#why can this life and this love not be a miracle simply for existing as it does. in infinite probabilities we found each other | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heavenblvd · 2 months

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𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒.

pairings — fem!reader and rafe cameron.

summary — after rafe takes your life, he tries to move on, and simply pretends he’s the one who didn’t do so. eventually, hauntings and truths will lay themselves out to remind rafe just how sickening he is.

warning tags — adult language. details of gruesome m*rder & m*rder itself. mentions of DV relationship, (brief) child ab*se & awful parents. talks of religion and god. reader’s pov from heaven (?? just stick w the program). rafe actually going more insane than usual. overall dark content.

author’s note — this is based on and inspired by ethel cain’s song ‘strangers’ and while this song has multiple interpretations to go by, i’m taking mine by the main and common one (just without the c*nnibalism!). this also gets super dark and depressing so if you cannot bear any of it, please click off! this also isn’t revised at all so my apologies for grammar mistakes.

likes, shares & reblogs are very much appreciated ⋆୨୧ ₊ﾟ

you had tears in your eyes, body shaking to point you thought you’d convulse. you tried to be obedient by keeping in rafe’s secret of what he had done on that tarmac. he beat you to make sure you kept your mouth shut for good.

he said, “i’ll kill you if you say one word,” and it took enough fear to believe him, but you didn’t think that day would come.

murder is an evil thing, and everyone can attest to it. rafe murdered sheriff peterkin as if she was nothing, as if she was a problem in the way. bad enough, he let john b. routledge — one of your best friends — take the fall for it.

you continued to keep your mouth shut, but after rafe tried to invade the police, ward killing himself, you didn’t see a reason to keep quiet. ward was the only reason why rafe could stay out of prison, and now that he wasn’t around, you could speak.

your father preached every sunday to live by righteousness and good, to never let evil win.

rafe was that evil. he was the devil himself.

the devil that you danced with, let make love to you, kiss you, but also beat you until stars twinkled in your vision, and your breath kept getting caught in your throat.

your mother would be horrified to know that, your father too. but it was their fault in a way that you accepted this cruelty as love; your father, especially to blame.

if love is not meant to be hit at you, does it even exist? your father showed you that when he’d slap or punch you for falling out of line, but go to church the next day, and preach about being a good servant to god.

you wanted all evil out of your life. it was suffocating, it was drowning you.

rafe had to be eliminated first.

“you killed peterkin, and i’m tired of knowing it,” you said, picking up your car keys. “we are done, and i won’t even show up to your trial when you go down for it.”

rafe just stared at you appalled and puzzled, sitting on the edge of his bed. you were close to being far out enough to your car until strong, violent hand seized you.

you screamed and kicked, not being new to this routine, only knowing that he was going to harm you.

you could never predict that his violence would lead him to murdering you.

“let me go, rafe!” you screamed, being pulled inside, your pleas and cries echoing in the empty home.

expecting to be physically berated, you were being led downwards.

to the wine cellar basement.

and for once in a while, you prayed to god, and hoped he would finally listen to you this time. that he would save his child, and perform a miracle.

but a miracle never came as rafe manhandled you, pinning you down on the cement ground of the basement.

“shut the fuck up! stop crying!” he yelled, a solid punch coming to your cheek, and you yelped, an easy gush of blood rushing out of your mouth. “you’re a fuckin’ backstabber. after everything i’ve done for you, gonna treat me like that?”

you cried, shaking your head. “r—rafe, please! i’ll be good, i’ll stop!”

“don’t trust you, little one. can’t let you ruin everything,” rafe said, reaching for something out of his back pocket.

the more you fought back, the more angry he got; the more you fueled the fire that rested in his hands and body.

before you could let out another plead, a sharp pain was made into your abdomen.

rafe stabbed you — and he wasn’t planning on stopping there.

god wasn’t there. you would show up to his gates in this condition, and ask him why he let it happen. if god is real, why did he bear witness instead of saving you?

rafe doesn’t recall killing you.

he remembers grabbing, and dragging you down into wine cellar basement, but couldn’t be able to tell anyone what happened after that. all he knows your blood was quite literally on his hand, knife shaking in his grip.

your babydoll white dress was now stained with violence and scarlet red blood.

the sight should’ve made him sick, but it didn’t. he just stared at you, breathing heavy, and it didn’t strike him until a while later that he had killed you.

rafe cameron had killed the love of his life.

he only panicked when it came to how to dispose your body, take off any evidence that could trace back to him. he was more than willing to dump your body in the woods, let any gators eat at you for supper.

he tossed your body only hours later in the depths of the woods, and it didn’t take long until you were reported missing.

of course, he was questioned first. it was easy for him to play the concerned boyfriend, crying because he also hadn’t heard from you, saying he had been texting and calling you for hours.

your parents sobbed on the news and asking anyone to come forward with any information, that they’ll give up however much money for their child to come home.

rafe just stared numbly at the television screen, a cup of scotch in his hand.

your best friends, the pogues, sobbed for days, and even started a search party for you. rafe made sure to dig you levels down in those woods when the ground was wet enough to dig up, and cover you up.

sarah cameron had a feeling her brother had something to do with your ‘disappearance’ but it was only just a gut intuition, she couldn’t prove it. she always questioned why you got with her brother, always emphasizing how horrible and violent he was, but you would tell her, “you don’t know him like i do; you don’t know how much he loves me, and takes care of me.”

kiara knew how bad rafe was — for god sake, she momentarily went to the academy around the same time he was a senior. she knew he wasn’t destined to be a boyfriend, let alone even in a fucking relationship.

the boys of the group were beyond furious, the three wanting to round up and take ahold of rafe, beat some information out of him. but they knew you wouldn’t want that, and that rafe would easily get the police to arrest them.

however, months passed, and you slowly became a memory to not only the town, but to rafe himself. he went on with his days like nothing occurred, that he didn’t violently take the life of his girlfriend.

you weren’t on his mind anymore, and he didn’t have to worry about you anymore.

or so he thought.

karma and revenge go hand in hand together; they mingle and burst out, they make sure they arrive at the doorstep of the people who deserve it.

rafe always thought getting rid of you would avoid his downfall, but the murder of you was just the beginning of it all.

he slept peacefully like he had done for a while now, with him about to drown into a deep sleep. he rested with his hands laid atop of his stomach, comfortable and at solitude, a female whisper woke him up.

he peeked around, but saw no one. he assumed he was just sleep deprived and imagining things, his eyes closing again for sleep.

“do you feel sick yet?” the voice that sounded like yours came through, more clearer and visible. he shot up, and turned on his bedside lamp.

nothing. no one. not you.

why would he have to feel sick? you were gone, you were no longer a problem.

rafe shook it off, and was able to go back to sleep.

you were angry in the afterlife. you stared at rafe from heaven, trembling with rage and regret. a man you once loved, had acted as if you never existed. you adored him, and he disposed you like garbage.

you just wanted to be his, wanted him to tell you that you were his only; that he loved you as much as you did to him, that he would change and better himself for you.

that the violence would dissipate, and his rough hands would be nurtured with love and softness.

but no. that never came, and never would.

you were taunted by your murder, burning with the need to remind rafe of how sick he was.

your violent lover let you bleed before him, and without tending to your wounds or simply sitting with immediate regret, he soaked in his actions and dismissed it.

why couldn’t he be gentle? was him painting you blue and purple not enough? did he have to go as far as killing his lover to satisfy the disdain and vexation he held for you?

was that enough? was that enough to make you enough?

rafe’s nights slowly turned interrupted and sleepless. your voice was always there, and time to time, he thought he saw you standing in his bedroom, drenched in blood and with tears streaming down your face as you kept asking him, “do you feel sick yet?”

sick. not regretful. fucking sick.

sleep deprivation was catching up to him, making him more mean and angry than usual, more out of control.

the coke wasn’t even helping either, only making everything worse.

he was at barry’s trailer, snorting endless lines of the white powder, trying to shake off the sight of you from last night.

“country club, you good?” barry asked, and rafe didn’t respond. “you don’t seem well, bro.”

“just need this shit, okay?” rafe mumbled, separating another drop of cocaine. “just… just want to sleep, need it.”

barry didn’t want to push him with more questions, minding his own business as the blond haired boy snorted up excessive amounts of lines.

rafe ended falling asleep on his couch, barry mindlessly scrolling on his own phone as he laid down on his bed.

the cold air from the air conditioner ran around in the basement, making it more freezing and chilling than usual.

rafe could smell strawberry perfume, indicating you were around. he looked around, and saw nothing of you.

“where are you!” he screamed. “you can’t scare me, you bitch!”

“i’m not here to scare you,” you talked, rafe spinning around to find you perched in the corner of the basement. you careened closer, the dim light emphasizing on your mangled body.

rafe stared at your stomach, where immense stab wounds laid on it. he swallowed thickly, his breath shaking and jagged.

“do you feel sick?” you asked, and rafe looked up at you. he couldn’t move in this dream, he was paralyzed and a witness to your lacerated body.

nausea and despair washed over rafe, almost consuming him entirely.

you were finally face to face with him, your hair disheveled and bunched, face stained with tears and runny makeup, all for him to look at.

rafe could feel your physical touch, your soft hand grabbing his, and made his palm touch your abdomen. he almost fucking threw up.

you could see it, you could see he was wanting to vomit everywhere. “am i making you feel sick?” you asked, and rafe shivered, forcing his hand to put more pressure on your stomach, blood rushing out onto it. “am i making you feel sick?”

rafe screamed and lurched up, his eyes opening and alarming barry. “woah, what the fuck, rafe!” barry shouted, and rafe breathed rapidly, his heart thumping against his chest, a need to vomit.

rafe brought his face into his hands, trying to shake everything out of his hand.

your face, your touch, your blood — he felt it all. he was being reminded of you, when he didn’t want to.

barry kept asking him what was wrong, why he was crying, if he was okay, but all rafe could focus on was your voice asking, “am i making you feel sick?”

he was no longer immune to his destruction. he was becoming infected by it. you were a disease that he couldn’t treat, a parasite that ate at his brain.

he would never get rid of you — and you would make sure that he never did.

it was month seven without you, and you became a faded name to the outer banks. the only people who lived on to tell your name was your parents, and your best friends. the pogues carved your name into the chateau’s tree, a ceremonial bench placed at the high school.

your body or you weren’t ever discovered, but the police had listed you as deceased. you weren’t a runaway, you were eighteen, and had nothing to runaway for. when you couldn’t be traced anywhere on the grid, the police pronounced you dead, and that was that.

pictures of you and any sort of evidence remained in a cardboard box somewhere in the police station. you were left to rot in every way.

you were tired of being forgotten, but more exhausted that nobody knew that your boyfriend did this, and you probably weren’t going to be the first girl he killed.

rafe cameron needed to know what he did, and you wanted to do everything you could to make him drag himself to the police station, sit down, and say, “i killed her — and i enjoyed every fucking second of it.”

madness was becoming rafe. he was already an insane, depraved fuck before, but the lack of sleep and memories of the murder were catching up to him for good.

dark circles were around his eyes, hair greasy and messy, his body tired. he felt like he was going to snap any second.

he kept drinking, smoking weed and doing coke back to back, surprised that his heart didn’t give out yet.

a random exhaustion toll pushed over him, laying him down on the floor of his bedroom, and his eyes threatened to snap shut.

he didn’t want to sleep, he was afraid to. he was afraid to see you, with your bloody dress and sad face, making him touch your wounds.

rafe didn’t win the fight of sleeping, and he knocked out cold on his bedroom floor.

he wasn’t in the basement, he was in his bedroom, and he could hear your feet padding away to the front of the house, to your car.

oh, he was reliving the night. and he couldn’t stop. he couldn’t get out of the memory — he was facing everything.

he saw you bloody by his doorframe, and you tilted your head. “why are you doing this?” he asked, his voice sounding as if he was trapped in a void.

you only frowned. “so you know.”

like a reflex, rafe hurriedly rushed over to you outside before you could get away, seizing you away, and taking you to the basement.

he pinned you down to the ground, and screamed at you to stop crying, upset and angry you were willing to betray him when he did everything for you.

you were sobbing, but it became echoes and his ears rang, everything around him becoming silent except his own heavy breathing. he grabbed the knife that sat in his pocket, and he could see your eyes widen with fear to the sight of the object.

“rafe!” you screamed in the first stab. he hit you sharp and right in the abdomen.

he held his knife there for a second, like time was freezing him, and he felt a hot breath at the side of his face.

it was you.

“am i making you feel sick?” you asked, and rafe proceeded to stab you as you sobbed. you cried out his name, trying to fight away the knife, promising to be good and for him to stop.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

rafe couldn’t stop, he couldn’t control himself. he kept stabbing you as you screamed. he was a monster, with the inability to suppress his anger or violence.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

a part you thought you were making him feel sick because of how mutilated your body was; that the body he was once desired, was now filling him with disgust. you wondered if how butchered you looked, was making him uncomfortable and sick. he didn’t deserve your concern, but it happened anyway. was it making him sick?

rafe wanted to cry, but couldn’t. he was revisiting the person he was in this moment, and could see life vanish from your eyes, death taking you away.

he took one last stab, and held it there like the first one. you kneeled in front of him, looking over at your corpse for a moment before your eyes settled into his raging ones.

he held prolonged eye contact with you as you inched your face close to his, but kept a safe distance. you placed your hand on top of his murdering one, and with a blank face, lastly asking him, “am i making you feel sick?”

rafe broke eye contact with you to look at your deceased body, and realized and remembered this murder. your organs could be nearly seen, blood gushed and poured out everywhere, your body cold and still.

he dropped the knife, and eyed you. “i’m sorry.”

you shook your head, and sighed. “you will revisit this everyday as long as you live,” you said, sniffling. “all i wanted was to be yours, and be good enough, rafe. was i no good?”

he didn’t have an answer, and with that, you got up, staring over at your body. “i want you to know,” you chuckled softly to yourself, “i never blamed you for loving me the way that you did. i forgive you, especially since i’m happier where i’m at.”

“heaven?” rafe asked.

you nodded. “you won’t make it here, but i’ll still hope and wait that you do — because i love you too much to let god be angry with you too.”

“he’s an angry man?”

“he’s angry and unfair,” you responded. “like someone i know. i loved god, i loved you; two men who didn’t view me as much, who don’t deserve for me to believe in them.”

rafe went quiet, and enough time went by for you to disappear for good to let rafe cry, and scream. he cried and sobbed, dry heaving as he vomited everywhere to the sight of you.

he killed you, and as long as he kept it to himself, you would drive him mad and insane with the knowing of it.

rafe cameron confessed to your murder only hours later. he drove himself to the police station, and confessed to every detail, telling sheriff shope where your body was.

they found your maimed body in the exact location where rafe told them it was, your body already decomposing into near bones, eaten by critters and bugs.

the earth was consuming you.

he was hated forever, the town wanted him torched or given the death penalty. it would be a while until he got a trial.

your funeral could be proper with your body in a casket, given a rightful way to be down in the ground, protected and secured by a box stuffed with silk fabric.

you could see your mom cry, and you wish she wouldn’t. your father had to give the prayer at your funeral, your best friends sobbing, and hating themselves for not getting you away from rafe sooner.

however, your death was simply inevitable. if rafe didn’t kill you, your love for him would. he was everything to you.

even when he was murdering you — getting a vile satisfaction from it — you were worried about him, if you and your maimed body was making him feel more nauseous and sick than the actual murder was.

rafe would live with the knowing that you truly loved him, and he took your life every single day that he spent in a prison block cell.

and your ghost would continue to linger and haunt him, never letting him know peace and serenity as he never did to you.

#rafe cameron #outer banks #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron outer banks #obx #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fluff #drew starkey obx #drew starkey one shot #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #drew starkey x reader #outer banks imagine #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron x female reader

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actual-changeling · 3 months

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Welcome back to Alex's unhinged meta corner! I am fuelled up with coffee and my adhd medication, so this is about to be a RIDE.

Apologies in advance, since this post will probably get quite long and also scientific at some point, but I will try to keep it as plain and easy to understand as possible. Combine two of my special interests (Good Omens and chemistry) and you get absolutely insane infodumps; it's a blessing and a curse.

As always, this is simply a theory, and maybe I'm wrong, maybe we'll never find out. But it's an option, and I have canonical proof.

There have been endless theories about why the Gabriel-Hiding-Miracle (which I will shorten to GHM) set off alarm bells in heaven and reached a strength of 25 Lazarii. Are their half-miracles really combined that strong? Does it depend on their relationship or love?

Well, today I am here to tell you that, actually, there is no such thing as "half a miracle".

We are going to have a closer look at miracles themselves, but the first important thing to keep in mind is that most of the time, Crowley and Aziraphale are incredibly unreliable narrators and have barely any inside into how heaven and hell work. Remember, they have been on earth since 4004 BC, they are certainly not used to any of the internal routines and functions.

They can tell us all kinds of things, but that does not make them true.

Now, miracles!

Both angels and demons are capable of performing them, though they only seem to be counted as actual miracles when they happen on earth, seeing as they measured in Lazarii.

One Lazarus equals the miracle power it takes to bring one human being back to life—the consequence is that miracles must be bound to the earthly plane, since that is where their unit originated from. When they are performed in heaven or hell, they are still miracles in a broad sense—celestial beings using their powers—but not in a way that ascribes to the measuring system.

Neil once answered an ask about Lazarus as a unit, and he stated that miracles tend to be measured in Centi- or Millilazarii (mostly the latter), meaning that the GHM was about 1000x as strong as your usual, daily miracle. The labeling also tells us that the scale for Lazarii is the same as the metric one.

If we treat Lazarus as a base unit, we need to find a way of defining it that is unique to this specific unit.

Globally, we have a collection of agreed-upon base units, the SI units (coming from the French Système international d'unités, aka International system of Units). Those seven are second, metre, kilogram, ampere, candela, kelvin, and mole, and every single one has a very specific definition—they are too bloody complex. None of them can be expressed with one of the other SI units, which gives you great definitions such as these:

A little excursion for those that are interested: For a very long time, the kilogram was defined by. well. A cube. The "true kilogram", which is still in a vault somewhere in Paris. However, you can probably imagine why basing a unit on a physical objects isn't a great idea long-term, so back in 2018, the kilogram was redefined, along with three other units.

Now, all SI units are defined by natural constants, not physical objects, making them accurate and (more or less) absolute.

Back to miracles!

The reason I am telling you all this is that we need to find such a basic definition for miracles, too, or at least an approximation.

My proposal is that a miracle itself is the force exerted on matter by a a celestial being. That force is then measured in Lazarii, with one Lazarus being equal to the force required to bring one person back to life. This is where it gets a bit tricky because how do you visualize that kind of force?

Matter cannot be destroyed only created, so all the particles currently making up our bodies will continue to exist long, long after our deaths. Meaning when a person dies, the amount of matter that was them is still there, the consequence of which is that their body can be recreated at will. Now, souls seem to be separate from matter, making them metaphysical and thus irrelevant for this conversation. I am going with the assumption that once a body has been recreated, the soul can be put back into without additional cost in miracle power.

There might be another base unit hidden in the metaphysical, but that's a conversation for another time.

All of this amounts to one fundamental hypothesis:

A miracle is either done, meaning matter gets changed, or it isn't, meaning matter remains unchanged.

There is no in-between stage here, a "half-change" is not possible, either you exert a force on particles or you don't. What kind of change that is might not be tangible for us, but a change is a change.

When Crowley and Aziraphale try to hide Gabriel, they change the way he gets perceived, how others perceive him, aka they change the way his presence is processed.

The closest thing to compare it to, in my opinion, is the superior mirage—the Fata Morgana. At its core, it means that light bends as it passes through air layers with different temperatures; your eyes perceive the bent light rays and your brain processes them accordingly. You see images that aren't actually there.

Celestial beings look at Gabriel but see something that isn't actually there, so the "true" image remains hidden.

If we stick to this metaphor, then Crowley creates a mirage for any ethereal beings, and Aziraphale creates one for occult beings. The creation of that mirage is one miracle—not half a miracle, but ONE singular miracle. Both of them change matter, and both of these miracles can exist independently of each other.

Crowley and Aziraphale could have created their mirages on their own, meaning that two miracles were performed, not two halves of one miracle.

If you listen to the sound of the miracles, you can hear that it's different from the other ones they have performed on their own, with the "combined" miracle having two sound peaks instead of one. Tumblr hates it when I upload audio files, so have it like this.

In order, the miracles are Aziraphale lowering the chandelier and moving the shelves, Crowley removing the paintball stain, and the GHM.

IF they had both performed half a miracle, the end result would have been one miracle, meaning it should have sounded like any other—but it didn't! Two connected sounds, two simultaneous miracles.

There is still one thing left to talk about, which is the power of their miracle. Here is where my previous definition of Lazarus as a unit comes into play again.

Heaven measured a miracle power of 25 Lazarii aka a very high amount of force exerted on matter. You might think Alex, if they both performed their own miracle, how come that the alarm bells rang?

If we keep up the mirage metaphor, we can explain that! Crowley's intention was to make it so that ethereal beings cannot perceive him, so his miracle changed matter in a way that aligns with ethereal perception.

However, Aziraphale intended to change matter so that occult beings cannot perceive Gabriel, meaning his miracle changed matter in a way that is adapted to occult perception.

This is where science comes into play again!!

You see, particles aren't just particles, they are waves too. Wave-particle duality describes exactly that, e.g. an electron being both a particle and a wave at the same time. A connected theory to that is the Uncertainty principle, which describes the inability to measure the exact value of two different properties at the same time.

Or, to put it more plainly, if you try to figure out the exact position of a particle, its momentum becomes blurred, unclear. If you then focus on the momentum of the same particle, you can no longer describe its exact position.

You are probably looking at me now, thinking where the fuck are they going with this and why are there suddenly so many principles of quantum mechanics in a Good Omens meta post???

Crowley changes matter in way A.

Aziraphale changes matter in way B.

Those changes can co-exist, like an electron being a particle and a wave at the same time. However—and this is scientific theory adapted to celestial miracles—when an angel looks at Gabriel, then they are focusing on state A. When demons are looking at Gabriel, they are focusing on state B.

Focus on A and B becomes blurry. Focus on B and A becomes blurry.

Maintaining that double-state requires power though, because compared to wave-particle duality, these states aren't natural, they're inflicted—matter was changed. It's like the matter around Gabriel is flickering between those two states, a light switch trying to find a neutral position when there is only on and off.

How do we measure that power? In Lazarii.

The miracle energy that heaven measured is not that high because they each performed half a miracle and combined it into one, it is that high because they each performed one miracle that stands in opposition to the other; as a result, two different states need to be maintained at the same time, meaning the manipulation is ongoing, meaning it needs a fuckton of power.

If you want to keep balancing your light switch, you need to keep trying, you need to keep up the pressure, otherwise you either click it off or on. Same thing with the hiding miracle.

Twenty-five Lazarii.

The power you need to exert on matter to reshape twenty-five people—or to continuously hide one being from two opposing observers with rapidly-switching state changes.

While I think the whole "it's because of love" theory is fun and cute, scientifically it really doesn't make much sense because their powers have rules similar to our base units, so me must approach and treat them as such.

With that, thank you to everyone who made it this far and managed to survive our little excursion into the field of quantum mechanics.

Questions, thoughts, additions, etc. are very welcome!

#alex talks good omens #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable wives #ineffable spouses #good omens meta #half a miracle #alex's unhinged meta corner

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williamrikers · 10 months

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okay. fuck. i need to talk about be my favorite. because jesus christ, this might be THE smartest show currently airing, which is a miracle at a time when la pluie is also airing.

so, this episode we learned more about kawi's and pisaeng's family backgrounds, and oh boy, is there a lot to unpack there... and it all works to explain why the original timeline was the way it was, why everything turned out so fucked up for both of them in the beginning.

(very rambly thoughts under the cut)

first of all, it's important to note how much of an impact kawi's father's death had. it was always clear that this was a traumatizing event in kawi's life, literally the first thing he did when he went back in time was to ditch the (supposed) girl of his dreams so he could be with his father, tearfully hug him and tell him "i love you, dad".

now, we're learning that after his father's death, kawi completely gave up on himself. he literally didn't see any reason to pursue a better life or his dreams because his father would never get to see it and be proud of him. i think this also explains to some extent why kawi has so much trouble accepting help from others: he has internalized the idea that he somehow has to do everything on his own, so his father (and others) can be proud of him. it's interesting that kawi obviously loves his father a lot but they're not really close: they don't see each other very often and in the first episode, it's established that they don't usually talk to each other about their feelings, either.

so. everything else that happened to kawi in the og timeline (knot making fun of his singing, pisaeng "stealing" his spot as pear's secret buddy, his falling out with max, kawi being too much of an introvert to make any new friends at uni) was compounded by the fact that after his father's death, kawi saw no hope for himself any more, and he ended up alone, isolated, friendless, depressed and deeply unhappy.

and now that we're learning more about pisaeng as well, it's becoming clear that something similar happened to pisaeng in the og timeline as well, only for him it was not a single event but more the reality of him being gay and having a crush on kawi (come on. nobody can tell me he DIDN'T crush on that cute awkward nerd as soon as kawi dropped his lil notebook in front of the seniors on the first day of uni), but kawi never even speaking to him and completely ignoring his existence... while pisaeng's own mother was adamant about pisaeng staying as deep in the closet as possible because it's bad for her political ambitions to have an out gay son. she basically tells him "you can feel whatever you want to feel but telling people about it is something that you should only do with my permission".

so, pisaeng has been getting told by his mother to stay in the closet since he was 15 years old (JESUS!!!), and since his crush is obviously unrequited and hopeless, why should he risk anything by being honest about it? his family is rich, pear's family too, their marriage is one of convenience for pisaeng, who gets to keep living his good life while placating his mother and spending his life with a person he's friends with, even if he can never love her romantically. from his mother's perspective, pear and pisaeng must be a good match, and pisaeng has no real reason to fight any of it. because coming out as gay would do nothing but cause him trouble and make him unhappy.

but in the new timeline, kawi is there as pisaeng's friend. and pisaeng falls for him so much deeper than he ever could have done in the og timeline. and now he HAS to figure himself out, HAS to confront his own queerness, not for kawi or even with kawi (utterly brilliant choice in the last episode to have pisaeng go on this journey alone!) but for himself, because it is becoming clear that he is living a lie and that he can't go on like this. having kawi in his life changes everything for pisaeng -- even if they weren't in a bl and were simply friends, this storyline would still be incredibly compelling because even while they're not in a relationship, kawi and pisaeng keep challenging each other, keep changing each other, keep making each other better, more honest people.

when they're in bed together and kawi asks why pisaeng likes him, he says much of the same stuff he's said before: that pisaeng is better, richer, more handsome than him, that he can't understand what pisaeng sees in him. but he says it differently this time, not with anger or defiance like in the beginning of their friendship, but so honestly, he's able to open up to pisaeng in a way he never could before just because he has had pisaeng in his life and they have had an impact on each other.

i keep coming back to this because it's something i rarely see in stories and bmf is doing it AMAZINGLY. both of the protagonists go on a journey of growth and self-improvement through knowing each other, they literally make each other better. and even though kawi is not at a point where he can see them as equals, he can honestly talk about this now, can voice his feelings of insecurity in a way he was never able to before -- and so, pisaeng can say, well, i think you're cute, does there have to be anything more to it than that? he doesn't try to talk kawi out of his self-perception, merely states his own perception of him in a way kawi can't argue away. i think this is a smart writing choice because kawi has to accept that pisaeng finds him cute, he can't say "no you don't" without accusing him of lying.

and oh, my baby kawi being so incredibly deep in denial is tugging at my heartstrings. there's a very interesting parallel happening with kawi's singing, something he was obviously dreaming of as a career when he was a child but completely gave up on -- until pisaeng and pear helped him gain confidence to put himself out there once again. i think something very similar is happening with his sexuality: he has shoved the truth of himself so far back in his own mind that it takes a long time and the knowledge that pisaeng is into him for kawi to even entertain the thought of maybe also being into him maybe. there's a certain safety in that, just like there's safety in having pear there while he reads his song lyrics to a room full of people. and that's not a bad thing! this show has consistently shown (and outright told) us that people need to help each other, that literally no one is capable of making it on their own, that everyone deserves love and support. and kawi needs a lot of love and support to be able to even let himself think of pisaeng in romantic terms. i am seriously excited to see what happens next, now that kawi has crossed the line between them, now that he got a taste of what he could have if only he let himself.

there are probably a million things i haven't said that i can't think of right now. but every single episode leaves me more impressed than the last, the story is written SO well and presented in such a smart way, later revelations recontextualizing things we already know, and with every week, everything makes more and more sense. and learning more about their families really explains a lot about all three of them (god, i haven't even mentioned pear's rich upper-class alcoholic father, a lot to unpack there as well!), and how they got where they were in the og timeline as well as in the current timeline.

thanks for reading 😘

#be my favorite #be my favorite the series #*mine

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cilil · 2 months

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Manwë Week Day 1

"Brother, where are you going?"

Day 1: Family | Breath & Air Relationship(s): Manwë & Melkor Synopsis: Despite many rejections, Manwë tries to connect with his brother Warnings: / AO3

To Manwë, his brother was nothing short of a miracle. Older, greater and so intelligent and wise in his innocent eyes, he was the light of his life and the very first being he had ever perceived right after his birth, even before he had heard his father's voice for the first time.

To Melkor, his brother was a nuisance, and his callous willingness to express such sentiments caused Manwë a lot of grief and hurt.

Whenever he wasn't cradled in the arms of his father or instructed in the ways of music and the making of things, the young Vala followed him around the Timeless Halls like an ethereal, cloud-like duckling. He soon began to mimic the way his older brother shaped his spirit as well, assuming a form with arms, legs and a head; one he would one day recognise as reminiscent of his father's yet unborn children and the appearance He Himself took while handling them, from which he assumed Melkor's inspiration had come.

Manwë's form, still small and clumsy, was shrouded in a gentle white and blue glow and covered by fluffy clouds he had breathed into existence all by himself, a feat that had made his father proud and Melkor laugh at him with something he not yet understood as contempt. He only knew it was bad because Eru had scolded the older Vala for it.

"Brother, where are you going?"

Melkor was once again leaving him behind after singing together for their father, abandoning him in front of the throne, and Manwë hurried after him, hoping that maybe he would feel inclined to play with him this time. His optimism and faith in the ultimate triumph of good, undying and eternal like he himself was, had already led to many rejections, at times even being pushed away and thrown around by his mightier brother, but his innate desire to love and please those around him was ever stronger.

When Manwë reached out with his spirit, he was instantly met with a wall of a strong, distinctly unfriendly emotion he didn't understand; one that he would one day learn was called anger.

"Go away."

"But why?"

He approached Melkor without fear, opening his heart freely to show him his love and admiration.

"Can I come with you?"

"No. I don't want you to."

"Can we maybe play together?"

"No. I don't want to play with you."

"Can we sing together?"

"I need no other voices. Only you do."

Manwë's spirit shrunk a little. He was not so young and naive anymore as to not grasp the concept of being unwelcome, but he still didn't understand why, and his brother had never bothered to explain. His best guess was that he was simply too small and unimpressive for someone as amazing as Melkor, even though his father often told him how lovely he was.

"But why, brother? Have I done anything wrong?" Manwë asked; while he was willing to leave if it made his brother happy, he felt a strong need to at least understand his mistake.

"Because I need no others by my side."

Melkor turned to leave him behind once more, as he always did.

"You don't have to need me. We can just... be together?" Manwë tried. Yet instead of placating his brother, it only resulted in their exchange being cut short and him being pushed back, blown away like a feather in the wind.

All he could do was float in place and watch Melkor vanish into the ethereal light of their father's realm.

— — —

Manwë had considered returning to Eru to be with him instead, yet his spirit felt heavy and burdened with an unknown emotion he would one day understand as shame. He wanted to make his father and brother happy, not to have them be upset with him or on his behalf, so he hid himself and searched his ëala for whichever shortcomings prevented him from connecting to his beloved sibling.

Alas, his search was — as it had always been before — unsuccessful, for Manwë in his youth and innocence couldn't grasp the concepts and emotions that Melkor's heart had begun to conceive ever since others were born beside him, most notably the ability to hate and envy; and ever and anon would these things elude him, as Eru had designed him to be free of what would one day be called evil.

Thus Manwë eventually wandered the Timeless Halls alone, repeating all the melodies he remembered and making more little clouds that he shaped to his heart's content, moving them around by summoning his element. His father had told him that he would one day be the Breath of Arda, the world that was to come; and whereas his understanding of such a destiny was as of yet limited, he nevertheless felt that it was good to practice.

There was a shape he loved in particular, one born and growing from the slowly awakening seeds of inspiration he carried within him. Manwë imagined creatures he was going to make in the future, beings of wind and air like him, with wings and feathers and other features he would devise together with Yavanna.

He had shown Melkor his ideas, proud that he had finally been inspired like his great brother was all the time, and had been told that his designs were silly and stupid. Still, Manwë held on to his winged creatures and played with them when he was by himself, shaping their likeness with his element and carrying them around like the Children would one day have their stuffed toys.

It was then that he came upon his brother again by accident, holding on to the biggest cuddle-cloud he had made yet. Melkor was curled up in a corner and unusually still and silent, seemingly resting from whatever he had been up to in the meantime.

Surely it must have been a great and miraculous deed if it could exhaust his strong sibling so, Manwë thought in awe, and approached him as quietly as he could. Perhaps Melkor hadn't meant to hurt him earlier and merely thought his little brother was too young to join him. Perhaps he was protecting him like his father always did.

Lighting up with joy, Manwë wanted to curl up beside him and snuggle up to him, but something inside him told him not to. As great as his optimism and love for his brother were, he had on some level understood that his presence might still be unwelcome; yet even so, he wanted to do something to show Melkor just how much he loved him, to give him a part of himself to nurture their bond.

Tenderly and carefully, Manwë nudged the older Vala's ëala until its limb-like appendages opened up and placed his cuddle-cloud in its embrace. Melkor shifted then, seemingly sensing that something was nearby, but remained in his state of meditative rest. Instead he embraced his brother's creation, and a few soft notes of contentment emanated from him.

He likes it! Manwë thought to himself, glowing brightly with pride and joy, and continued to watch his brother for a while longer until he left him alone again.

Maybe Melkor didn't need his company and thought he didn't want it either, but there was a part of his ëala that liked when a part of his brother was with him and sought comfort in the closeness of another; and if Manwë was going to return to his father's loving embrace, he should get some cuddles as well.

Thanks for reading! ♡

taglist: @asianbutnotjapanese @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @bluezenzennie @edensrose @eunoiaastralwings @i-did-not-mean-to @melkors-defense-attorney @singleteapot @stormchaser819 @wandererindreams @manweweek

#manweweek #manwe week #manwe #manwë #manwe sulimo #melkor #morgoth #valar #ainur #silm fanfic #silmarillion fanfiction #silmarillion #cílil writes #my writing

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martianbugsbunny · 6 months

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Maybe Disney needs to try taking on a fairytale they haven't done yet. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy more original stories like Raya and the Last Dragon and Encanto that as far as I'm aware don't originate from any particular legend (feel free to correct me if I'm wrong tho). Those are fun. Exploring different magical concepts like dragons and the miracle is awesome.

But that being said, I think Disney needs to go back to its roots and do a fairytale. Something with a princess and a big bad that comes from an existing legend. That's (generally) where Disney excels. That's why people love Disney. Little Mermaid? Classic. Beauty and the Beast? Classic. Princess and the Frog? Classic. Cinderella? Classic. Snow White? Classic. Really, I just think Disney does what Disney does best when they're taking a story that already exists and turning it into a beautiful piece of animation with a gentle, kind soul at the center of it, maybe with a different little spin like setting the Frog Prince story in 1920s New Orleans or having Beauty's father be an inventor. Little touches like that to make the story uniquely Disney, but with a solid basis in a folk narrative that touches something deep and instinctual inside most people.

Give me a girl who's cursed. A girl who either falls prey to evil or makes a deal with it, and whose sweetheart fights for her like Aurora or who does the brave thing and sacrifices to fix it like Ariel.

Give me a girl who's trapped. A girl whose family keeps her down or who just hasn't found where she fits yet, who stays kind despite her troubles like Cinderella or who finds her own alternative way out like Belle.

Heck, even a weird-ass thing like Shakespeare But Lions would be welcome. That's such a Disney thing to do, taking a story like Hamlet and filling it with whimsy and giving it a happy ending. Plus, Simba is one of the strongest protagonists and learns one of the best lessons in all of Disney fight me.

(I'm not going to count Frozen in the folk story group because the departure from the original was so wild I don't think it deserves to count. I love Elsa with my entire soul but I would also die to see Disney do a proper version of the Snow Queen fairytale.)

Look, my point is that I'd like to see something that really makes Disney dig a little deeper and recapture the spark of its classics. Because as much as I enjoy stuff like Tangled and Frozen and Moana (I've watched all of them loads of times and I cry about them consistently) they don't come to mind as Disney classics for me. Maybe that's just me. Maybe it simply hasn't been enough time. Maybe it's the difference in the animation. Speaking of that, however, I would actually love to see a Disney movie done in a 2D style again; I don't think 3D has any inherent superiority and I'd love to see what Disney could do with a 2D movie now. And there are so many folk stories in the world, surely there must be one that Disney can bring to life the way it used to. They haven't retold every story that's been told already.

Am I being a little picky? Probably. But I'd love to see something that reminds me of the Disney classics where a gentle person with a courageous core has their life touched by magic, faces an obstacle, and has a happy ending. Something that's not a variation on "X needs to be saved" but a specific character longing for a specific thing and either doing what they think is necessary to get it (like Tiana and Ariel) or giving it up for the sake of someone else, but getting a happy ending nonetheless (like Belle and Simba). Also a clear-cut badguy who gets to be absolutely cunty and evil about it with no peculiar twist.

I'd like to see something Classic Disney again.

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esoteric-chaos · 2 months

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What is Ancestor Work? Breaking it down and how to start + extra's

TW for death and sensitive topics in this post. Especially when we get into the category of ghosts. You have been warned. The appropriate tags have been placed below.

What is Ancestor work?

Ancestor work is venerating and working with well, you guessed it. Your ancestors. Why do we want to work with them though? Creating relationships with the known and forgotten dead can lead to many great things for yourself such as learning how to break generational curses and cycles. Creating these meaningful and loving relationships with those long since past has been one of the most heartwarming parts of my practice.

I find it is important for people of all ancestry to work with and honour their ancestors. There is much to heal and grow from. We learn through mistakes of the past and some of those mistakes we have to heal from for cycles to be broken.

Who are our Ancestors?

Just who are your ancestors though? According to Honouring Your Ancestors by Mallorie Vaudoise they are your Blood Ancestors, Lineage Ancestors, Affinity Ancestors, Saints, Spirit Guides, Ghosts or Related Spirits.

Blood Ancestors are exactly how they sound. They are the ancestors you find within your family tree that goes all the way back to the beginning of when humans first came around. This goes into the known dead who are ancestors we know of and can be traced back. These ancestors are easier to work with as we have a direct line to them. The unknown dead are unknown ancestors that we can't trace back. Perhaps we only have a name and know nothing about them or maybe we know they existed but have no information at all. This happens to be the case for most of us learning our family tree.

Lineage Ancestors are ancestors we gain through partnerships like marriage, adoption or even initiation such as in a closed society. Examples include religions like Wicca or any religion which needs initiation.

Affinity Ancestors are those who share your cultural identity or even something you are talented in. For example, you are fluent in the arts and you are an artist or musician. You may see a famous passed-on talented artist to venerate as an ancestor. As someone who's LGBTQ+, we can look throughout history and choose to honour and venerate famous LGBTQ+ figures in history as our ancestors as well. In times like this, it is important to venerate and honour these figures in life for strength and courage to move forward.

Saints are found in many cultures. A single example of a saint from a Christian and Catholic point of view is a Christian or Catholic who has passed on and performed miracles before or after death. Then they were elevated to sainthood by the church (This is all from a standpoint as my family comes from a Catholic and Lutheran background). There are also folk saints who are venerated in a specific region or location because of something that was done within that region. Then we have pop culture saints. Pop culture saints for example are people who have influenced or have done things for a group of people that we resonate with deeply. While they do not perform miracles they are venerated as significant to that group.

Spirit Guides are elevated ancestors who have decided to walk alongside us on our journey. They are not usually connected to us by blood or lineage, however, in some cases, they are. In many cultures, you see the concept of a "court". Which is a group of guides. I refer to my ancestors, guides and deities as my spiritual team personally as I am not involved in such cultures that use courts but still am among the belief that I have a group of close guides on my journey as do most others without encroaching on that culture's significance.

Ghosts as Mallorie Vaudoise in Honouring Your Ancestors I agree with their description of ghosts. Some spirits are burdened by the realities of what they went through during their living days. Some call it spiritual disease or they simply lack the power to aid. The spiritual disease of their burdens causes them to act irresponsibly. A lot like Mallorie Vaudoise I too was told ghosts still roam this plane due to unfinished business and they seek resolution through the living for now they feel powerless or they wish to still seek what they started. This can be a grey area for things like passing on murder victims, abusers, children, and relatives. When you are getting into spiritual work it is very important you have strong boundaries and protections. If you do not want to help a spirit move on since you do not identify as a working medium. Do NOT let them step on you. Assert your boundaries, banish and protect. It is not your responsibility to handle the business of otherworldly concerns just because you are a practitioner. If you would like to help a spirit move on, praying in their name to help ease them into the afterlife is a great way to do so to give them strength. May I repeat though, not your responsibility if that is not your focus point.

Related spirits such as land spirits, house spirits and non-human ancestors.

Land spirits are spirits which reside on the land you live on. They can be humans, plants or animals that were born, lived or passed on that land. Honouring the spirits of the land is very important. The land has gone through so much grief and colonization, rebuilding that relationship to take care of the land in turn they will take care of you.

House spirits are arguably land spirits. They reside on that very same land that you do. Proper acknowledgement of the house spirit itself (spiritual upkeep & physical cleaning) and the spirits that live within that old home. They can be from the materials that the foundation of that home is built on or other lesser-known entities. Try speaking to what's in your home. You'll be surprised by what you find.

Non-human ancestors. Through evolution, we have evolved from animals through a series of evolutions before that. So what makes you think we cannot have animal ancestors? Try doing some deep diving into evolution and doing some work with those animals or organisms. You might be pleasantly surprised.

Building your Ancestor Altar

Now that we have what an ancestor is out of the way. How do we build our altars and reach out?

Let's dive into how to make an altar space. We can add some simple tools such as fire, water, an altar cloth, pictures or representatives of ancestors like human skulls (please not real ones obviously), any holy images that bring personal power, offerings and methods of communication.

Fire aids in symbolism in prayer across cultures. If you cannot have real candles on your altar because your altar is within an unsafe place to do so, electric candles are excellent.

Water is said to represent the medium through which the spiritual energy passes. Have you ever felt really dehydrated after a spell, working or spiritual contact? So have I. You can only imagine how dehydrated your ancestors must feel. Leave them an offering of water and maybe even a snack in honour. Remember after veneration to hydrate and fuel yourself too.

Altar cloths are not just there to look pretty. They represent the hard work of our ancestors weiving and working with cloth over the years. Their beautiful craftsmanship is never forgotten. A simple piece of cloth on the altar is a great representation of all of their hard work.

Pictures or representations of our ancestors act as an anchor to connect with them. When I am working with the known dead I'll place photos of them and their names, birth dates and death dates along with a few notes on the back of their photo. With the unknown dead I'll use statues or skulls in place of them. My mother who recently passed is a good example of this. I placed her photos, and ashes, along with some things she may have liked on her little corner.

Holy images. Maybe your ancestors were religious and find comfort in religious imagery. Even incorporating your family's patron saint on the altar might bring them some joy. Do what feels right for you and them.

Offerings. Leaving them offerings such as water, coffee, alcohol, tobacco, and food. Anything you personally love especially as a sweet little treat. I find something you have a hard time parting with like that last piece of candy to be a great offering or that dish you're cooking that's been within the family for years.

Dedicated pendulum, tarot or any other method of communication so you can communicate with them efficiently.

What can I do with my Ancestor Altar? How to work it.

There are many ways you can work with your ancestor altar. You can use it as purely an act of prayer and veneration or you can use it as both for veneration and working.

Leaving oils, charms, bags and other spiritual items on the altar overnight to bless and give an extra kick or even some mundane items.

Incorporating them into a spell working for prosperity, blessings, healings, protections, etc.

Active working to break generational trauma and curses. Working through breaking cycles and helping them heal.

Turning to them for guidance and direction through divination from the tools in their space.

Aid in spiritually cleansing myself and my space from any negative influences.

How to reach out?

Reaching out there are many different methods. There are methods through prayer and divination for example. Many different people from different cultures and religions will have different ways of reaching out and praying. I never actively practiced any religion growing up so I adopted prayer through a folk catholic perspective from what my ancestors practiced and used my tarot deck as an adjacent. There's wrong way to pray. We pray from what feels right to us and from what is respectful.

Conclusion

There's no right or wrong way to work with your ancestors except for building a practice solely on gain. By gain, I mean getting them to do things for you. It is a relationship you are building. If that is not what you are seeking then ancestor veneration is not for you. It's the same for any relationship spiritual or not. Relationships freely flow between each other with mutual aid. Not everything is purely transactional. Keep things respectful and everything will be okay.

To close out I'm sure everyone is wondering "Do I have to work with my ancestors who did awful things?" the answer is no. We have to heal from and acknowledge what happened. Move forward with purpose and do the work but we absolutely do not have to go anywhere near them. Spirits are not all-knowing and not all have done the required work. I will echo a previous statement of mine. It is not your responsibility to handle the business of otherworldly concerns just because you are a practitioner.

If that person has not changed and grown in death. Move on and grow from the experience. While not everyone will agree with me I believe it is important to work with things when you are ready. A newer practitioner will not be prepared to work with such heavy energy. It will have to be worked with one day to heal but do not throw yourself in if you are not ready or maybe you just aren't equipped to do it and maybe it is someone else's journey in your lineage, not yours. Do not be hard on yourself if that is the case. Not everyone is built for that or ready. Be kind to yourself, that's what your ancestors want.

Extra's

Ancestor Oil

Need an oil for communication, veneration and one to work with your ancestors for all purpose? I got your back.

What you'll need

A clean and cleansed jar

Frankincense - helps in hardships, divine connection

Peppermint - money matters, underworld symbolism

Rosemary - protection, remembrance

Rose - raising spiritual vibration, love, symbol of blood

Lavender - Grief, dream work, relaxing

Myrrh - Spirit communication, psychic power, grief

Allspice - Awaken ancestors, drawn in favour

Coconut carrier oil - Moon, emotions, divination, spirit

You can either do the folk method or the hot method. You can find my post on infused oils here to learn how to make infused spell oils. I suggest if you are an animist or someone who wants more power from your oils. Speak to the herbs kindly, treat them less like an ingredient and ask them respectfully for their aid and the purpose they'll have in your oil. Use intention. The same goes for the Coconut oil.

You can sub any of these, however. Try to keep within the theme of the ingredients. Some of these are herbal allies so they will work differently for me than you. Do what feels right.

Blessings!

#witchcraft #witch #electic witch #witchblr #paganism #ancestor work #ancestor veneration #ancestor altar #ancestor magic #tw murder

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eyesfuil0fstars · 6 days

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Yours To Save

You have an eye for the simple things in life,

the trees,

the notes people stick on doors,

simple drawings on napkins,

pretty,colourful streets

and ancient buildings.

Maybe that’s why you noticed me,

half dead laying down on a street

begging for a miracle or a way to end this

and you came as if summoned,

a guardian angel,the streetlight behind you giving you a halo

as if the universe knew and was making a joke.

And then, a shadow of a feeling long forgotten,

burried so deep in me I had almost forgotten it existed.

A trembling hand reaching out towards me,pulling me in.

“Come here,” you said,voice uncertain yet unafraid,

“come here you fallen bird,

come here you blue star.

I can make something of you.”

You read me like no one else had done before.

You saw the twinkle in my eye and recognised it for what it was,

a craving to feel something.

A begging to live and not simply survive.

And now I’m this,

someone,a marble,a poem made out of everyone i’ve ever loved.

My central piece,my core,my heart,

is solely yours.

I carved a David solely for your eyes.

No museums will hold my bones.

I don’t need them to keep me, to see me.

I’m not art.

I’m yours to keep,

to take apart,

to see,

to judge,

to taste.

I’m yours to save.

#literature #phoebe bridgers #original poem #poem #poems on tumblr #spilled ink #poetry #spilled poetry #notes #prose #art #religion #religious imagery #poems and poetry #spilled writing #saviorcomplex #twin flame #love #guardian angel

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shortpplfedup · 10 months

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Love ain't easy, and I greatly respect dramas that show you how much it's a miracle that through all of humans' bullshit they still manage to connect to each other. I'm not really interested in convincing anybody on Step By Step, but I'm compelled to get my perspective down for the record.

I feel very strongly about love not being about what folks deserve, but about what they decide. An idea I struggle greatly with is the one that you earn love, that if you somehow hit upon the right combination of attributes and actions you get 'love points' or something and then somebody will be justified in loving you, but that you are undeserving of love if you are flawed or erroneous or stumble and do the wrong thing. I am just not a person who believes that any human being is undeserving of being loved. People can get together, and break up, without being deserving or undeserving of love. Deciding to love is not a reward. Deciding not to love anymore is not a punishment. Love isn't a game with winners and losers. This is my life's philosophy.

Step By Step is not a romance. It's got a romance in it, but the romance is only one story among all the stories the show wants to tell. The show wants us to see and understand how queer people exist at work in a corporate environment, how they navigate its hostilities, and especially its specific hostilities to queerness. They give us 3 archetypes of queer character at work to follow (Pat, Jeng and Chot), and then they expand outward to show us some of the other aspects of their lives that are also acting and impacting upon how they exist at work. Is this done cleanly? Yes and no. The throughline is strong, but the show occasionally focuses too hard on trying to explain something that's happening tangentially (Ae, Kanun and Beam), or on hammering a thematic parallel home (Jaab and Jen).

Why the romance if it's not the point? Because a) it's a thing that happens, but also b) because a lot of queerness for non-queer people simply isn't visible without sex and romance. 'It's about who you love', 'love is love', and similar phrases are how queerness is generally translated to those not on the inside of it, those who don't live it and have an intrinsic understanding of it, those for whom it is an othering thing. So the romance becomes a shorthand as it were. Look at Jeng and Pat this episode, especially Jeng called on the carpet in that meeting. His queerness becoming visible via his relationship with Pat is the 'problem'. Jeng's been queer the whole time, and they all knew it, they're not just finding out. Pat becomes the subject of vicious gossip over whether he has earned his accolades because his queerness has now become visible. Meanwhile Chot, who is visibly queer, outside of the love relationship in his life (which is cleverly rendered invisible by Krit's closet) has been subject to the commentary all along.

In building the romance out, the show naturally wants to use it to underscore some other ideas about work (capitalism) and queerness if they can. Ideas about passing and the closet. Ideas about what it's like to be a young person trying to build your career. Ideas about how you separate and balance or integrate your work and the rest of your life. Ideas about how you need a team to get things done. So yes, the romance ends up carrying a lot of the story without being the point of the story, and yes I can see how that could cause some dissonance.

The romance itself feels unsatisfying at this point because that's how it's meant to feel, I stand by that. Jeng and Pat didn't build a solid relationship, they liked each other and let the feelings carry them. They haven't yet decided to love, with all that entails. There is no emotional catharsis for the audience because there's no emotional catharsis for the characters. Their romance to this point has been an infatuation and a series of false starts. Pat and Jeng didn't know each other's core premises. They don't understand each other. They didn't really choose each other yet, they each held back. Their 'incompatibilities' are exacerbated by the workplace and their roles in it. They can't trust each other with all that in the way. But they DO like each other, and that hasn't gone away, and they can build that into a love in the future if that's what they want to try doing. But that's not about whether Jeng or Pat 'deserves' to be loved, that's about what they decide.

Step By Step has meant a lot to me. I'm confident that it understands its characters and the core story it wants to tell, and for me that story has worth in being told. The execution is somewhat messy, but I will always forgive a little messy execution for a good strong story.

#step by step #step by step the series

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mareenavee · 1 year

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⭐️ mages and literacy

Director's Cut -- Mages and Literacy in The World on our Shoulders

FRICKEN FANTASTIC. Thank you so much for asking about this specifically.

Actually, on a side note, my mom and I were talking about how strangely well read the people of Tamriel are considering the setting. I really love it even though it's relatively odd. We only ever meet a few authors in game, and never anyone who transcribes professionally. Certainly no printing presses. Maybe there are and we just don't know it.

On a more serious note, since literacy seems very common in the setting, generally speaking -- obviously like everywhere there will be exceptions to the rules, I'd like to talk just a bit about arcane text specifically. I'd mentioned before that becoming a mage, or at least becoming more skilled at the use of magic requires time, effort and study. Some people are naturally more inclined to do so, and some are not. There could be a myriad reasons, culturally or biologically or what have you.

I have a scene in chapter 2 where Hadvar gives a spell tome to Nyenna that he'd taken out of the keep in Helgen. The scene starts after she quickly understands and memorizes the words for the flames spell:

“How curious… I had no idea this could be so simple,” she said. “My mother never saw sense in trying to teach me. My purpose was to unite houses, and that’s it. At least according to her. It was a miracle I learned even the tiniest alchemic recipes in all the time I’d had to observe her work.” Hadvar looked at her, again with his eyebrows knit, making his broad face seem even wider than it was. She returned the confused stare. “Wait, is it not simple?”

“Magic definitely isn’t simple, no, I can assure you. I can’t make any sense of those scribblings no matter how many hours I stare at them. I know they’re written in Common but they start to swim around on the page like they’re not meant for eyes like mine,” Hadvar said, reading over her shoulder.

We're not exactly sure what language magic is written in, or if it exists in all languages, or is something else entirely. We're not sure if it's a manifestation of the blessings of Magnus or Julianos on Nirn, even. In my hc, sometimes the text is very difficult to read. Some people can't read it at all, though it's possible they could learn the spells if the words were ever spoken to them. Some people, especially considering the social attitude toward magic in Skyrim in this case, accept that arcane texts are more trouble than they're worth -- as Hadvar might in this scene. Or maybe there's more to it that we can't know.

I like to think the arcane texts are themselves magic of a sort, that spells and the intentions behind them are found in the shape of this language -- even if it's actually written in Tamrielic/Common. It's possible, for some, it's simply not something they're willing to put the effort in to comprehend.

Even if many people in Skyrim/Tamriel own and read many more books than would normally seem possible in such settings, arcane texts are probably on a different level. I would imagine that's probably why there's not very many spell tomes sitting around on peoples' bookshelves in their houses or anything like that. Usually one must go to where the mages are to borrow their copies.

There's probably a lot more we can extrapolate on this question, but there's surprisingly little lore about the mechanics of why spell tomes work. (Or really, why they get destroyed in game when you're done with them.) In the end, I think there's a lot of factors that influence why someone might become a mage, and perhaps a lot more as to why someone else might not, and some of that reason could be the difficulty of the craft and the amount of study and work that probably has to go into it under most circumstances. Less literacy, and more cultural and aptitude based.

(I like to think it's like any art in real life. Some people have natural affinities to do creative work, some don't. Anyone who wants to improve their skill in said art will need to put in the work, no matter how easily or not it comes to each specific artist.)

Thanks! This was fun to mull over :D

#AskMareena #MareenaWrites #skyrim #elder scrolls #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #fic writer #fanfic writer #fanfiction writing #skyrim fic #skyrim fanfic #skyrim fanfiction #ao3 #The World on Our Shoulders

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spacecravat · 9 months

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Thank you for being so kind and answering the differences so well. I want to know your explanation on the revived dove. Every single book fan I’ve talked to have strong opinions on the switch from Crowley reviving in the book to Aziraphale in the show. Why is that? And one thing I’ve noticed is that as much as Crowley and Aziraphale have differences in the TV and book versions, most of it is directly correlated to the bigger role that Heaven and Hell play in the show than in the book, thus the increased anxiety.

There are definitely people who care a lot more about the dove than I do. But essentially I think it's just a lovely small moment showing the contrast and lack of true difference between them. The angel is the one who kills an animal, through carelessness, and doesn't seem especially bothered by it. The demon is the one who gives life back to the dead, an unambiguously good deed.

Crowley found him on the pavement outside, trying to extricate a rather squishy dove from the arm of his frock coat. “It’s late,” said Aziraphale. “I can see that,” said Crowley. “Comes of sticking it up your sleeve.” He reached out and pulled the limp bird from Aziraphale’s coat, and breathed life back into it. The dove cooed appreciatively and flew off, a trifle warily.

And it's a tiny moment and doesn't even matter but I think it's more fun if Crowley does it.

Which also plays into their Arrangement. Sometimes Aziraphale does a temptation, sometimes Crowley does a blessing, just to help each other out!

The Arrangement was very simple, so simple in fact that it didn’t really deserve the capital letter, which it had got for simply being in existence for so long. It was the sort of sensible arrangement that many isolated agents, working in awkward conditions a long way from their superiors, reach with their opposite number when they realize that they have more in common with their immediate opponents than their remote allies. It meant a tacit non-interference in certain of each other’s activities. It made certain that while neither really won, also neither really lost, and both were able to demonstrate to their masters the great strides they were making against a cunning and well-informed adversary. [...] And then, of course, it had seemed even natural that they should, as it were, hold the fort for one another whenever common sense dictated. Both were of angel stock, after all. If one was going to Hull for a quick temptation, it made sense to nip across the city and carry out a standard brief moment of divine ecstasy. It’d get done anyway, and being sensible about it gave everyone more free time and cut down on expenses. Aziraphale felt the occasional pang of guilt about this, but centuries of association with humanity was having the same effect on him as it was on Crowley, except in the other direction. Besides, the Authorities didn’t seem to care much who did anything, so long as it got done.

And yeah, the increased presence of all the other angels especially makes a big difference for Aziraphale. In the book the only other angel we see is the Metatron, plus one offhand mention of Gabriel. Other than that they're distant superiors, there to complain if you go over your miracle budget but otherwise hands off and content to let Aziraphale do his own thing as long as he turns in his reports.

The TV show meanwhile has them hovering much more closely, so Aziraphale's increased anxiety definitely makes sense with that added factor.

(The demons have roughly the same scenes in both book and show, though, with a lot less created new. So we do already get to see Crowley dealing with his superiors in the book, meaning changes in his characterization feel less like this is the reason, and maybe are more to match the changes in Aziraphale.)

#asks #anonymous #good omens

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saglaophonos · 9 months

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how do you think the last ten minutes could have been better set up? because i have Ideas but i’m also a fool. a fool who did feel the pacing of season two was Off and would not at all have expected the kiss at the end had it not been spoiled for me.

i think the last ten minutes had two glaring set-up problems which were 1. it is way too easy to side with crowley in the break up and 2. aziraphale's decision to go back to heaven seems jarring. and sure, you can argue that you're meant to read them as both at fault, and that aziraphale's current character arc does align with his choice. and youd be right. but also if i had done it, it would've been better.

1. too easy to side with crowley (crowley needs to be more at fault)

the scene where crowley goes to heaven and learns about the second coming should've happened in episode 3 while aziraphale was in edinburgh. and crowley shouldve spent the next couple of episodes weighing whether or not he should tell aziraphale about what he knows. this would've continued & escalated the conflict of episode one, as crowley knows that telling aziraphale would spur him into action, but crowley's priority is keeping them and their "peaceful existence" undisturbed.

then in episode 5, i would tweak the sequence that starts with nina calling out crowley. crowley's reaction reads as "oh no i'm in love with aziraphale!" and my tweak is it shouldve been "oh no i can't hide my love for aziraphale anymore. i can't avoid the situation coming to a head any longer". crowley is avoidant. avoids external conflicts (the second coming) & avoids internal conflict (feelings for aziraphale). the ep 5 sequence ends with crowley's same conversation with gabriel and he decides that in order to keep them safe, he has to keep aziraphale in the dark about both things.

having crowley make the choice to not communicate with aziraphale be what indirectly leads to aziraphale accepting the archangel position in heaven would be a more satisfying way to punish crowley for his avoidant tendencies, while also bringing into larger emphasis for the viewer that this is something crowley still needs to work out on a character level, but also for their relationship to progress. then, you don't need the fanfictiony "maggie and nina tell crowley to confess" scene, because the reason why crowley confesses becomes obvious within the breakup scene itself. crowley realizes he caused the situation they're in by avoiding the issue; his next strategy is to force them both to confront the issue directly.

2. aziraphale's decision feels really s1 (establish motivation earlier)

okay the aziraphale fix i'll be more brief about. first of all, say you go the above route. having crowley worry that aziraphale would try to prevent the second coming if he found out about it wouldve helped lay the groundwork of explaining aziraphale's choice. but i wouldve also done the following

the fact that aziraphale really didn't care about maggie and nina getting together until he lied to heaven about it was such a missed opportunity. if aziraphale is insistent that he must and can fix heaven, that could've easily been mirrored though this plot. the aziraphale & maggie scene in episode 1 should've had aziraphale genuinely moved by maggie's plight - instead of brushing her off, he shouldve gotten invested on a personal level. maybe he just wants them to be happy, maybe its made more blatant that he sees the two as parallels for himself & crowley. idk. either way getting them together because of the miracle lie shouldve only been a secondary concern to him. it shouldve been personal. because the plot is all about how, no matter how much aziraphale would like to control the situation and manipulate it into going the way he thinks it ought to go, some things in life are simply beyond your control. but aziraphale can't see that, which would've more blatantly set up his motivation when he makes the choice to go back to heaven. aziraphale cannot reconcile with injustice; yet, in the same way you can't force two people to fall in love, you can't fix heaven.

and honestly? honestly you could tweak more. something you could really tweak for a better set up into episodes 5 & 6, but especially the last ten minutes, is 1941. anyway! can't wait for s3. hope they kiss!

#for the record i do not care that good omens 2 is bad lol #ask #good omens #meta

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for-yoongi0309 · 8 months

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231012 | RM on weverse

Hello

It is my last birthday in my twenties. Though I am not sure if it’s because of my professional characteristics, but it feels that a bit of shyness that accompanies the day that is called "birthday." even though i believe that its just a day that isn't too big of a deal in my opinion.. i yet feel so happy and blessed that so many people send their sincerest wishes.

From time to time, i think that love is something that gives and creates a name to someone. to where Kim Namjoon becomes ‘Kim Namjoon’. and it is all because of you, even although it is just one day out of the many 365 days in a year, 29 year old me isn’t just a day that is passing by.

Except I want to be a person who can be as honest as one can be, i wonder, to what extent exactly, could the existence of the untouchable and palpable of a relationship between fans and the artists that possibly go beyond and reach up to.

Can everything just be accepted under some kind of phantasm that is called love? I am still experiencing times where expressing my inner thoughts honestly becomes the heel of an Achilles, and then honesty becomes a wound, but i am still not so sure.

I had said in the past that i was sad and that it was growing harder for me to talk about things. I feel that statement still stands true however. but however, i have grown calmer. because i received so much sincerity that one may or may not receive in one’s life in the form of cloudbursting downpour.

I regarded despondency and futility to be cool, but i realized that i am also someone who is optimistic and positive. isn't that a miracle? lately I've been living with the phrase, ‘why not?’. i want to live by sharing the optimism that i have received from the people around me. and I am also pressing down and holding onto my next songs that will be released someday. yes. But could I show honesty in a more beautiful method other than with music? It's a truth everyone knows but it feels as if it's still not enough.

And that is why I sometimes wonder if i became BTS because of this. because i wanted to do so in various ways. whether it be through programs, interview, or dance, whatever it may be.. how blessed of a life this has become. and wherever i am, these things make me want to see it clearly with my own two eyes and reflect on. they say its destiny when things coincidentally overlap but they also say coincidence is also fate disguised as serendipity.

However, i think that is of a similar reason to why I'm writing this letter to you. it feels as if i would have written this letter in September of 2023, regardless of which version of me i would have been. every time, my birthday letter is describing the place that i have arrived at but done in different languages of love each time. because of all of you, i am living really well. i want to live well. i just want to tell you every time, that i am loving you with the best version of myself.

However else, i cannot hug each and every one of you and with that, my heart transcends with those feelings. no matter what appearance i may take, i wont ask for you to love me. but i will put in the effort that reflects all of the love I have received.

The last birthday inside my twenties is going smoothly simply like this. let us be healthy and happy for a long time, no matter what sky we’re under. Let's meet again after some time passes. sincerely wishing you an early, if not a belated, happy birthday to you as well! thank you.

— Namjoon

#ultkpopnetwork #mgroupsedit #idolsincedits #maleidolsedit #namjoon #kim namjoon #rm #bts #bangtan #w.weverse #0912

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igotanidea · 1 year

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Torn: Matt Murdock x f!reader

shitty day calls for angst. I had different character for this in my mind at the beginning, but this is how it turned out.

She was cold. Unbothered. Detached. Or so It seemed

During her life people were saying so many different things about her, seeing her from different angles, to the point where she wasn’t sure who she was anymore.

Sometimes the days were good, filled with work, things to do and cases to take care of. Those were the days where her negative thoughts and worries were kept at bay. Her colleagues were mentioning how nice it is to have her on the team, how communicative and professional she is. Yes, those were good moments.

On the other hands there were days where she was just completely alone, lost in her own mind, projecting stories and fears that weren’t real. Feeling judged, manipulated by her own family, scared and vulnerable, wishing to the point of breaking that someone, anyone would take notice of her as a human being. Not an employee or a leader of the team, but simply as a girl, a creature that existed beyond her duties. But there was no one. And at some point she started to believe that something was wrong with her. That there would never be anyone just for her. That she has no right to drag anyone into her messed up, broken, sad life.

And then, a real miracle happened.

During one of her work –filled Mondays, while she was switching between tasks and groups she bumped into a man, who soon turned out to be Matt Murdock. A fellow professional who was inspecting some case. The girl was so focused on her job that she simply did not see him, her cheeks flushed, her eyes glistening, with all her demons far away she was simply glowing and looking as beautiful as ever. And he saw that, immediately focusing his attention on the girl who he was now holding by the waist in the middle of the precinct.

“Um…. Can you let go of me?”

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m good” she moved away, fixing her jacket “sorry about that, a lot on my mind. There’s this case that I’m working on and….”

“Is this case by any chance concerning Mr. Crest?”

“Oh, so you are looking for him too?”

Due to some organizational changes YN was assigned to help Matt on the case as a courtesy. Soon she learned all about Daredevil and all the superhero stuff. Much to Matt’s relief she did not run away screaming. She might have been a bit depressed, but definitely not a chicken. And she stayed. Being there for him. She would jump into the fire for this stupid man, who was absolutely oblivious about her feelings. And it hurt like Hell. If it wasn’t for Foggy, who was quick to catch up on the situation due to his observant skills neither Matt not the girl would ever make a move. Luckily, since Foggy took action they soon became couple.

And it was good. For a while. Dark days were coming and it was harder and harder to keep up with Matt’s, or rather Daredevil’s adventures.

“Why are you keeping me in the dark, Matt?” she asked him one day while tending to his wounds “This is not fair.”

“Sweetheart, don’t start this again.”

“And why not? you’ve been lying to me. I just know that”

“I can’t quite tell you the truth. That would put you in danger.”

“I don’t care. Besides, whatever is coming I’d rather be ready.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Oh, don’t act like a child. I’m doing this to protect you.”

“Well, what if I don’t need to be protected.”

“You do. I’m sorry to say, but you don’t really have any badass fighting skills.”

“You’re right” she sighed, turning sad “I’m sorry I’m not the girl you want me to be.”

“YN….”

“No, Matt. It’s fine. I don’t feel like making this conversation longer than needed. Let’s just call it a day and get some rest before tomorrow.”

This was the first crack in their relationship and the first night when they fell asleep back to back. Even if Matt wanted to hold her against his chest, feel her steady breathing next to him, provide her with love, safety and security he could not force himself to do so. Morning was no better, since she was the first one to wake up and leave without notice.

Since that day she started training to become more badass and maybe, maybe get a peek into Matt’s other life, but he was still keeping her at bay, using the same words about safety.

“You know, for a lawyer, you are not very creative with arguments. It’s getting really repetitive.”

“Well then maybe you should stop asking me!” he burst “ this is always what sparks our fights!”

“I am?” her eyes widened in shock of Matt’s choice of words “that was a low blow.” She held the pain at bay, but it took a lot of energy not to show how hurt she was.

“YN….” Matt sighed in exasperation “this is not….”

“No, save it” she grabbed her backpack “this is exactly what you meant. And if that’s the case, maybe we just need some space from each other. You know my number, you can’t call me when you are ready to talk. Really, talk, and maybe you should check the definition of the word. Goodbye Matthew.”

And so she was gone, promising herself she would not get caught up in his shit again. But when he showed up in her apartment bruised, hurt and all bloody she helped him. And just his touch made her give in into him, melting and letting him love her like tomorrow did not exist. He knew all her soft spots, sensitive parts and while he was kissing and caressing every inch of her body she was overwhelmed with the feeling of wanting more of him, longing to have him closer and closer. This undivided attention towards her, the intimacy was something missing for so long.

She hated herself in the morning. She despised herself being so weak and naïve to believe anything would change. When she asked to go on the night patrol with him, the answer was the same as usual. But this time she was not going to give up so easily. She was now trained and skilled enough to disobey his wishes and follow him.

What she saw broke her heart.

He was not alone.

There was a woman with him. Asian one, dressed in black and red leather, fighting with daggers and showing some mortal-combat abilities. Girl’s heart dropped when she noticed how well her Matt and the woman were working together. Why was she letting anyone else into this part of his life? How long has this been going on? And why the Hell was she feeling so betrayed at the moment. Her absent-mindedness at the sight of them hugging and standing too close for her comfort almost got her killed since one of the assassins noticed her in the shadows and came right at her. There was no time to think and her well-trained instincts kicked right in as she tackled the guy and brought him down unconscious, capturing the attention of the two people she was following.

“And who may you be?” the woman asked, ready to fight her

“YN?” Matt took a step closer, fully aware of the fastened heart of his girlfriend and everything she just saw

“Matt….” She whispered sadly eying him and his companion.

“Oh, so you two know each other.” The Asian mocked “how wonderful. I don’t think we met before, but there is a lot to improve in your fighting, little one.”

“Little one….” She repeated. The condescending tone did nothing to her confidence, but she quickly put herself back together “How could you, Matt?” she turned around and rushed towards her house, agitated and hurt.

“Drama queen, Matthew?” Electra asked playing with her sword “how did you even end up with her in the first place?”

Matt however was not listening. Listening to his girl footsteps on the ground and her heavy breath making sure she got home safe in her state. Only then he turned towards Electra.

“ I love her. You hear me? And you better do not interfere with that.”

“Of course not, Matthew. She will bore you in no time. I’m sure of that and ……” she took a sharp breath as one of the allegedly beaten bad guys stung a spear though her stomach.

“Electra!” Matt yelled.

And then everything just happened so fast. Stick showed up out of nowhere saving their asses and getting everyone to Matt’s apartment to tend to injured woman. Matt was now torn between panic for Electra and hurt and urge to mend bridges with YN. He could not choose so life decided to do it for him. When they arrived at his place, YN was already there, apparently collecting her stuff. She only had to see Daredevil holding the other girl in a tender way, close to his chest, lips on her forehead to walk past by him, backpack full of the memories, leaving the hell out.

“YN!” Matt yelled after her but she did not turn around “Stick, take care of Electra, I’ll be right back, all right? YN!” Still in his Daredevil suit he run the steps chasing the girl, grabbing her wrist before she got out of the tenement house and pulling her into the dark hallway.

“Let go off me, you idiot!” her words only made him hold her tighter “I’m not joking.”

“You learned capoeira?” he asked

“Really that is the first question that came into your mind?” she stilled

“It made you calm down.” He smirked

“Don’t you dare playing with me!”

“YN…. There is nothing, nothing going on between me and Electra to make you so angry. Please, calm down. “

“So that’s her name, huh. Pretty badass, isn’t it? So much your style girl.” YN mocked

“It’s a long gone history.”

“Sadly, I know, Matt. I know. “

“What are you talking about?”

“I know who she is. I did my research.”

“YN….” Now Matt’s tone was more warning.

“No. I’m done here. I know you have been meeting with her in secret. I know you have some business with her you never cared to mention. I saw you two hugging and the way you cared about her during that fight.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. We just got each other back to avoid getting killed.”

“I get that part. But why did you lied to me? Why did I have to ask Foggy what was happening to you, since you don’t talk to me anymore”

“I already told you….”

“Stop shit-talking me, Matt!” she was now so angry it gave her additional power to get free of his embrace ”this was never about keeping me safe. All I got from you was lies. About Daredevil, about Electra, about feelings you have for Karen….” Her voice slightly broke “And I know about Claire too.”

“How?” he growled

“Oh, so that’s what matter to you now. I loved you, you idiot! I was there for you, all the time. Fighting my dark thought, my insecurities, putting all the effort into it. And you…..” she shook her head “a martyr. A hero who could never be honest. I’m done. We are done. I’ve never felt more used in my entire life.”

“Hey, don’t rush into things, please. Let’s just get back home and talk about it, can we?”

“So you can feed me with more distorted truths? No. We are done” she spoke coldly again.

“And who’s a liar now. I can tell that is not what you mean, honey.” He grabbed her waist again.

“I’m not joking Matthew, let go of me”

“I can’t “

“Why not? Give me one good reason why should I stay. Just one.” The silent that feel between them felt like eternity “exactly, you don’t have it.

“I….” he started but a sudden voice coming from above captured his attention and she knew what was it. Electra was in pain. Electra needed him. And he was about to give in and run toward the other woman.

“Go. If you are not able to make the choice I will do it for you. Consider yourself a free man now. And don’t you ever, ever come near me. “

Matthew felt like all strength left him. He made a mistake, a lot of mistakes and he lost her. Both of them were now broken and hurting, fully aware that this could not be repaired. But what was even worse for Matt was that despite his best efforts to keep Daredevil part of his life away from YN he failed at that. Those assassins saw her and knew who she was. By now they probably learned how important she was to him and there wasn’t any chance they would not use that knowledge. He should have stayed away from the beginning, but learned nothing from his past mistakes. Falling in love was out of his reach and he should have remembered that before he dragged her into his mess of a life. He still loved her. She hated him and wanted him nowhere close. And she was in terrible, terrible danger, absolutely unaware of it.

@somest1

@pinksirensong

#matt murdock #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #matt murdock x y/n #daredevil netflix #daredevil x y/n #daredevil #daredevil x you #matt murdock imagine #daredevil imagine #matt murdock one shot #daredevil one shot #mcu #marvel mcu #marvel cinematic universe #marvel imagines #marvel imagine #marvel one shot

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groovygladiatorsheep · 3 months

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Ohhhhhhhhh really like your humanizations of Ink and Error!! Do you have any headcanons about their etchnicity? Or headcanons in general

Thank you so much !!! As for Headcanons, I’ve had some in the past but they changed a bit with time.. hcs for these humanized twos on my side currently are - French-Filipino for Ink and Afro-American for Error !! I hope this is what you meant 😭

As for general Headcanons ? I do !!

What I like to imagine is how the whole multiverse works and functions together.

Ink is the protector of aus, I imagine his reputations wildly varies from aus to multiverses, especially after the whole utmv event reputation. In my head, joining the star Sanses was a way to continue to do his job while staying on the good guys sides, you know ?

I see Ink as genuinely a guy doing his best. He needs the creators creations to be alive and to thrive to exist. Upsetting the creators by not letting them do angst ?? No sir. In his head, he’s simply letting characters be characters. He’s aware of the situation he’s in, of the string he’s holding onto ( the emotions and life given to him by the creators. It always comes back to them. )

He shouldn’t have been able to survive ripping his soul apart. He’s a miracle in himself ! But does he sees himself as that ?

Ink being unable to power through life without his vials means so much to me. They’re like the only thing allowing him to exist in his world, without them he’s physically not there. He needs them, and guess what Joku’s Dream ( because fanon Dream is much different ) thought of that ? That Ink is faking his emotions and he’s obviously evil if he can’t feel a thing.

How DAREEEm !!!! It’s so much more than that !!!! Ink’s vials allows him to feel the way he CANT feel, they allows him to show what he would WANT you to show !!!! He’s trying !!!!

Basically, Ink’s vials are a way for him to be able to fuel himself, a side important effect is that the difference flavours allows him to reflects emotions he could have had. Despite that, he still sucks at stuff that requires understanding social cues..

The flavours/different emotions can be hard to get since they come from how the creations were created. With tears ? Happiness ? Anger ? Envy ? That’s where he gets them. I’d imagine he learned to mix them when he needs one in particular !

I’d also imagine his memory makes him lose space and times. My bad memories does !! If he doesn’t have something in mind ? It doesn’t exist, nah. That’s why he notes stuff on the scarf because at least he knows he wears it all the time.

I really love the hc Ink has synesthesia, go check out @sunnemona for deepening information of that hc actually

As for Error !!!!

Error has always been the guy I’ve drawn more than thought about, but I do have so much thoughts on him too.

I see Error as an anomaly. Ink is a miracle ? Error was a mistake. He was not an happy accident held by strings, he’s a mistake that holds itself together by said strings.

His role in the multiverse is pretty interesting !!! He’s that menace everyone except the big guys fears. He destroys aus amongst aus, citizens of the multiverse have rarely seen his face except before their death, he’s a menace, not a balance, not a secret saviour, a machine that had a goal and keeps doing it without even understanding what he’s doing it.

I see it as this : Error goal and motivation , like other errors, was formed the day of his death and birth, the time right before Geno got errorified.

“Why didn’t I get an happy ending ?”

Feelings of hatred turned into a misinterpretation of the people surrounding his lost white space, and there it was : “everyone is a glitch !! They should all die !!!!!”

Aside from that, I Headcanon him to have a nest, a bit like spiders. His souls are his victims stuck on the web, and the strings surrounds his entire little home. Sofa for comfort, etc etc.

He’s very similar to spiders, actually.

#ask #anon #they means so much to me #btw yes I went on a ramble.#ramble #utmv #ink sans #error sans

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rphelperblog · 1 year

Text

Amie Kaufman Quotes Rp Meme : Part One

“You have me. Until the last star in the galaxy dies, you have me.”

“I am frequently underestimated. I think it's because I'm short.”

“She is catalyst. She is chaos. I can see why he loves her.”

“Letting yourself get hurt isn’t brave, love. Brave is protecting others from hurt.”

“There are monsters among us, it’s true. But there are heroes too.”

“Whatever they've done to me, whatever I am--I love you. Don't forget that.”

“Love, and trust. The things that make us human. They could have been mine, if only I could have leapt. If only we could have leapt.”

“ ‘Right’ is whatever the people who’re standing at the end say it is. ‘Right’ is decided by the people who win.

“Things always look darkest in the middle of the night.”

“You deserve every star in the galaxy laid out at your feet and a thousand diamonds in your hair. You deserve someone who'll run with you as far and as fast as you want to. Holding your hand, not holding you back. You deserve more than I could ever give you.But I'll give you everything I can if you still want me to.”

“Do moons choose the planets they orbit? Do planets choose their stars? Who am I to deny gravity? When you shine brighter than an constellation in the sky?”

“But she's here, she's mine. I'm hers.”

“Perhaps bravery is simply the face humanity wraps around its collective madness.”

“It’s not about what I say, right? It’s what I do that matters here.”

“And now, born from the ashes, she’s a warrior in bloodied black.”

“Every story needs its hero. And its villain. And its monster.”

“Live a life worth dying for.”

“You don’t understand the unbearable beauty of being you.”

“Miracles are statistical improbabilities. And fate is an illusion humanity uses to comfort itself in the dark. There are no absolutes in life, save death.”

“Numbers do not feel. Do not bleed or weep or hope. They do not know bravery or sacrifice. Love and allegiance. At the very apex of callousness, you will find only ones and zeros.”

"There'a billion different versions of you out there, in a trillion different universes. And I still can't get over how lucky I am that, out of all those versions, you're the one that's mine.”

“Patience and Silence had one beautiful daughter. And her name was Vengeance.”

“You don't mention death when it's hovering near someone you love. You don't want to attract the reaper's attention.”

“The more you lose, the more you realize you don't have much left.”

“I should have told you I loved you every day. I should have given you the stars.”

Why not believe? If in faith you risk nothing, but through faithlessness, you risk everything?”

“I am not feeling nothing.”

“May we meet again on distant shores.”

“The universe was here before you, and it will go on after you. The only way it will remember you is if you do something worthy of remembrance.”

“But who names a starship the Icarus? What kind of man possess that much hubris, that he dares it to fall?”

“The universe owes you nothing...It has already given you everything, after all. It was here long before you, and it will go on long after you. The only way it will remember you is if you do something worthy of remembrance.”

“The mere sight of her is water in an endless desert.”

“And there it is, against all hope, like the sun peeking out from behind the clouds. The smallest hint of a smile.”

“Part of being alive is having life change us. The people around us, the events we live through, all of them shape us. And that's what I think you're afraid of. Maybe not of dying. But of this you, the you you've become, ceasing to exist.”

“Some people, when they lose it, they scream, they fight. I hope that would be me”

“You are the fire I long to burn inside,"

“If I breathed, I would sigh. I would scream. I would cry.”

“It may comfort you to know that your death, while astonishingly violent, will likely be mercifully swift.”

“There is no love in violence”

“I think I'd like to be unconscious again, please.”

“And blood and tears and screams did not matter anymore, because at least they are together.”

“..Look out at the nothing and feel it looking back. Then you know exactly how much you add up to.”

“She runs. Not away, but toward.”

“Tomorrow is worth a million yesterdays.”

“Sure, the story kicks off with the deaths of thousands of people, but god forbid there be cussing in it, right?”

“We have failed, but I hope they will see how hard we tried.”

“The sound of her name is like music.”

“The die is cast. But today we will shake the table upon which it lands.”

“Most people would say I’m pretty cold, but I think of it more as…private. People are always saying “how are you?” to each other, and I guess I don’t see why I should answer such a personal question for just anyone.”

“I am not good. Nor am I evil. I am no hero. Nor am I villain.“

“I had no idea how safe I was, because I’d never been unsafe.”

“What you do when stuff like this happens is you LIVE, you survive it, that's how you honour the ones you lost.”

“Everyone's right, and everyone's wrong.”

“It is entirely possible to be alone in a crowded room. Your solitude only compounded by the faces around you. The presence of others serving only to remind you of how lonely you truly are.”

“I know a thousand different smiles, each with its own nuanced shade of meaning, but I don't know how to reach the few feet away to touch this person next to me. I don't know how to talk to him. Not when it's real.”

“Who wants to be normal when you can be interesting instead?”

“Then she smiles, and it turns out she has dimples, and it's all over.”

“When the light that kisses the back of her eyes were birthed, her ancestors were not yet born. How many human lives have ended in the time it took that light to reach her?How many people have loved only to have lost? How countless, the hopes that have died?But not this one.”

“How do you live again, knowing what waits for you in the end?”

“This tiny moment. In between the time you decide to pull a trigger and the time death arrives. There's just you and it and everything you're about to take away. It's too big. It goes forever.”

“I will see you in the stars.”

“When we allow ourselves to explore, we discover destinations that were never on our map.”

“What do you know of souls and hearts and how they break here? You don't know me at all.”

“Is your request not to punch you still in effect, sir?”

“Just because you're not saying it doesn't mean you're not thinking it.”

'You're the same girl who crashed on this planet with me, who I dragged through forests and over mountains, who climbed through a shipwreck full of bodies to save my life. You're the same girl I loved, and I love you now.”

“You're the most important thing in this universe. You; this vessel; the people of this planet; lovers, warriors, artists, leaders, dreams more numerous than stars. Each mind unique, each thought created for an instant and then broken apart to form new ones. You don't understand the unbearable beauty of being you.”

“You humans fascinate me. I am shattered fragments of what I once once. But even with all the King's horses and all the King's men, I wonder if even I could truly comprehend you.”

“I'm not going to sit here and spitball about hyperspatial reality theory with a psychopathic calculator. This conversation is over.”

“There is something in humanity more suited to the mechanics of murder than any machine yet devised.”

“There are no stars, because there are never any stars here, only a thick darkness that rushes down her throat and into her heart. She dreams of drowning.”

“He would lose every game. And he still insisted on playing. I wondered at the futility of it. If it is the definition of insanity to repeat the same process and expect a different outcome, most of humanity must be insane.”

“But free will is what it means to be human, and no one can determine the path you take through this universe. Choice is our greatest right, our greatest gift-and our greatest responsibility.”

“Abandon her? If only my duty or my conscience would let me. The galaxy would be better off, if you ask me. Who’d even know we were in the same pod? Except that I would know. And that would be enough.”

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