#verse: light carries on endlessly

[reyofluke-ocs]

Revenge of the Fifth -> The Beast is You, and You Are the Beast

Imperial Skywalker Family AU - The family that rules together, stays together.

tagging: @endless-oc-creations@stanshollaand, @foxesandmagic , @hiddenqveendom , @arrthurpendragon ,@cas-verse, @eddiemunscns , @oneirataxia-girl, @forchrissy if anyone wants to be added/removed or I accidentally forgot, please let me know! psd: oblivion-crackships

[reyofluke-ocs]

I love this so much!!! 😭 And it's their lightsaber colors too! This is reminding me how badly I need to start writing SOMETHING for this verse. BUT ALSO THE 'I AM ONE WITH THE FORCE' FOR JANA KNOWING WHAT HAPPENS TO HER UGH I AM EMOTIONAL.

ocappreciation + 2022 oc gift exchange ☃

↳ to: @reyofluke-ocs​ → from: @come-along-pond

[shaisuki]

｡‧˚ʚ°ɞ˚‧｡ ─── MY LOVE MINE ALL MINE.

when toji entered his shared home with you — he can hear the crying of his son. it hasn't stop since he left to get the medicine prescribed by his son's pediatrician. fever was it.

soft footsteps echoing in the floor. toji removing his coat and went to your bedroom. there he sees you. standing in front of the window. moonlight shining through it giving you a halo effect on you. he would be awestruck at you but his son's wailing had been relentless.

his baby with you, flushed skin with tears rolling endlessly in his chubby cheeks. a fever relief pad for babies pasted in his forehead to ease the heat of his fever. he watched as you cooed, rub the back of your baby but still it was useless.

toji sighs. it was rough. it wasn't all shit and giggles when parenting and seeing his baby isn't laughing or doing the same thing all over again plus you. exhaustion visible in your face and tiredness all over your body tending to his little boy. you didn't even notice him and before toji could take a step he hears you hum before you began to sing a familiar tune you always sing when you were pregnant with megumi.

“moon, a hole of light~” you began to sing the first verse and megumi's wailing turn to sniffles upon hearing your voice. the tears rolling in his cheeks turning into drops like dew in leaves after rain. the song hasn't been sung since your pregnancy and megumi stares at you wide eyed. the green in his irises similar to his father turning into one of calmer one.

you raised megumi to distract him while you continue to sing. “cause my love is mine, all mine~” his fingers making grabby motions to you and toji is entranced how you manage to calm your sick baby. “i love mine, mine, mine~” your voice soft. singing the song like a lullaby intended to heal the sick and mend broken hearts and the scarred man gazing at his son and especially to his wife can't help but to feel warm and giddy inside.

“nothing in the world belongs to me~” you continue to sing. your baby eyes wide while he stares at his mother. “but my love mine, all mine, all mine~” placing your son's body in your chest and his head into your shoulder. his breathing softening with hiccups. your palm rubbing his back to soothe the ache and megumi thankfully calmed down. sighing a small smile graces in your lips before bestowing a chaste kiss to his head. hair spiky and you softly laugh imagining how toji would look with his hair spiked up.

you began to sing the second verse and then you turned around to see toji. “my baby, here on earth~” he can see the words forming in your lips added by your angelic voice and he didn't know if he could love you better when you look at him to sing the words intended for him. “showed me what my heart was worth~....” the volume of your voice decreasing not breaking eye contact with your husband and then you greeted him. “toji.”

“megumi finally calmed down but the fever is still there. hopefully it'll be gone by morning.” you say. rocking back and forth to further your baby's comfort. “let me take it from here.” extending his arms and you slowly placed your baby in his. toji isn't good at it. stabbing a man's head is easier than carrying his blood and flesh but toji tries. be a good father and husband in which his father wasn't. it's different now. he thinks to himself. he wasn't alone. he have you and toji intended to make it this way until.... forever.

you rest your head in his shoulder while your hands softly brush megumi's hair. checking his temperature with worry etched in your face. “our child is strong.” toji comforts you. another feat he doesn't know he's capable of and the word our. you and him with your pride and joy resting in his chest. “he is.” smiling softly at your baby.

toji peered at you. his wife stronger than anything else. caring and loving with the voice that can touch one's very soul. calms the storms in its wake and toji thinks back on what good deed he must had done to deserve you. to deserve this life but nothing else matters with you and his life and this little brat.

and toji knows that he doesn't have love in him but now, he have and he intends to have it. to give it to you until there's nothing left in him cause his love didn't exist without you in his life.

[majestativa]

Your blog is a treasure. Can you recommend your all-time favorite poets or collections?

Some poetry tends to get a bad wrap, but the quotes you share are typically soul-stirring. What separates the heights from the so-so to you? Authenticity? Imagery?

Thank you endlessly, love.

When I imagine a life without poetry, I suffocate. I choose to live this way, surrounding myself with the finest written words so as to momentarily forget this wastelandish state of existence or deeply ponder on the nature of human sensibility.

I only select what electrifies my soul. I need meaning to “function,” so I dig for it in places that are often unknown & less exposed.

Here are 20 distinguished ladies & gentlemen that helped me grow as a human being:

Juana de Ibarbourou: Umbral. One of my favorite muses along with Dora Maar & Kiki de Montparnasse. Her cursed sensuality, her aura, her platinum bones, her sorcerous wounds; everything about her is regal.

Florbela Espanca: My beloved. A masterpiece of a woman.

Nazik Al-Malaika: I stumbled upon her verses when I was a child. I fell in love with her name. Nazik means ‘delicate’ whereas Al Malaika refers to ‘Angels.’ We crossed paths several years later, and by inhaling her mourning, I was reborn full of light.

Edith Södergran: Who can paint the face of tragedy and starvation with blooming roses and glittering blood but a dreamy Cinderella who carries Medusa’s heart?

Forough Farrokhzad: Reading her is like being caressed by God. Her audacity to live is contagious.

Joyce Mansour: Half a sorceress, half a banshee. Behind her volcanic writings hides an eternally wounded child.

Hilda Hilszt: She x-rays people’s souls with the dexterity of a madwoman.

Ingeborg Bachmann: An angel with rough femininity, caught in the storm of Celan’s roses.

Gioconda Belli: When eroticism meets refinement. A soft Lilith; a fierce Eve.

Anna Akhmatova: “Gabriel or Mephistopheles? The Demon himself with Tamara’s smile.” Writing is indeed prophetic. She’s at once Tamara, Gabriel & Mephistopheles.

~

Hafez of Shiraz: The man who introduced me to mysticism. One of my personal archangels of poetry.

Rainer Maria Rilke: When genius meets simplicity. Eros incarnate.

Vladimir Mayakovsky: He’s the twin-soul of my soul. Discovering him in 2012 was the best thing that happened to me that year.

Arseny Tarkovsky: We both burn at the feast and still don’t know why we broke ourselves.

Henri Barbusse: He made me weep when I least expected it.

Maurice Rollinat: My eternally haunted dark Romantic. (If Poe & Baudelaire had a wild child.)

Rubén Dario: A majestic regal encyclopedic entity. He's surreal. ♥

Vicente Aleixandre: His book “Longing for the Light” was a revelation to me.

Edmond Jabès: An equally tormented complex soul. A magician of words.

Yone Noguchi: “Oh Lord, is it the reflection of my heart on fire? Is it, my Lord, the rain carrying tragedy from the Heavens?” What else can I say? ♥

Honorable mentions: Simin Behbahani, Liliana Ursu, Joumana Haddad, Georgina Herrera, Valzhyna Mort, Olga Broumas, Francesca Lia Block, Guadalupe Amor, Charles Baudelaire, Fernando Pessoa, Badr Shakir al-Sayyab, Mihai Eminescu, Miguel Hernandez, Sohrab Sepehri, Novalis, Augusto dos Anjos, Friedrich Hölderlin, César Vallejo, Sully Prudhomme & the entire Surrealist gang.

Concerning my poetry books’ recommendations, I’d like to know your themes of interest. I’ll pick them accordingly.

Much love. ♥

[hand-written-dreams]

CRIMSON SHADE

Chapter 07

Behind Closed Doors

You tell me your secrets

You keep your life between your lips.

- ( The song of the chapter is "Eyes Don't Lie" by Isabel LaRosa)

The door to her walk-in closet creaks open, revealing the warm, smiling face of Buaji. She hands her the matching glass bangles she loves, along with a jewellery set to go with the saree she’s wearing. Buaji is the most constant presence in her otherwise volatile life. Her presence as familiar as the air in the room.

She lets her eyes run through the room she has known all her life. Her room on the second floor is more than just space, it is a fortress, one that holds her in both comfort and captivity. A large bedroom, a private bath, and a walk-in closet, everything is hers, as it always has been.

Growing up, nothing was denied to her. A mere mention, and whatever she desired would arrive at her doorstep, from the latest gadgets to racks of designer dresses. Clothes would line up like soldiers awaiting her approval. For a while, she equated it to love, believing her father’s way of caring was through giving. Thought his love was measured in possessions, wrapped in indulgence.

But she uncovered the truth early.

Slowly, Painfully.

She isn’t placed in this luxurious space to be cherished. No, she is stationed here, high above, to be observed, like a rare bird in a golden cage. Her every wish is fulfilled not out of affection but as a tether to keep her grounded in his world, so she’d never feel the need to fly beyond it.

The gifts, so beautifully wrapped, are chains in disguise.

She stops wishing for more.

She begins to carve out her own choices as much as the invisible chains around her wrists allow. Quietly, carefully.

Each decision is a whisper of defiance in a world built to silence her.

As she stands before the mirror, draped in the saree Mr. Jha gifted her, a sinking realization washes over her.

Choice is a luxury.

She never truly possesses.

No matter how much she yearns for it.

The fabric clings to her.

Beautiful yet suffocating.

Delicate yet unyielding.

Either this or termination of her life.

She always thinks ending her life can never be any answer to anything.

She still strongly believes that.

There's hope as long as she is alive.

She breathes deeply.

She needs to come out of her melodramatic bullshit.

It's time to wear her well-crafted mask.

The soft hum of conversation swirls around her, punctuated by the clinking of cutlery against porcelain, while the city below looks both close enough to touch and miles away.

Saffron, perched atop a tall skyscraper, stands as one of the most exclusive and luxurious restaurants in the heart of Delhi. It offers a breathtaking view of the city, its glittering lights stretching endlessly beneath the night sky.

The walls are dressed in rich shades of deep navy and gold, accented by deep velvet couches in midnight blues and soft greys and rich mahogany tables with golden accents. Low-hanging chandeliers give off a gentle, amber glow, casting soft intimate shadows that make you feel both at ease and on edge, like you are a part of something important just by being there.

This is where power quietly dines.

This is where every glance feels like it carries more weight than the words exchanged.

This is where whispered secrets linger in the air like smoke, while the hum of the city below is nothing more than a distant murmur.

She casts a glance at Mr.Jha, who is sitting across from her, animatedly discussing politics with his colleagues. His passion is palpable, shining in his eyes.

She sighed.

She hates being here.

She hates the small talk.

She hates the looks the men are giving

She hates the way the city pulses with energy while she feels frozen.

She pushes her food around on the plate without really eating, offering a fake smile at the woman sitting beside her. She is well-versed in the art of mindless conversation. She can entertain anyone from world leaders to a discarded piece of tissue paper.

Her skin is humming,

It's burning,

And tingling.

She lets her eyes glance over the restaurant, taking in the well-dressed waiters and the animated crowd, to find out a possible reason.

Maybe it's the air, or the clothes, or the food.

And then.

She sits up straight.

Ice needles prick her flesh.

Akash Singh Rathore sits a few tables down with two women, one is boredly typing on her phone, while the other is giggling, hanging on his every word.

She looks away quickly, her brow knitting together. What are the probabilities of having dinner at Saffron the same night as an Eagle? But then again, it wouldn't be unusual. It's a renowned restaurant and Delhi is their turf, after all.

Her blood quickens, the image of caramel-brown eyes flooding her mind.

He can't be here.

She discreetly glances at the Eagle's table, a wave of relief washing over her when she notices that no brown-eyed man is present nearby.

Not for miles.

He is not here.

The tension in her body begins to dissipate slowly. Quietly, she excuses herself from the table, giving a nod to her companions as she rises to go to the ladies' room.

The quiet hum of the restaurant is muffled behind the closed door of the ladies' room, leaving her alone with her thoughts and her reflection. She washes her hands with the cold water running from the faucet. It helps, if only slightly.

"Get it together," she whispers to herself.

On her way back, she bumps into an old friend from college. “Friend” feels like the wrong term. They never spoke a word to each other back then. Yet here, the girl is chatting animatedly as if they’re long-lost buddies. Perhaps it’s the effect of graduating, everyone feeling nostalgic.

Her skin is humming,

It's burning

And tingling.

Not again.

And then.

The air catches its breath.

Thunder growls in the distance, shaking the quiet night, as bolts of lightning tear through the dark clouds. The glass of the building vibrates faintly with each rumble.

He is here.

The murmur grows as everyone marvels at the spectacle unfolding in the night sky.

While she is trapped in a pair of caramel-brown orbs.

They are trained directly on her, as he emerges from the opposite direction, clad in a charcoal black suit, walking toward the table junior Rathor occupies. A small part of her can’t help but admire his lethal, powerful stride. Yet the larger part instinctively raises her defences, on high alert.

The tension in the air coils like a drawn bow.

He slides next to junior Rathore and leans back, draping his arm over the back, as if he owns this place, as if he commands every breath in this room. He probably does.

And

His eyes.

His eyes are never not on her.

She doesn't look away.

She can't look away.

She is drawn like a magnet.

Her heart pounds so loudly she is sure everyone can hear it.

And yet.

She refuses to give in.

She will not give in.

She can stare too. As hard as he can, maybe even more.

She will stare forever.

She won't even blink if it means to win this war.

Without breaking eye contact, she bids the girl she has been talking to, goodbye and starts walking back toward her table, aware of the way his eyes hold her and hers hold his with each step, with every sway of her saree.

She is aflame from head to toe.

Her blood sings in her ears, drowning the sounds of laughter and clinking of wine glasses to nothing but a distant static. She is floating underwater.

His stare is raindrops, sliding down her body.

She feels his hands around her wrists in his stare. She feels his hand sliding up her neck in his stare. She feels his body pressed tightly against her in his stare.

A silent threat wrapped in a promise.

She sits down. It is foolish of her to think she can stare forever. She answers a meaningless question asked by one of the wives, the entire time feeling the weight of caramel-brown eyes. She is not going to look back.

And yet, and yet, and yet.

Her eyes find his.

A bead of sweat trickles down the curve of her spine. Her hair ends stand on high alert, sending a shiver through her skin, something he notices from across the room.

His eyes flare up.

Her mind screams,

'stop touching me with your eyes.'

A dangerously arrogant voice whispers,

'Make me'

The caramel-brown ones look unexpectedly amused as if he hears the conversation she is having in her head. A slight lift of his lips forms a crooked smirk, marring his finely chiselled face.

His evil calculated smirk.

Oh, how she hates this man.

She hates him so freaking much.

For making her feel so powerless.

For making her sweat.

In this thoroughly air-conditioned room

Only with his eyes

Sitting across the room.

'Fuck you.' her hate whispers.

'You wish,' his voice in her head whispers back like he did a few days back.

He gives her an air toast as he lifts his glass to his lips.

The glass touches his lips.

His throat bobbed.

And, she is an avid watcher.

She averts her gaze, forcing down the knot forming rapidly in her acutely dry mouth.

Mr. Hazard is bad for her health.

And her body.

And her brain.

And her heart.

And, she hates him.

"Khushi?"

She blinks, pulled out of her thoughts as Mr.Jha calls out her name. He stands with the rest of his colleagues. She nods a distant farewell to the faces she knows she won’t remember tomorrow. But it’s that gaze,

Intense and unrelenting.

That keeps her rooted in place.

"I'm heading toward the bar. It's going to rain soon. You should go home," Mr. Jha states in a low voice. "My bodyguard will take you home."

With that, he leads them toward the bar, his bodyguards trailing after him, except for one who lingers, waiting to follow her.

That gaze is still on her.

Piercing and unwavering.

The air between them has thinned out.

She exhales slowly.

Hazel eyes meet caramel-brown ones.

Eyes cut through the dim light.

Eyes pin her in place.

Unsettling and sharp.

Without another glance, she picks up her purse and turns, heading toward the elevator, eager to escape, eager to breathe in the cool night air.

The thunder strikes again.

The elevator doors ding as they open, revealing a middle-aged man with a very homely appearance. He smiles politely at her. She smiles back as he steps aside to let her in.

The doors are about to close.

A hand shoots out.

The doors ding open.

A man in a charcoal-black suit stands before the doors.

The guard beside her springs into action and steps out, “You’ll need to wait for the next one, Sir.” he says firmly and then panics pointing a gun at him. She bets the guard never expects him to be in the vicinity of them.

He arches an eyebrow at the guard, not even glancing at the gun pointed at him. With an almost casual demeanour, he grips the guard’s wrist suddenly and in a move that nearly drops her jaw, he twists the wrist, applying pressure and bending it backwards until the guard falls to his knees with a sharp cry. The gun in the guard's grip, is now pointed back reversely, yeah... at the guard.

The tables have turned.

His eyes never sway from hers.

She clutches the fabric of her saree, while willing for her heartbeat to slow down. Her nail digs into her palm, hard enough to draw blood.

The doors ding open, stopped by his hand.

She waits raptly to see what he will do next. The soft light of the corridor casts a dark shadow over half of his face, while the light from the elevator illuminates the other half of it, making him look lethally dangerous, predatory.

He takes the gun from the guard and pulls it apart, piece by piece. With a flick of his wrist, he delivers a sharp backhand to the guard's face, sending him crumpling to the floor.

Unconscious.

The doors ding open, caught on the guard's feet this time.

Show-off, she mutters in her mind.

Then it dawns on her, how easy it must have been for him to kill her at any moment.

She gulps.

This is a knowledge she doesn't relish having, especially when she is completely and utterly armless and defenceless.

Kicking the guard's foot, that is stuck in the elevator door, he steps inside. Pulling out his phone from his slack pocket, he unfolds it to make it a tablet and swiftly types something on the screen.

The doors ding closed.

The elevator starts moving.

He leans on the wall, crossing his ankles, as if he will be in this elevator for a long time, except for a few seconds.

"Mr. Roy, is it?" his voice rough, as he asks the man beside her. He snaps his phone shut, making the poor man jump.

"...ummm..yyeess, sir."

He slides his phone back into his pocket, alongside his hands. "Your floor has arrived." The doors open two floors below. The corridor is empty.

".... but sir, I need to go to the basement."

He stares down at the poor soul. Silently.

The man gulps, "....yes, sir, my floor has arrived, " and he steps out of the elevator.

The doors ding closed.

He crosses his arms over his chest.

Eyes back on her.

Him and Her.

Trapped in a box.

She mimics him, crossing her arms, while refusing to break the silence or the eye contact.

Every interaction with him feels like a risky download.

Thrilling yet potentially hazardous.

She has no idea what he wants. Following her as he has, knocking out the bodyguard as he has, it sure as fuck wasn't just to stare at her.

The door of the elevator is not opening,  not even in the basement. The elevator started to ascend.

Fuck.

"What all one has to go through just to meet you, Miss Gupta," he states quietly.

All of a sudden, fury blooms in her chest at the sound of his voice. The anger magnifies at his words but she forces herself to calm down.

"So gracious of Mr.Raizada. Why the formality, especially given the kind of liberties you take?" Her tone is cool, chilling.

"I haven’t taken any liberties," he replies, arching an eyebrow, "yet."

"I should have known you would corner me in an elevator. So many walls for you to execute your special hobby," she says casually.

His lips curve up further.

One heartbeat.

Two heartbeat.

Three heartbeat.

"Have you decided yet?"

"What?'

"About my offer."

"Really?" exasperated, she rolls her eyes, while he stares, silent, waiting.

"It's not possible."

"You haven't heard the full details yet."

"I am not interested."

"Ahh..I see..so what are you interested in? Raising snake babies, perhaps?"

Condescending, Egoistic, Asshole.

She clicks her teeth together to stop herself from lashing out at him.

"Are you sure, I can't offer you a deal you can't resist?" He shrugs, tucking his hands back in his pocket.

"Huh...Really? how?" Her tone's suspicious, doubtful, challenging.

"Ever heard of Paragon Tech company? I bought it recently. You can work there as an IT expert. You will have access to whatever you need.......And your father won't know. The company isn't registered in my name." He studies her, the eyes searching for something. "You work for me. I'll provide you evidence equivalent to what you lost, maybe even more."

Her eyes shower fires at him for making such a dangerous yet irresistible offer. He has her all figured out, doesn't he? For an unknown reason that angers her even more. She isn't that easy to figure out. Damn it.

She wants to lash out and tell him he is absolutely wrong. His offer doesn't impress her at all. Instead, she bites her lower lip to keep mum.

The caramel-brown orbs glint with something, she doesn't dare to name, "I suggest you to reflect on the offer."

Is that a threat?

"Or what?" She snaps in response. His fire's burning her as well. Her eyes spark like moulted fire, barely contained. The elevator touches the basement again and starts its ascend. "Why is the elevator not stopping?"

"You always ask the wrong question. The elevator won't open until we are done here."

"I can’t help but wonder,” she says, faking a smile, her body simmering with anger. “Was all of this supposed to scare me?”

He straightens and steps up toward her. She glues herself to the opposite wall as he stands in front of her. Even in her heels, she barely reaches his chin. Her head tilts back to keep their eyes locked.

Brown eyes are holding her hazels captive, "You'd be quite naive if it didn't. "

"I don't think the eagles will hurt her." her father's voice floats in his mind.

She smirks, “I’m a lot of things, Mr. Raizada, but naive isn’t one of them. That’s precisely why I know you won't hurt me.”

The caramel-brown eyes ignite, the embers and oranges in his brown catching flame. His eyes are blazing lava, simmering beneath the surface of calm. He tilts his head to the side while he rests one of his hand on the wall beside her head.

And she steps closer, unsure where her boldness to provoke him is coming from. She doesn't care. She just needs to.

Craning her neck, she leans in until her chin nearly brushes his chest. She says softly, “Did you really believe, that whole 'I despise you' act Or this elevator fiasco would scare me? Not at all. It didn’t scare me one bit. It just pissed me off.”

He doesn't say a word or move a muscle. He merely gazes at her with those eyes and her heart races.

Yet, she continues, "There are four walls right there. Why don’t you just get it over with?" her gaze unwavering. "Pin me down. Invade my territory. Or if you despise me that much like you say you do, hurt me. Go ahead. What's stopping you?"

Her whole body shakes.

Her hazel burns into his brown.

Bodies nearly touching.

Her heart threatens to jump out of her rib cage. She controls her breathing to keep her chest from heaving.

Slowly, after what feels like an eternity, he lifts his other hand to slide over the back of her neck. His massive hand swallows her. His thumb glides along her jaw, the roughness of his skin contrasting with her softness.

Rough & uneven like a cracked leather.

Like he has callouses on his palm.

Like there are scars underneath.

He holds her head in place as their eyes remain locked. A shiver courses through her, involuntary and unwelcomed, his lips barely curving in a sardonic smirk.

The stubble on his jaw appears more pronounced at this distance, guarding his lips. And his eyes. They are abysses, ready to swallow her whole.

He presses his thumb against her frantic pulse. It has gone out of control. Her breath hitches.

“Your pulse is running too quick," His voice a low, dangerous whisper, brushing against her skin. The faint scent of his cologne, mingling with his own scent and something raw, invades the air around them.

Every detail imbeds in her mind.

The striking orange and green flecks in his eyes, the way his long lashes frame his piercing stare.

Everything.

His mouth's mere inches from hers, "I warned you. Don't fool yourself into thinking that you know, what I will do or won't do." he whispers.

Softly, lethally.

His thumb sinks a little deeper.

“And I warned you,” she whispers back, her voice low, yet feral, “not to underestimate me.”

A cold chuckle escapes him.

"When the time comes, Miss Gupta," His Eyes are alive, a dangerous glint sparking within. ".. mark my words....I will ruin you."

A chilling promise.

Under his thumb, her pulse runs wild with the heavens that grumble outside.

And inside.

His eyes are thunders

And she is the lightning.

Author's note: Hey, lovely readers! I hope this chapter made your day a little brighter. Until next time.

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@arshifiesta @featheredclover @phuljari @jalebi-weds-bluetooth @chutkiandchotte @titaliya @shiyaravi @herelivesahobbit @msbhagirathi @arshisrabbaves @arshiradio

[chaikachi]

Hey radical spicy hot take but Trapdoor is 100% a ruby song. And. Trapdoor is 100% a oscar song. They are a mirror to each other. They are put on the same pedestal. They bear the same weight. They occupy the same space, simultaneously, impossibly. Do you see my vision?

anono... how does it feel to have such a big brain. all songs are rg songs if you try hard enough. 😤

Yes, Trapdoor is first and foremost a Ruby song, but her and Oscar are 100% mirrors living such similar character arcs. I could talk about all those parallels in a post all their own (one day), but for now a really good example is actually comparing Trapdoor to Sky is Falling (thank you @greenteaandtattoos for pointing it out first).

I'm gonna ramble a bit

Trapdoor is a song about the weight Ruby has been carrying. How she has tried so hard and how it's seemingly done more harm than good. It talks about how she doesn't feel seen or heard or needed, let alone wanted. How she's losing herself. How she feels like a trapdoor, part of the floorboards being walked on and unnoticeable. How one more step is all it might take for her to break and fall further into the depths below. And simultaneously like a trap that will lead all her friends to ruin.

And Sky is Falling (in my opinion) is a song about the weight Oscar has been carrying. How he's struggling with moving forward in light of everything he's been through and everything they've lost. The song itself is cited as referencing the original Henny Penny (aka Chicken Little) fairytale since it's a story that uses the song's title as a cry wolf for fearing the end of the world. But that feels a bit like a red herring to me. Or at least not like the whole picture.

The original myth of Atlas and the weight of the world isn't actually about the god holding the world on his shoulders. It's about him holding up the sky. So whether you read it as Oscar struggling with what to do given Atlas is falling... or struggling with how to move after Ruby falls, (Ruby, who was holding Atlas on her shoulders. So when she fell, so to did the city in the sky) is up to interpretation.

Some examples of how the songs mirror each other a bit tho:

Trapdoor

Though I try to keep the hope alive

Sky is Falling

Lost all my hopes and dreams

Trapdoor

Watch it all Unfold As I Cascade below Frozen In the darkest moment I can't bear the weight I hold

Sky is Falling

Starin' at the casket, hopin' to move past it Knowin' things will never be the same, and that's it Cold soaked as I'm standin' in rain Feelin' nothin' but pain until I see you again

Both of them struggling to hold onto hope. Both of them struggling with the cold of grief. The water imagery in "cascading" and "rain". The feeling of drowning. How to keep moving in the face of it all.

Also just on the topic of them being mirrors, it's interesting how many of these songs can so easily link back together. Trust Love's "open up your eyes" to Sky is Falling's "cover up your eyes". Then Sky is Falling's direct parallel, Touch the Sky. In my opinion, this song talks about both of them. The first verse is very Oscar "Little Prince" Pine, but especially this part:

I'm soarin' like I never have before Flying self-assured and free And I somehow feel I finally feel like me I looked in the mirror and I gotta say It's been a long, long time since I felt this way Right now, I'm just a bit surprised 'Cause I feel just fine and I might just touch the sky

And then directly towards Ruby's ascension in the second verse:

Open doors and so much hope in front of me Full of confidence, every challenge crushed My heart's electric, racing endlessly Feeling like the stars have all aligned Illuminate the darkness that was blinding me Now I'm positive that it's my time to shineI will explode, you'll see me rise You may not even recognize I just can't wait for this reveal

But also... very strong argument can be made that both verses apply to both of them. Finally feeling like themselves, the people they've wanted to be, the ones they're meant to be. These kids and their identity issues... But especially cause, um, Ruby isn't the only one that explodes.

So to summarize, Oscar looked in the mirror - not the mirror that showed Oz's reflection, but the mirror he sees in Ruby - and he became more like himself. Influenced by the hope she inspires.

And Ruby, like Alice, fell through the looking glass. But in the Ever After the only Oscar that was there to stare back at her wasn't a reflection of hope, it was was one of fear.

So she had no choice but to fall further and looked inward. Until she found the hope that was always inside her. The hope Oscar always knew was there because he sees her.

And the fact that Ruby's hope, her motivation, has always been "the people she hasn't lost yet". And how Oscar is the only living companion Neo 'kills' to hurt her. I'm getting so off track here but...

The Parallels. It's CINEMA.

They make me UNWELL.

Edit: I ended up just talking a bit about how they're mirrors through song and not so much Trapdoor from an Oscar lens. It is so strongly a Ruby song to me that it's hard to apply to him, even if it does fit him in some ways as well. All alone in crowded rooms and all that.

[notebooknonbinary]

hey!! i was looking at your merthur fic recs, and i was wondering if you have any stranger things recs? i like reading longer fics in canonverse a lot, but i dont really have too many preferences hehe, anything you really enjoy, as a fellow mike-appreciator, would be amazing

Oh gosh☺️ making me feel like a fic rec authority. Making my day. Okay! Longer canon-verse with maybe an emphasis on the good-good son Mike Wheeler. (Fair warning, almost all the Mike fics I read are byler centric lol) Many of these fic authors have written multiple wonderful ST fics🥰

One of the first ST fics I ever bookmarked was A Hope to Cling To by midnighteverlark which is slightly canon divergent for the Shed Scene in season two. It’s a fic I return to often because it’s just a very lovely fic. It switches between Mike and Will POV and has five chapters.

@wiseatom just wrote a fic called just gotta call on me, which is a 5+1 fic about phone calls between Mike and Will. It is Very wonderful and takes place from post S2 to post series.

If you feel like crying @andiwriteordie wrote a lovely birthdaygate series called how light carries on endlessly where everyone forgets Will. Very lovely read but Ow it’s got me crying in the club. Post S4 and still ongoing.

paper rings by mogiah is a sweet fic that has a few angst moments. The Party plays the game of ���where do you see yourself in ten years?’ while briefly trapped in the Upside Down. Mainly byler-centric

I don’t miss the feeling (of being alone) by boygirl is Lucas-centric & Partycule bc I’m a sucker for the main four as a couple and this one is lovely written. It’s so sweet and honestly just aaaa. Post canon and Max is alive ☺️ (ik this isn’t Really Mike centric but since one of the people Lucas likes in this is Mike I feel it qualifies. Also Lucas is 💕)

I’ll be your first, I’ll be your last by agustplz is a very wonderful 5+1 about Mike calling in dedications on the radio for Will.

@buck-yyyy wrote Is Hell Cold? It’s a season 5 speculation fic. It’s lovely, like poetry and I was lucky enough to be among the first to read it☺️ And they’ve got a lotta other wonderful fics to read too!!

I am, ofc, often vocal about my love for @perexcri ‘s writing. I recommend starting with To Hell and Back which is Very Romcom and fun and aaaa. Takes place during S5, Will and Mike get stuck in the Upside Down

reaching for starlight by chainangel is a Mike character study about gender. I Adore this fic So Very much (nonbinary Mike nonbinary Mike nonbinary Mike nonbinary Mi—)

Be the Boy by katbatsupreme, Mike overhears Will talking to Jonathan about his crush. I am a big ol’ sucker for Mike Jealous of Himself fics and this one is Very good🥰

I know the end by bookinit is a largely canon-compliant ST retelling with an emphasis on byler. And tbh Until byler is officially Together As Boyfriends On Screen, no one can tell me these fics aren’t canon. They’re on season 3 right now (Ow my Heart) and updating pretty regularly.

a game of truths by RomeoWrites, the title is pretty self explanatory☺️ very sweet. Goes from Pre-series to post:) Also! This writer wrote the boyfriend problem, where Ted thinks Mike and Will have been dating since pre-S1 very cute and funny

Us against the world by wasabi8000, immediately post-S4, Mike finally puts the pieces together about Will’s feelings. Sweet and a tiny bit angsty with a little bit of miscommunication. A good fic!

I hate accidents (except when we went from friends to this). by blackdeathmamba. A lovely 5+1 fic about Mike kissing Will but Will not realizing why. Miscommunication and lotta kisses:)

I’m sure you’ve already read a dream always the same by @sevensided (sorry to tag u), bc it is The Mike Wheeler centric fic, but just in case you haven’t, it’s an extremely well written, Wonderful fic (as are its’ sequels). Set post-S3.

eyecatcher by smoosnoom, Jealous Mike post-S4 with no angst, just Mike being pouty over girls getting crushes on Will. It’s very funny and cute!

mom I’m gay, wait you are too? By dragons_like_s’mores is sweet and silly and a fun read, and introduced me to a ship that I like but hadn’t thought of before lol. An offhand comment by Mike causes Karen’s lesbian awakening, while in the background Mike simps for Will and maybe learns how to do chores.

This is not an exhaustive list of all my fav fics but if I put All of them down we’d be here literally All Day lol

Also!!

Some of my mutuals/blogs I follow are in the process of fics which I will ofc reblog when they post them🥰🥰 (also friends please please feel free to add to this list, I’m Always in the mood to read ST fic)

[csial]

SONG CHALLENGE.

Share at least 5 songs that you associate with or remind you of your muse! tagged by @apocryphis forever ago

1. I am the Undertow - Ginny Di general vibes.

"You must be scared, and you're right to fear Your mind is racing, seeking escape Holding your breath - what's left should be dear Don't bother fighting; now it's too late..."

2. Your Forgiveness - The Rasmus regarding Morax.

"There's a time for anger 'Cause I still bleed from your last kiss The war is over; and all I need from you is this The hardest thing for you to give Your forgiveness..."

3. Survivor Guilt - Rise Against regarding The Archon War / fighting Morax.

"I fought your fight, bought your lie And in return I lost my life What purpose does this serve? What purpose did I serve?"

4. Fair - The Amazing Devil regarding Beisht.

"It's what my heart just yearns to say in ways that can't be said It's what my rotting bones will sing when the rest of me is dead It's what's engraved upon my heart in letters deeply worn Today, I somehow understand the reason I was born"

5. You're Only Second Rate - Johnathan Young this is entirely the fault of this.

"But if you're not convinced that I'm invincible, Put me to the test! I'd love to lay this rivalry to rest! Go ahead and zap me with the big surprise Snap me in a trap, cut me down to size"

BONUS: Saturn - Sleeping at Last This one's specific to the qianfan verse, regarding zhongli.

"You taught me the courage of stars before you left How light carries on endlessly, even after death With shortness of breath You explained the infinite And how rare and beautiful it is to even exist"

[writteninverses]

He compartido 183 publicaciones este 2022

¡Son 176 más que en 2021!

60 publicaciones originales (33 %)

123 reblogueos (67 %)

Estos son los blogs que más he reblogueado:

@mayescapade

@dykefever

@drmthieves

@steelycunt

@gaewaren

He etiquetado 113 publicaciones en 2022

Solo el 38 % de mis publicaciones no incluye ninguna etiqueta

#r/s: 30 publicaciones

#wolfstar: 29 publicaciones

#marauders: 25 publicaciones

#jegulus: 14 publicaciones

#poetry: 11 publicaciones

#my words: 11 publicaciones

#poem: 11 publicaciones

#words: 9 publicaciones

#fanfic: 9 publicaciones

#free verse: 8 publicaciones

Longest Tag: 86 characters

#idk i feel like this could be great to let my mind and imagination out for a bit again

Mis publicaciones más populares este 2022:

5

sneak peek of the second chapter of “light carries on endlessly”!!!!! <3333

i love writing barty and regulus🫶i could write 100k words of them just bickering non-stop

@mistressregulus

20 notas. Fecha de publicación: 7 de octubre de 2022

4

21 notas. Fecha de publicación: 6 de noviembre de 2022

3

oh, helena by mcr? did you mean first war wolfstar?

Descúbrela

25 notas. Fecha de publicación: 27 de mayo de 2022

2

jude and z are back to being gay full time on the dash @mayescapade @mayzarbewithyou

46 notas. Fecha de publicación: 3 de diciembre de 2022

Mi publicación más popular de 2022

the first chapter of @mistressregulus and i’s fic has been posted on ao3!!! hope you all love it🥰

light carries on endlessly click here to go to ao3 directly!!!

172 notas. Fecha de publicación: 19 de septiembre de 2022

Descubre tu resumen del 2022 en Tumblr →

[lavernes-world]

A Symphony of Shadows and Dreams 💫

In the heart of the night, under the silver moon's light,

Whispers of the wind, carrying stories untold,

Through the shadows, mysteries unfold,

Where dreams and reality blur, taking flight.

In the realm of imagination, where thoughts roam free,

A canvas of emotions, painted with words so vivid,

A tale of love, loss, and everything livid,

A journey through time, as boundless as the sea.

With every verse, a new world comes alive,

Echoes of laughter, tears that have dried,

In the poetry of life, we endlessly dive,

Seeking truth, in lies we often confide.

So here's to the dreamers, the poets at heart,

Crafting beauty from pain, turning life into art,

In each line, a piece of their soul,

A story waiting, to be told and retold.

•| Cely Ami

[unrely]

DIVINITY TSERENDORJ.

“ a life not lived for others is not a life. "

                                       ― mother teresa

SUMMARY (TLDR).

divinity is shy at first meeting but quickly becomes a very devoted, generous, and funny friend to those he likes. he is perceptive and intelligent, and he’s likely to read what others are not saying. he prefers peaceful solutions but is not afraid to take action if need be. he can be somewhat defensive or even aggressive, particularly if he is protecting someone else, especially loved ones.

BASICS.

name: divinity* nikolai tserendorj   ( * he prefers to go by vin. ) aliases/nicknames: vin, dima age: 42 birthday: october 2 gender: cis male pronouns: he/him sexuality: pansexual, panromantic ethnicity: asian*    ( * he isn’t even human in some verses 🤷 )  religion: agnostic

APPEARANCE.

divinity is 5’11”(180 cm.) and approximately 165 lbs (~75 kg). he is strong in the arms and shoulders with very little body fat. his diet and exercise give him a very chiseled and muscular appearance. he is considerably strong, able to deadlift around 350 lbs ( ~160 kg).

vin keeps his hair long. it’s naturally black and has gained strands of gray with age, somewhat wavy, and very soft. (It smells like strawberries :) ). he occasionally ties it into a bun or a ponytail, usually when he’s working. he knows how to braid it if he desires to do so, though he usually doesn’t have the time or urge to.

he has very dark brown/black eyes, and he keeps either a beard or stubble, usually depending on the season, neatly trimmed either way. he has dozens of scars. the most notable are a claw mark (*) across his right cheek, a large burn wound on the left side of his stomach, and, in verse where it applies, dozens of claw marks across his back.

* this scar changes to fit the verse. it is a large claw mark where applicable, but some verses it just doesn’t make sense, so it becomes a slash instead.

- TIEFLING VERSE -

in many fantasy verses, i play vin as a tiefling. in these verses, he has cloven hooves, a forked tail & tongue, sharp teeth, and horns much like that of a ram. his skin and hair are pale white and his hands are colored as though they have been dipped in ink and washed away many times, ending in pointed black claws. he does blood magic, and is covered in dozens of tiny cuts from it, primarily on his arms and tail. his eyes are are a warm, light color, like sunlight, with no pupil or iris.

he wears armor that has been patched together from different pieces to be as efficient as possible, carries a greatsword on his back, and three holy symbols at his belt.

PERSONALITY.

alignment: true neutral mbti: infj-t enneagram: 6w5 sp/so 692 zodiac: libra sun, leo moon, virgo rising temperament: phlegmatic stereotype: intellectual, explorer, caregiver archetype: the everyman

―

       upon first meeting, vin may seem SHY or QUIET, unless you happen to meet him in a stressful situation, wherein he is very BRAVE, TACTICAL, and A GOOD LEADER. when the social anxiety doesn’t consume him, he is actually quite FRIENDLY and SOCIAL. he can be very GENEROUS and HUMOROUS as well. he is fun to hang around. If you become close, you’ll have a friend who is DEVOTED for life.

       growing up the way he did has given him AGGRESSIVE tendencies. he is ACTION-ORIENTED, preferring to get things done rather than to talk about them endlessly - this does not mean he is not THOUGHTFUL. he considers the situation on his own and makes his own decisions. despite his do-it-now attitude, he is very INTELLECTUALLY ORIENTED. he has a KEEN and CLEVER mind and a tendency towards OBSERVATION.

       he is also a rather NON-CONFRONTATIONAL individual, preferring to be COOPERATIVE, though this tendency disappears when his friends are in danger - he is intensely PROTECTIVE. he values both sides of a conversation, is FAIR-MINDED and JUST, always looking to right the wrongs of the world.

VERSES.

* i love alternate verses and i can create them in three minutes, if you’re interested in writing in a new verse, please feel free to shoot me a message!

modern verse: vin prefers careers that focus on his observational skills and preferably involve some kind of service. detective, scientist, doctor. i switch it around to fit the thread. 

pirate verse: grew up poor, ended up working as a bounty hunter, eventually switches over to working as a pirate. our flag means death based - he starts out on ed’s crew. i like to write him as being hired by izzy because he’s resourceful and reliable. i’ll usually write him as being in charge of the queen anne while ed and izzy are off elsewhere.

fantasy verse: i write him as a tiefling in verse where it applies (dnd verses and such) but i’ll shift this verse to fit whatever world i’m writing in. he’s primarily a fighter, though he dabbles in magic. monster hunter who spend 80% of his time rehabilitating said monsters. beholden to the god of the dead - cursed with blood magic. good omens verse: vin’s mother was a powerful prophet. vin himself is less so (though he does have psychic power, as much as he doesn’t like it). he spends a good deal of his time trying to help people involved in his mother’s prophecies now that she’s passed away, getting involved in all sorts of trouble for it. 

sci-fi verse: star trek based. vin is a lieutenant commander in the science division, human, with some very minor psychic ability.

android verse: detroit: become human based. divinity’s studies veer off into learning about androids, and when they become living beings, he takes his history working law to america, transferring to detroit in order to use his skills to help the androids there, at the epicenter of it all.

marvel verse: vin is his marvel verse is no superhero, but he does have a power - psychometry, or the ability to see the history of future of an object or person through touch. this tends towards seeing the history of said person or object, but he can see the future sometimes, and occasionally, receives prophetic dreams without having touched anything at all. he keeps this power hidden - he’s not a hero nor a villain, but can be a useful ally to have for research purposes.

OTHER.

fears: the death of loved ones. getting sick (hospitals, in modern verse). abandonment. conditions: ptsd. adhd. autism. social anxiety. likes: physical affection. travel. learning. literature. sparring dislikes: inactivity. acting tough/toxic masculinity. mindless violence. languages: english, mongolian, russian. 

[reyofluke-ocs]

OC HALLOWEEN CHALLENGE 23 - Day 2: Lights, Camera, Action! -> Jacen Skywalker (Star Wars)

template psd

tagging:@endless-oc-creations @stanshollaand, @foxesandmagic, @hiddenqveendom, @arrthurpendragon, @cas-verse, @eddiemunscns, @far-shores, if anyone wants to be added/removed or I accidentally forgot, please let me know!

[godzexperiment]

*finger guns in oh this is tragic thoughts regarding nix* ~this one is not light in the slightest/pretty fucked up and heavy~

(mostly his like non watered down/main background but sure trickles in other verses etc)

-okay but the weight? of how he has to listen, even if he is actively tuning it out... it'll still tuck away into his brain and him being able to understand his maker's disjointed rants/rambles just means absorbing it all endlessly even if there is no intent for him to soak it up.

-which also the way it affects him for the rest of forever (here is your purpose, you never asked for and will affect you hearby for the rest of forever) remembering cruel words, kind words those last sounds of dying breathes stick forever or the laughter of somebody who can't stand him *the voice of his maker, spoken words of an long gone being*

-imagine your sole purpose being to listen to the entity who created all of creation; constantly critique it and grumble about your siblings yet it makes you so quick to defend even at the cost of your own being+possible erasure out of existence

-the way he was created to be pretty unfeeling more or less; only to be so emotional? especially when his maker has weaponized/tested emotional things on him? 'what would it be like to give an angel intense heartbreak' -nix in agony clawing at the floor just kind of like we didn't need to test this theory this way- so very caring in contrast to his maker's growing apathy

-watch me punish the humans, my angels for mild annoyances and nix just like :( watch me get my ripped out heart handed to me for suggesting maybe we don't go damaging creation in That Way for such minor nothing little things

-getting sent down to handle the "antichrist" mainly as another morbid lesson/an 'well i cant destroy you or i'd be down an punching bag+obligated listener so i'll break your soul another way' and nix just so rebellious hearted but being given the space to fail or succeed (maybe he manages- but then comes the death of some nature and god just yanking him back+erasing it all only leaving pieces of the suffering behind)

-knowing the darker aspects/side, the Wrath and far less of the nature his siblings associate with their maker yet not resenting any of them for it. as he sure knows they've got other issues like having to carry out their orders. go through horrors sometimes entirely avoidable. so it's not like anybody is thriving; just so much hurt and dragging out an abandonment inevitable.

-the way he is like 'yeah no what really haunts me is his apathy; that I might have soaked that and all the other horrors right up' because he sees so much beauty in everything (is it evil to see so much beauty in mortals sustaining the earth when they're gone or not blink at death sometimes etc)

-seeing so much beauty, so much love only for so much horror+damage to exist inside him and still be possible (new pains in actual heartbreak, in possible rejection by siblings or them fighting- in not being mind wiped after loving somebody only to lose their inevitable mortal soul) how wounds on Earth, hurt different than wounds in Heaven etc

-and if gets tossed the 'here creation is yours to look after' the labor of such an weight on him? the way it very much would feel like an punishment some parting 'okay so you care so much- meddle as you wish' *doesnt send him to earth either just thoughtlessly or to put lemon juice in the cut*

how of course nix would willingly do so/promise to regardless (even though he is very much not suited for the task+believes strongly in letting people make their own dumb choices etc so it's all so odd and draining is so many ways)

-perpetually exhausted, forever haunted and scarred in every meaning of the word seeming to collect even more babey boy who could desperately use love+kindness and being cared about would 100% sob hysterically if anybody were to go 'its not all on you' in especially the direct way

[wunderlass]

I posted 181 times in 2022

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

January reading round-up

I'm going to try to do this on a monthly basis to keep me on track. I'm trying to read more books this year instead of endlessly scrolling through social media.

In January I read:

Vampire Academy (first in the series, as part of a group re-read)

Perfect Past Tenses in Italian (nf)

Spinning Silver

The Copper Promise

The Girl at Rosewood Hall

The Ancient Guide to Modern Life (nf)

The Rough Guide to Green Living (nf)

Customer Persuasion (nf)

Still Waters

Go Make a Difference (nf)

3 notes - Posted February 7, 2022

#4

Hi! Haven't actually posted about Maneskin before beyond reblogging a few gif sets, but I'm having thoughts and want to write them down.

Mostly this post boils down to me being whelmed by Supermodel. Not over, not under, just whelmed. It's catchy enough.

Firstly - Damiano's vocals do seem like a step forward, and I wonder if this was him pushing himself or new producers doing it. A+ there, really showcases what he can do.

Beyond that - well...

Did it really take eight people to write this song?

It feels like a regression for the band, back to some of the poppier roots from IBDV, which is fine, except it's weaker than those songs. This was was a really basic track that seemed to end before it got going. Verse, chorus, little guitar break, repeat - oh wait we're done? It's over? It wouldn't have hurt to add a proper middle eight that REALLY explodes and then come back to the chorus. You can even do a radio edit to cut that out if you're fishing for radio play.

Also, nearly the first minute is just Damiano's voice and the guitar with the barest hint of the rhythm section. So that's nearly half the song feeling like an introduction. It feels unbalanced for something so short.

Also also, where is Vic's bass? One of the key features of the band's sound is how prominent the bass is, often carrying the melody as much as the guitar does. It's completely MIA here, buried in the mix.

Finally - I hope the song pops more live. Otherwise it's going to seem especially pallid next to Zitti e Buoni when they perform it tomorrow.

P.S. I'm going to Circo Massimo alone in July so if anybody wants to adopt an English woman in her mid 30s for the day...I can pay in gelato

6 notes - Posted May 13, 2022

#3

Coda

I hate how it ended for Echo. Here's how I fixed it without them having to spend any more time on the final scene. Thanks, as always, to @maxortecho for the beta work.

The desert air is cold and sharp on Liz’s cheeks, adding to the sting of tears clinging to her skin. She hates how they cloud her vision as she takes in what will be her last sight of Max for nobody knows how long. It could be weeks. Months. Forever.

Dallas is already on the other side of the portal, surrounded by unearthly structures in gleaming crystal. Waiting patiently for Max to join him, for their work to begin.

Max is framed by the stone archway of the portal, dark hair lit by the glow of the strange light filtering through from Oasis. She ought to be fascinated by what’s on the other side of it, but she can’t bear to tear her attention away from Max. He’s stoic, but she sees the sorrow in his eyes. It feels like he can’t look away from her either.

“Guess we have to wait a little bit longer for that road trip,” she whispers, the words hoarse and stricken around the knot in her throat.

He nods, his mouth tight in that way she knows signals that he’s trying to keep his emotions inside. He’s trying to be strong for her sake. “When I get back. We’ll go to the ocean then,” he promises.

The console hums behind them, a warning that its fuel will soon run out. And yet Liz can’t bear to let go of the moment. Of Max. Not yet.

“Do you think there are oceans on Oasis?” she asks, as if her words will slow time and keep Max here with her. “If you’ll get to see those.”

“I guess I’ll find out,” he whispers, and there’s no enthusiasm to it. She understands why. He’s not going to Oasis to explore, to discover what the planet has to offer, the way she would. He can’t do that without her by his side, because he has to come back to her as soon as he can. If Liz was there, they could take their time. They could stand on the shoreline and marvel at pink or yellow or silver water.

Her breath hitches. She’s momentarily stunned by her own cluelessness. Why hadn’t she thought of this before? 

“I could come with you.” The words are out before she has chance to fully think them through. “I could find out with you.”

It’s as if a light has switched on behind his eyes, and his own response is breathless. “Are you sure?”

It doesn’t take a moment to think about it. Beyond that simple idea, the simple resolution of still being able to be with Max, of not being separated by galaxies and light years – there’s all the discovery to be made. A new planet, uncharted by humans. Unvisited and unseen. With him.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” she says, then adds on, as if Max might need persuading. “I could help. I wouldn’t just be tagging along.”

But Max needs no persuading, his face splitting in a broad smile. “This could be our road trip,” he says, reaching out for her.

She reaches back without thinking, clasping hands. A moment ago they’d been saying their goodbyes, but now both their gazes turn to the portal. It doesn’t need any further discussion. Nothing has ever felt more right to her, except perhaps the moment she’d kissed Max for the first time.

“Ready?” she asks him anyway, taking her first step towards the portal. His mouth lifts in a giddy grin, and she wipes away the remnant of her tears with her free hand.

“Ready,” he agrees. There’s a beat, a silent rhythm between them, then they take that step together, crossing the threshold into another world.

See this is how you make a super quick tweak to the ending and make it happy, if you aren't a complete hack.

39 notes - Posted September 7, 2022

#2

Why is the concept of sick leave so difficult for this fandom to understand?

If you aren't capable of working, then your employer has to deal with that and figure out how to cope without you until you're well enough to return to work.

That is what they did with s4 of RNM for Tyler Blackburn. He has said as much. They were actually a good employer in giving him the time off he needed to get well.

What do people want? Him to be forced to film and exacerbate his injuries? I know sick leave on the whole is treated weirdly in the US but even actors get to take it.

The show had to write around Tyler's unexpected absence, at short notice. He has said as much. Why the fuck are you all treating it like it's some sort of mystery or conspiracy that his character is absent when he wasn't available to film?

47 notes - Posted August 16, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

The CW owes an apology to Jeanine Mason, because apparently giving her the lead role in Roswell New Mexico was just catfishing us all so they could make yet another show focus on white men.

61 notes - Posted September 6, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[killedinstead]

          “You could buy a lady a drink.” There’s a soft smile, green hues bright but there’s more to her than just a woman with a pretty face, a reason why she was sitting here alone. Though she would always accept the company. “Unless there was something or someone else you had in mind?”

@eclipsecursed​ II sc

[xlacuna]

’ a lone guard isn’t much of a patrol. ’ ( sara ! )

dragon age 2 starters || accepting || @thexhoodedxvigilante

“ Think about where we are. ” Sara couches down on the ledge they’re currently resting on, “ There’s only one physical guard. But they’ve got to have cameras, sensors, plates, anything to alert them. Here- ” Sara pulls one of the arrows out of Oliver’s quiver and throws it at the building, immediately setting off some kind of pressure sensor. The guard runs over to check it out, and is quickly joined by two other guards. “ See? There’s more. Likely inside. ”