, 'Hey! Welcome back!'"

"Oh." That's a tragedy if Orym's ever heard one. To be loved enough to receive such a promise and have it kept, yet it takes so long that you have to wonder why the promise was kept at all when they don't feel the love that initiated that promise. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. I can't imagine bringing someone back just to dump them like that."

"No, no. It wasn't like that. I encouraged him to live his life," Deanna tries to downplay it. But Orym can see the hurt beneath the surface.

"...Wait, you encouraged him?" Orym asks after a moment to process, confused.

"Yeah. See, Dustel, that's my ex-, I guess, husband, became an adventurer to get the money and stuff for my resurrection. So he did the adventurer thing where he dies for a little bit before someone brings him back in a minute or a few days. And I was waiting for him on the other side. Telling him I still loved him, but he still had a life to live. Eternity is a long time, so what's a few centuries, yeah? And it's so peaceful in death." There's something almost wistful in here eyes as she speaks of the afterlife.

And Orym thinks of Will. Of meeting his husband when he was briefly dead. How Will threw him back towards the light of life. The promise from Will to wait for the day Orym stayed dead. ...And the brief flickers of thought he's had about moving on.

"Do you resent that he moved on without you?" Orym asks with morbid curiosity.

"No. I meant it when I told him to live. That means finding joy and love among the pain and grief," Deanna answers, truth in her eyes. "I just don't appreciate being left to struggle alone, hundreds of years after my last memory, when he took the time to bring me back. Like, you want the people you love to find happiness, even if it's not necessarily with you. But also own up to your actions and their consequences! Come on! Couldn't just take me to your new home to get my feet under me. Or send me to our kids! That could work too!"

Orym nods, a little wide-eyed at her vehemence.

Though it's nice to hear that Will probably won't resent him for moving on. After all, he can't bring Will back as he reaches the end of his own life. So as long as their reunion in death has room for anyone Orym might eventually move on with, it should be okay. Probably.

"Sorry. I can get a little passionate," Deanna apologizes, sitting back down from her rant.

"No, you've got every reason to be upset," Orym says. "That's- It's horrible, that he wouldn't make room for you in his life again."

"Thank you. For caring," Deanna says after a moment, a small smile on her face.

"You're welcome."

[uroboros-if]

Hi, I'm the anon who asked this and I'm here to scream about my MC I am so sorry for how long this is gonna be

Okay, so I call my MC Pandora, I have a reason for it Now, the reason why I named my little MC Pandora was because of this line in the synopsis:

"Your investigations into a strange occurrence will lead you to know far more than you ever intended to, unravelling what may be the precursor to the collapse of the reign of gods…"

Which, to me, sounded a lot like the MC is opening Pandora’s box. Then I was like, “Wow, it would be silly If I named my MC Pandora, and throughout the story and her investigations, it’s like she’s slowly unlocking the box… wait-” 

Ok characterization, in the myth “Pandora’s Box,” Pandora has various characterizations, sometimes being seen as clueless and letting her curiosity get the better of her and opening the box. Other times being seen as cunning, knowing exactly what is in the box yet opening it anyways. I wanted both of these for my baby, a happy middle with a leaning towards innocent curiosity, knowing what's in the box and the consequences of looking into it but letting the curiosity win and then realizing just how grave the consequences actually are partway through, yet instead of giving up and closing the “box” she keeps going because of all that pent up and hidden feelings she’s had about the way she’s been treated her whole life. Because oftentimes, when we do something that has consequences that we know of, we aren’t exactly aware of how bad those consequences are for us and others around us due to our innocence and lack of experience along with the feelings he had at the moment, especially if they are negative ones. In the case of the game, the “Box” would be the investigation and the downfall of the deities; this is what I strive for in how I play as her in later chapters btw.

In chapter one though she’s still in that innocence, she has negative feelings about the other gods, but it’s not to the point where if she was given the option to bring down the gods or leave things the way they were, she would pick bring down the gods, no she would turn her head and choose to keep the things the way they were. Most of her negative feelings are directed towards Salvatore, she really doesn't want to dislike them, but they are everything she isn't, and that pisses her off in a way she can't describe, and it pisses her off when other older gods call them "childhood friends" when in reality they know nothing of each other and in childhood she was just tolerating their presence because their mom is quite literally the Queen of the gods and she'd rather not get whatever punishment is given when you upset her child or whatever. With Luciel, on the other hand, it seems to be a completely different story. She is extremely fond of them, being the god of the only thing that ever be considered something that can last for eternity, death. (unless I missed something and there is a reincarnation system that you plan to add later or something) And also the fact that they gave her a purpose and their generally calming presence (and ofc they're pretty, which helps a great deal with likability) She was always a little curious about Ciocana, always feeling a little... drawn to them in a weird way, maybe it's the similarity of them being outcasts, but she wants to get closer to them, especially after that dance they had. Oh yes, that dance. She had always been fond of dancing; however, she'd never had that much fun doing it before, and the timing was even greater when she remembers bumping into that other god and that nasty numbness she felt afterward. She wouldn't mind dancing with them again. She has always adored humans in a weird way; they basically stood against her whole being, with how short their lifespans were, yet... they made her feel needed in their afterlife, and she has always been happy to help with whatever issue they ask of and the fact that they went to her about it too (even though she's the only option) it makes her feel all warm inside, and I imagine they're the ones who introduced her to dancing in the first place. I don't really want to write much about her opinions on Alessi because they haven't met yet💀

Pandora typically dresses in a mix of all the human-era fashion because her job is so tightly associated with humans it's impossible for them to not influence her in some way. She usually wears Greek and regency-era-inspired clothing, light and airy yet beautiful.

Thank you for reading about my silly I love them, and they can and probably will change quite a bit throughout the chapters, and I genuinely cannot wait to see where the story goes, but yeah, all of this is just based off of the first chapter 💀

My reply in the read more 💕💕

Pandora is such an amazing name and works so well symbolically/narrative-wise!! 😭 Especially in a setting that starts out once peaceful and then thrown into disarray when the "Box" is then opened, unleashing unto the world everything bad... but also Hope! You don't know much about Alessi yet, but I feel this also defines their character arc as well! Perhaps you'll see 💕

Oh, and I love how thoughtful you are with how you feel about the ROs! I was definitely trying to emphasize how completely different people view Salvatore versus the MC, which makes for super interesting character foils to one another! Salvatore, the golden child, and MC, "everything they are not." Even with that description, they are defined in relation to Salvatore, rather than evaluated independently. To add salt to wound, people assume you are friends...

Haha, I don't think reincarnation is part of the plan--resurrection or rebirth is against the order of the world! I am glad Pandora has someone she likes, in spite of her negative feelings towards other deities. Luciel is just as fond of her. (... And thinks Pandora is quite lovely, too!)

But 👀 they're also a little curious about Ciocana? Maybe loners just drift to each other!

So interesting to have an MC who is inclined towards mortals and a little against deities, although she would still choose to keep things as they are! I imagined that's actually how I'd feel in MC's situation 😭 begrudging against anyone who mistreats, happy to be of service, and yet not so extreme as to want to participate in overthrowing the gods... for now! 👀

Ahh, and I love the bit about the fashion! 🫶 Those two styles are so lovely, you should send some images of what you think she'd wear!!

But thank you so much for going into such detail and being so so thoughtful about your MC! I am astounded by the level of thought you put into Pandora, and in just one chapter!! I am starting to think I have the most amazing readers 😭😭 everyone has such deep thoughts about the story and I want to meet all those expectations!!

You inspired me so much with your ask to give more depth to the choices in the future! So again, thank you so so much for telling me about Pandora, I adore her!!!! 🥺🥺✨✨ Please let me know more of your thoughts if you ever come up with more, or if things change, or... anything!! 💕 I would be so so excited to know!

[tinyvoicejill]

Carson’s not disappointed. 

How could she be disappointed that the man she’d spent her life with was her soulmate? That’s wonderful news, surely, and she can tell Charlie is thrilled about it, so she tries her best to smile and nod along like her heart isn’t shriveling up in her chest. 

“Can you believe it?” Charlie says once they’ve finished their afterlife tour and finally settled into their new eternal home. “We get to spend eternity together!”

Carson hums in agreement and tries to ignore the ache in her chest. Tries to forget that moments before they’d died together in that car accident she’d been about to ask Charlie for a divorce. It doesn’t work, of course, and she lays awake every night thinking about it. For this to be a place of eternal joy, Carson sure is feeling stressed out. “How about we go to dinner tonight downtown?” Charlie asks like he does every day. 

He’s worried about her, she can tell, but it was a lot easier to fake happiness on Earth when she’d felt like there was a way out. There’s no way out of The Good Place. This is her forever. Everything feels a bit hopeless, knowing that. Her afterlife doesn’t feel any brighter, in fact, until she meets Greta. 

They make eye contact at the Fruits and Boots market downtime as they both reach for the same pair of leather cowboy boots at the same moment. Carson is so overwhelmed just looking into her eyes that she drops it and sprints away, not stopping until she’s safely hidden behind the banana display. She has no idea why she reacted like that and she spends the next minute berating herself for her odd reaction, only to look up in her self-flagellation to find the woman standing before her watching her with a curious look. The woman holds out the boots. “I’ve got a pair like these at home,” she says. “You can take them.” They’re inseparable after that.

Being friends with Greta becomes the highlight of Carson’s afterlife. She’s happy, and Charlie’s happy, too, seeing her light up so much. She spends every moment she can with Greta. At her house, in her garden, exploring their small town together - she enjoys almost every moment she spends with her. Every moment except for when Vernon is there.

Vernon, Greta’s soulmate. Her tall, handsome soulmate, who worked as a veterinarian in real life and now spends his days volunteering at the zoo of imaginary creatures. They make a good pairing, Vernon and Greta. They’re both so beautiful, and seeing them together makes sense to her, even if it makes her stomach ache. They probably would have clicked in their living lives had they met, though they didn’t know each other before like Carson and Charlie did. 

“It’s so special,” Vernon is saying over another dinner they share, “that you guys were soulmates in and after life.”

Carson wishes the seat would swallow her up. She can feel Greta’s eyes on her. “Yeah,” Charlie says, completely unaware of the way she’s melting into the ground. “You know, most people don’t get to spend their forever with the person they’ve always loved. We’re so lucky.”

Carson doesn’t say much else for the rest of dinner, too lost in her own thoughts. Greta doesn’t say anything either until they’re alone in the kitchen placing their dishes in the Dish Disintegrator (there’s no dish washing in the good place, after all). She tries to ignore the way Greta keeps hovering over her shoulder. Obviously Greta won’t allow that. “You okay chickadee?” Greta asks, and Carson tries to smile. “Oh yeah! It’s just… I don’t know. I’m fine.” Greta nudges her. “It’s okay to not be fine, too.” Carson laughs too loudly, with too much force. “What are you talking about? We’re in the good place. Everything is fine here, that’s literally the motto.” Greta’s studying her face like she’s trying to read something. Carson feels her resolve crumble fast. Vulnerability strikes her, makes her foolish.

“Do you ever feel like they got it wrong?” she asks. “Who?”

Carson gestures towards the living room where the men are having a charming conversation about the fishing they plan to do this weekend at the lake. Greta stares out at them, then looks back to Carson before looking at the men again. Carson can tell she understands.

“Do you ever think they got this wrong? Got us wrong?”

Greta doesn’t say anything after that, so neither does Carson.

The next morning, Carson finds a letter under her door from Greta inviting her over to help make table decor. She’s throwing a neighborhood party soon and needs to make sure everything is perfect.

Carson’s excitement at being with Greta slips away at the serious way she’s appraising her, at the way she pulls her into her home and locks the door, shuts the blinds, pushes her to the couch. Carson’s practically trembling by the time Greta sits beside her.

“I’m so sorry about last night,” Carson says, desperate fear clawing at her. “I just had too much giggle juice, you know? I just wasn’t thinking.”

Greta keeps looking at her that way that scares her even as she holds her arms open and asks,

“Can I have a hug?”

Relief washes over Carson as she pulls Greta in. She can feel how tight Greta is holding her, can feel her breath against her ear as Greta whispers,

“I think you’re right. They got us wrong.”

Carson jolts and Greta holds her tighter.

“Vernon is not my soulmate, and I don’t think Charlie is yours, either. Something’s wrong.”

“How do you know?” Carson whispers back, and she ignores the chills that breakout across her body at the feel of Greta chuckling against her ear.

“Because I’m a forking lesbian,” she whispers bitterly. “There’s something wrong with this place, and I’m gonna figure it out. Are you with me?”

Overloaded with sensations and thoughts, Carson takes so long to speak that Greta starts pulling away from the hug, but Carson pulls her more firmly into her, going so far as to press a hand to the back of Greta’s head to hold her tight against her.

“I’m with you,” she whispers back with a slight tremble in her voice. If she didn’t know better, she’d think she felt a quick brush of lips just beneath her ear.