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mamichigo · 1 year

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⚠️(blood and injury)

The impact to his head must have been greater than he thought, if Cyno's first instinct after this disaster of a mission was to jump through one of the open windows to Alhaitham's house. There was a trail of blood where he had crawled towards the door, before collapsing on his numb legs. The room was empty; there were no signs of Alhaitham--or even Kaveh, he realized belatedly, almost forgetting the two were roommates. As Cyno laid there counting his breaths, he wondered why he was here. It was foolish.

He'd die pathetically at the Grand Scribe's office for something as nebulous as "instinct."

Still... Cyno clenched his jaw. If it was Alhaitham, he'd surely help--that's what he had thought. He tried to laugh, but couldn't. When exactly had his suspicions turned into blind faith? How silly. Alhaitham wasn't here. Cyno needed to get up and get actual help (preferably from a trained professional).

He wasn't here. Cyno closed his eyes.

"Alhaitham..."

It was barely a whisper. It couldn't possibly get anyone's attention. And yet, after a few long seconds, the door creaked open. Light poured into the room; through squinted eyes, Cyno saw a familiar silhouette.

For a moment, nothing happened.

He might have briefly blacked out, as the next time he opened his eyes, Alhaitham was crowding into his space. Something wet was pressed firmly to his brow, where blood had been gushing out into his left eye.

"Alhaitham?" He called out.

If he didn't say his name, Cyno couldn't be sure this was real. There was hazy quality to all of his senses, colors and light blurring with only the muted, gray tone of Alhaitham's hair to ground him.

"Why do you sound surprised?" He shot back. "You're in my house."

With that, Alhaitham got back to work, quickly bandaging whatever needed to be mended. "You're quite lucky none of your wounds were deep, otherwise you would've bled to death all over my office floor."

Cyno couldn't tell what Alhaitham was thinking. There was no particular inflection to his voice, no flicker in his expression. Perhaps he had overstayed his welcome, Cyno thought with sudden clarity.

It was hard to say where they stood with each other lately. They worked well together, even if Alhaitham did get on his nerves. But were they friends? Colleagues? Barely that? Cyno stared down at the neat row of bandages on his right arm, and decided Alhaitham had done more than enough for him.

"Thank you for helping me," he muttered, the words clumsy on his tongue. It was hard to speak, still. "If I-- You don't need to--"

Cyno pressed his lips into a thin line and wondered what he wanted to say. Ultimately he went with nothing at all. Instead, he supported himself on his wobbling arms and tried to force his legs to listen to his commands.

"What are you doing?"

Cyno snapped his head up, startled, and immediately regretted it. The world spun around him, his vision went white. Then, Alhaitham was by his side again. He pressed a warm, wide palm to Cyno's eyes, shielding him from the light. The hand on his back soothed the bout of nausea before Cyno even realized how close he had been to throwing up.

“You don’t need to go running off as soon as you open your eyes, you're still concussed,” Alhaitham huffed. “I’m not going to take advantage of you now that you're weak, if that's what you're afraid of.”

Cyno blinked behind Alhaitham's palm. It wasn't a lack of emotion he was hearing in his voice, it was the same tone Alhaitham had back in Aaru village: quietly bitter. Cyno pulled Alhaitham's hand away, but kept his fingers on his wrist. He looked into Alhaitham's eyes, a somber green in the dark, like the ocean during a storm.

"Are you angry?" He asked, for lack of anything better to say.

Alhaitham chuckled, if the little puff of breath could be called that. There was no actual amusement in it.

"Did you think I'm so uncaring I'd feel nothing over seeing you bleeding and unconscious on my office floor?"

All of a sudden, Cyno felt like he could finally think through the fog clouding his mind. He became all the more aware of the wrist in his palm.

"You're shaking," he noted, awe coloring his voice. "Your pulse, too. It's racing."

"Signs of an adrenaline spike, yes."

A fight or flight response, a defense mechanism--because he had found Cyno injured. It was his morbid curiosity that compelled him to ask, "Do you care about me?"

"Yes," Alhaitham answered without pause, "more than you know."

Cyno nodded to himself and exhaled. The ache of his injuries was distant, now. His muscles unwound, and Cyno fell forward unrestricted--into Alhaitham's tense arms.

"I knew you'd help me," Cyno whispered into the dip of his collarbones. "I knew."

Alhaitham hummed in understanding, and Cyno pressed closer to feel the vibration of it.

"I think I get it now," Cyno continued, consciousness starting to slip away from him. "I get it."

"Get what?"

"Why I fell for you."

Alhaitham's hand was warm on the back of his neck. The world grew dark.

Cyno thought he felt a kiss being pressed to his head, and hoped that, too, was as real as the murmur of Alhaitham's voice against his ear.

"As for me, I've understood why a long time ago."

Cyno slept.

#alhaitham #cyno #cytham #haino #genshin impact #drabbles #my writing

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misc-obeyme · 4 months

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NO i had a whole ask written up about how inside out by eve 6 reminds me of simeon but then the app crashed 😩 its 2 am im not writing it all up again but give it a listen especially the first half of the chorus with simeon and his conflict in identity and relationship w the celestial realm in mind its just tragic my poor angel

also 10/10 recommend the following songs: rockstar sea shanty by the lottery winners, dragostea din tei (numa numa) metal cover by feuerschwanz, take one me bardcore cover by joseph c phaze

i really like silly cover songs

-🥐

Ah, yes, you see I am quite old, so I was alive and listening to the radio when Inside Out by Eve 6 was hugely popular. That really brings me back, I gotta say. Who even listens to the radio anymore? Anyway, at the time, the radio was all I had, so I listened to it kind of obsessively. And you just had to listen to whatever they played because you didn't get a say. And thus, I have memorized that particular song so well that the minute I saw your ask I bust out singing it and scared the hell out of my cat lol.

Anyway, now that I've exposed my age, let's move on!

I'm sorry you lost the bulk of your ask! That sounds awful :( But I quite agree that the first half of the chorus could indeed apply to our angel. I find Simeon in general to be one of the more tragic OM characters. And with lines like "I would swallow my pride, I would choke on the rinds and the lack thereof would leave me empty inside. I would swallow my doubt, turn it inside out, find nothing but faith in nothing..." well I should say that sounds like him, huh?

Reading that through a Simeon lens makes me go OH NO. (Also yes I wrote the lyrics from memory so don't come for me if I got them wrong lol.) I especially think the concept of swallowing his pride is interesting because it's like by doing that he's also trying to suppress the very essence of Lucifer. Like Simeon had a time when he was fighting to forget every part of the brother he once knew because it hurts too much to think about Lucifer falling.

And then when he shows up in the Devildom, he kinda has to do it again because what pride could he possibly have left at that point? He was the one who stayed out of it. He didn't stand on either side. Having no conviction in that sense could certainly leave him empty and then after that, he's struggling with his faith and the doubt that's been planted and...!

I never thought I could get so in my feelings about an anime angel because of a late 90s alt rock song lol.

Also thank you for the music recs!! I am also a HUGE fan of genre changing cover songs... I've really gone down the heavy metal cover rabbit hole, but I haven't heard the Dragostea Din Tei one! I also just love sea shanties so I'm sure that will be fun for me! Also bardcore?! Sign me right up for that lol! I'm excited to listen to them!

#anyway it's fine it's all fine it's not like I'm having emotions about him nope #poor Simeon he has it so rough #obey me #obey me simeon #🥐 anon #misc answers

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the-lions-archive · 1 year

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Forced contract

Cassandra, an aspiring businesswoman, is sitting on her therapist’s sofa waiting for her therapist. “Hopefully, I can figure something out about these weird dreams with Mr. Alexander.” Mr. Alexander enters his office and sees Cassandra. “Oh, Ms. Cassandra. Are you here for our scheduled appointment?” Cassandra looks at Mr. Alexander and nods. “Yes, Mr. Alexander.” Mr.Alexander sits on his chair with a pen and a notepad in hand. “What will we talk about today, Ms. Cassandra?” Cassandra adjusts her sitting position and looks at Mr. Alexander. “I have been getting these strange vague dreams for around a week, and I don’t know why.” Mr. Alexander raises a brow as he writes what Cassandra says “And by strange, What do you mean to be exact?” Cassandra looks at her hands and thinks for a bit. “It felt like I was a passenger in someone else's body” Mr. Alexander stops writing and looks at Cassandra. “Maybe you were astral projecting in your sleep.” He gets up from his chair, walks to one of his bookshelves, and takes an empty journal. “It might be better to write your dreams down in a journal or a notebook.” He walks to Cassandra and gives the journal to her. “You can use one of my extra journals to write your dreams.” Cassandra takes the journal and stares at it. “Thanks, Mr. Alexander.” Mr. Alexander smiles. “No problem, Ms. Cassandra. Is there anything else that you want to talk about?” Cassandra shakes her head. “No, there is nothing else.” Mr. Alexander looks at his watch. “Same time next week?” Cassandra stands and nods. “Same time next week.” She shakes her therapist’s hand before leaving his office and heading home.

After some time, Cassandra hangs her keys after closing her apartment door behind her. She puts Mr. Alexander’s journal on the coffee table in her living room before taking a bath. As Cassandra was in the bathroom someone or something was watching her. “She is a fine one~~.” the entity has a feminine tone with a smile on its face. “She almost looks like me too with some lacking assets." The entity chuckles to itself before walking around Cassandra’s apartment “She has a lovely apartment as well.” They stand in front of a mirror revealing themselves to be a horned female with a tail, red skin, jet black hair, short black horns, and amber eyes in a revealing skimpy outfit and stockings. “She will be a suitable host for me. Luckily, she isn’t much of a religious woman. Unlike the others.” She sits on the sofa, crosses her legs, and waits for Cassandra.

Cassandra comes out of the bathroom after taking a relaxing bath with her bathrobe loosely tied around her and a bit of her cleavage is showing. “Ahh~~ That bath hit the spot.” She dries her hair with a towel when she feels a chill down her spine “Did I turn the AC on when I got home?" She puts the towel on her shoulder, looks towards the living room, and sees the demon woman. She stumbles back and grabs the wooden cross from her wall. “Who are you and what are you doing in my house?” The demon woman chuckles and slowly walks toward Cassandra “My name is Lara and I’m here to make a contract with you, little one.” Cassandra closes her robe with one hand while the other hand holds the cross and backs away from Lara. “How did you get into my house?” Lara puts her hands on her hips and looks at Cassandra. “How? Through the front door, of course.” She snaps her fingers and summons tendrils that grab Cassandra by her arms and legs. “And as to why I’m not affected by your crosses. It’s because your faith is weak. Anyway, I will cut to the chase and make you sign your soul to me.” Cassandra struggles to free herself but the tendrils tighten their grip on her. “Even if my faith is weak, I won’t make a deal with you or any of your kind.” Lara grins and walks to Cassandra. “Oh really? I hate to break it to you, sweetie. But you don’t have a choice in that matter.” Before she could say anything, Cassandra felt something penetrate her chest and looked down to see Lara’s arm as she passed out.

A few days have passed, Cassandra groans, as she wakes up and holds her head “Ah my head.” She slowly gets up and looks at the windows. “Oh, it’s morning, I should get ready for work.” She walks to her room and notices some red stains on her robe along with a scar in the middle of her chest. “When did I get this scar?” She touches the scar for a bit. “Hmm, I wonder what made it.” She goes to her closet and gets ready for work. “I will worry about it later.” Lara looks at Cassandra with amusement and appears in front of her “You woke up early, little one.” Cassandra jumps back and looks at Lara. “What are you doing here, demon.” Lara crosses her arms and floats in front of Cassandra. "That's not a way to say hi to your roommate." Cassandra raises a brow with confusion written on her face. "What do you mean-" She remembers what happened a few days ago. "Wait, you killed me!!!" Lara smiles. "Bingo. I murdered you and used your blood to forge a contract between us." She enjoys seeing Cassandra panic for a bit "Now, now. Luckily for you, you are the only one who can see me. Now that we share the same body." Cassandra shoots a look at Lara. "What? You possessed my body!!" Lara boops Cassandra. "To be accurate, our souls are now one." She looks at the clock and sees that Cassandra is running late for her work. "We should get going, you don't want to be late for work." Cassandra looks at her watch. "Damn it. I will deal with you later." She does some quick makeup and heads to work with Lara tagging along for a lack of a better term.

Lara observes how Cassandra acts around her male co-workers and notices that Cassandra is interested in a particular male co-worker. “Interesting~” Cassandra shoots a quick look at Lara and continues chatting with her co-worker. Lara smirks and snaps her fingers switching with Cassandra, and only changing her eye color from blue to amber. Cassandra looks around her and sees her hands are ghostly in appearance. “What the hell!?!?!” She looks at Lara who’s in her body, flirting with the co-worker she likes. “Hey, demon. What did you do to me?” Lara ignores Cassandra for a bit and holds the co-worker’s hand. “Can you excuse me, darling? I need to go to the restroom.” The co-worker is caught off guard by what he assumed to be Cassandra and fumbles on his words. “S-S-Sure.” Lara winks at him and walks to the restroom while swaying her hips with each step.

Cassandra looks at her crush and sees him checking her or the demon in her body before following Lara. “First of all, what the fuck did you do, and second, are you trying to seduce my co-worker?” Lara waits until the female workers are out and changes Cassandra’s red lipstick with a black. With the last female worker leaving the restroom, Lara looks at Cassandra. “To answer your first question, I switched our places. And to answer your second question, yes, I’m seducing him. I am a succubus after all. It's my job to seduce men besides he’s cute.” She looks at the mirror and adjusts her hair. “And don’t worry, he won’t be harmed, yet.” Confusion written on her face, Cassandra floats beside Lara. “What do you mean by that?” Lara gives Cassandra a side look. “You will be the one going out with him.” She walks out of the restroom and gives Cassandra’s crush a blown kiss before heading to Cassandra’s office and switches with the blushing Cassandra.

--------------------

Cassandra and Lara belong to @lionwriters-blog and @lionwriters-ocs (both are me)

#literature #original characters #Cassandra and Lara #backstory #writblr #writers on tumblr

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popthievesmuse · 16 days

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It’s been a min.

Things have been soo off.

Off balance would be an understatement.

A bridge would have been useful at some points.

A real point of no return is where I want to leave those feelings.

Feelings of emptiness because of the world’s lack of soul.

Souls being unalived; the youngest of souls pemarturely and deliberately.

Is this all deliberate? How can such evil exist? Is the world okay? How is this happening? Over and over again!

Again. I am so angry, upset, hopeless, heartbroken all the time.

Time is passing without change. Yet some have the energy to stare with their emptiness. How can people think about such matters when there isn’t liberation for all.

God, please what is all this?! Why is history repeating itself.

I am questioning everything. Losing my balance.

I am so scared to lose my faith.

In tears, sorry I have to sign out.

Praying for all ❤️

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carouselsandhamsterwheels · 4 months

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Direct talk is hard for me. I want to be a little vague for safety sake. It gives me a way out, so I can’t be backed into a corner. I didn’t speak for years, cuz there was no point—I let people believe what they wanted with a smile.

I don’t like asking for anything. I am used to having my needs invalidated. Or more accurately weaponized. My needs should not be used to control my behaviour. I am very independent & sometimes my pride is hard to swallow. I don’t like this chapter of life as a single mom—I have been so humbled by how little extra there is in almost every area of life.

I have a hard time speaking about feelings, because I have been made to feel like I am not smart or trustworthy. And that I’m too emotional. Therefore how could I possibly trust anything that I have individually generated on my own?! When I speak of things that are deeply important to me, or I didn’t practice saying—my eyes might leak. I am learning to feel for the first time in some spaces of my life.

Because I can see how I have a part to play in how I act in these 3 spaces…where I struggle most—I didn’t create any standard for how I would let people enter or exit my life. I have met beautiful people who give me better then I deserve. I also met bullies & perpetrators who will take every single thing they can get.

So 2024 I made a commitment to the word “choices.” I started to make difficult decisions about how I am willing to live going forward. The kind of relationships I will show up to. The ways that I will use any finances that come into my life. I am working through my faith & what I can support. I am deciding how I’m willing to use my time, my home, & my body.

I want a long term relationship with someone that is being built on the same principles that I would build a marriage or life with someone. I want to have space to ask every hard question. I want to understand the backstory, the wounding, & the character of someone.

Imperfections are not an excuse to judge, but a space to delve deeper & extend compassion. I need freedom to be all of me, so there is safety for them to be everything they were made to be. I choose all of someone or none of someone…humans are not supposed to be loved in parts & pieces.

I am drawn to a growth mindset. A fundamental belief in God, health, & good energy. I want to pull in the same direction, if I ever decide to yoke up with someone as a partner. I want a love story. More importantly—I want a life story where we choose each other every single day, until we can’t.

You didn’t sign up for any of this. You met an emotionally broken, overweight, & questioning human. You watched me explore, find myself, & I know I hurt you in the process. I tried to be truthful, but I also lacked integrity once in a while. I was not able to see you in any capacity, cuz I didn’t even want to acknowledge myself—I was avoiding a lot.

I have said words that didn’t have any weight to them. They were empty, & they were sometimes misleading—never intentionally. I have now discovered the source of my conviction. I kept growing and I kept talking, and sometimes I was shocked at what I could think. I heard a great podcast the other day, which destroyed me this week—it addressed addictions. They said addictions exist in any space where we don’t tell 100% of the truth & it’s because we want to find a 3rd door. Sobriety begins with the truth telling. I believe sobriety begins with hope that something better can exist then this vicious circle.

I want to sit with you for months to try to explain all of this…I am lucky to get minutes or hours. Which is why I decided to type one last attempt to explain how much things have changed in my life over the last year. It’s the biggest pivot of my life—you are caught in it, and I don’t know how to let you know, choose, & then live with that choice forever.

If this is met with complete silence, I will not push to see you any more times. I will get my answer. I won’t chase anymore what isn’t meant for me, or what doesn’t want to be chased. I want partnership. Not to mentor, mother, or feel like a stalker to a man to prove I have worth. If they don’t see it—I won’t try to prove it.

If you want to talk more, understand, or explore the meanings of this—I will commit to trying to break down walls, see you in your truths, & be supportive in any ways I can find capacity. I will try to communicate more clearly, I will choose concentrated loyalty, & I will always cheer for anyone that is honest enough to show up as nothing more or less then themselves.

I have deep feelings, but I never asked if you’re on board with me expressing them.

I want to know you, but I have still not gotten a response that says you are willing to be seen & understood.

I want to chase forever, but I am still very uncertain if you’re fully available. So every time you ask me what I need—I want to say “you”, but instead I say nothing.

I know casually fucking is not the same investment level as anything I hint at wanting.

We might both want marriage, kids, and forever, even if it never ends up being with each other. I know this & accept it. Nothing comes with guarantees. I promise that when you know—I’ll listen peacefully. I promise when I know, I’ll be totally honest.

I need to get more intentional before my soul breaks in this crazy dating world. I will always hold space for gratitude for the gifts you’ve given me. Thank you for everything.

I needed you so badly last week, but I couldn’t find you—I started to crumble. I felt through it all, and know everything I want to tell you—the truest words I have ever spoken. They are making me feel like I can’t breathe, but I don’t know when I’ll find you again to speak them. The fear of how they’ll land in your mind & heart still makes the little girl in me want to run away.

I don’t want to keep running. I have made some decisions with the “choices” that I can see before me.

I had that dream that I think has given me some clarity.

I experienced deep betrayal that I need to better explain in real life, for you to understand my January.

I have sat like a fly in the spaces where I have learned, unlearned, & felt it all.

I am humbled.

You have to know how sorry I am. Before you think you didn’t make me happy or that your effort wasn’t enough. I need to clarify if our choices of words mean the same thing. If we understand what the other person means.

My working memory isn’t good enough to imagine how love feels, what healthy looks like, or what God could give to me as a future. But I’m out of my head, into my heart, & I am as honest and loving, as I know to be.

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beefcakenpinkyring · 7 months

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Thoughts are getting heavy again so I need to unload.

I took a ride on the elevator today, with mom and lil bro. The cubicle went dark, quiet when we thought we pressed the button but didn't. I clicked again, saved us. Mom still let a sound out. It clanged, shook and wiggled all the way up ; coughed twice before letting us out. My heart sunk down to my stomach on a lift of its own.

I know better than to avoid my triggers, so yeah I went down the stairs to get the papers mom forgot, but on the way up, I took the elevator. Alone this time.

I clicked right, this time firm enough, tongue busy calling to God the Almighty. It clanged, shook and wiggled all the way to the top ; jerked twice before spitting me out.

My back muscles probably did not unclench since then, about six hours ago. Or maybe they were tight since yesterday, when sleep was a dream. Or maybe since the day before, when reality seemed warped, striped, marred. Or maybe my back muscles were made to clench, relentless, unrelenting, trying to keep upright a curving bad, caving in.

Sometimes, time stops, and all that exists is sound.

I listen in.

Unmoving, unbreathing, unliving.

Time stops, my body too, my heart almost.

Everything disappears and all is left is shells, threatening in their weight, frieghtening in their emptiness.

The night is what I fear most.

The night when my brain is left to fend off for itself. Where I am alone, maybe the only one still breathing on purpose.

Every night I feel like the sole visitor of a silent grave ; one guilty survivor in the aftermath of a mass murder.

I suppose that fear alone wouldn't have fucked me up as much. If it weren't for the lonely fog, the dooming guilt, the mute helplessness, the overwhelming weakness, I wouldn't have been as deeply disturbed.

It feels impossible to ignore the fear. It holds signs screaming "I told you so" everytime wind blows too hard, honks sound too loud or elevators struggle too much.

Fear promises a time where you will be surprised, fatally so. And since life is as volatile as the breeze, fear never breaks a promise. And in the meantime, my guards are permenantly up. Danger is always around the corner, and worrying enough to never be unprepared is the only way to survive.

Sometimes, it tires me. It exhausts me to no end.

I circle back to the guilt and hate myself for being a slave to what I cannot bring myself to change. I lack the discipline to be who I want to have been when breathing becomes a conscious effort and sleep becomes a remote goal.

Listing triggers, planning prep, strategizing, expressing, unlearning and relearning. Shit I wish wasn't as cold and hard and flavorless as solid med pills.

I am grateful for every ounce of help I've gotten regardless, and I will keep praying.

My God, please assist me in regaining trust in my body. My God, please make me a better believer, and a better practicer. My God, please give me the faith I need to put my weights down, and live. Live righteously, moderately with just enough contentment to unclench my muscles. My God, forgive me. For if at many times, I have escaped sin, the thought of it never leaves me. For if many times, I have been repulsed enough to stay away, my God I still hate me. My God, I have never liked to cry of pain and yet I have always believed it is the only valid reason to cry. My God, I believe in you, and I know my tears are only of frustration and exhaustion, but my God, I wish I knew how to live and die without overfeeling every moment. My God. My God, who has created my heart, my mind, my soul. Who has the Earth, the sky, the soil. My God, who makes ground shake, waves break and tornadoes swirl. My God, the Almighty, the Creator, the One, the Only. My God please accept my thousandth apology. Please give me the strength to keep my word this time. Please forgive me, God, for I have to, I need to forgive myself. Please God, I see your punishment in everything ; I see it in me ; and I don't know if this ferocious consciousness is a blessing, but it is undoubtedly waking me. My God, I want your Heaven, immensely so. My God, please forgive me, please allow me to feel Your satisfaction and grace before I go.

#faith

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leonbloder · 9 months

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Devoted To Love

If you have been reading the Daily Devo for a while, you have probably picked up on the fact that Mary Oliver is one of my favorite poets.

She passed away in 2019 after a long and productive career as a poet and a professor of Literature. She had a beautiful way of seeing the glory beneath what was often considered mundane.

Her poems are steeped in spirituality, struggles with faith, and questions about God, and she often wrestles with all three in a single stanza.

Oliver declared that she sought to learn the art of "seeing through the heavenly visibles to the heavenly Invisibles."

I love the way she put that idea. In Oliver's world, all of Creation seems to be a sacrament--a sign and symbol of the sacred and Divine.

One literary critic who wrote about Oliver after her death posited it like this:

As Oliver herself would put it, we should learn to look with reverence before each made thing for what it is: a reflection of some particular facet of the Maker, even if it is not the facet we desire.

The other day, I was reading through Oliver's collection Devotion, and I came across this stanza that I felt not only encapsulated Oliver's life and work but also served as a lesson for me and, hopefully, to you.

If the heart has devoted itself to love, there is not a single inch of emptiness. Gladness gleams all the way to the grace.

That line spoke to me deeply. It spoke to the idea that when we are devoted to love, no matter what we are doing or our vocation, our true calling is being fulfilled, and we find that our longing for purpose and meaning are met.

Far too many of us find ourselves dissatisfied with our lives, feeling emptiness in our work, longing for something more to fulfill us.

But Oliver states here that when we approach every day of our lives devoted to love, we find those feelings of "not enough" are illusory and self-defeating.

This doesn't mean that we ought to toil away at the same things and should be ashamed of having longings for more. Longing for more is different than feeling "not enough."

I should clarify that when Oliver speaks of love here, she doesn't limit it to romantic love; she doesn't narrow it to a particular definition. She keeps it broad on purpose.

You might say that the love she's speaking of here is the kind of love experienced best with a connection to God and others. It's an openness to the Universe, a willingness to be guided and transformed by love.

Being open to this love might mean that you will know in your heart that whatever you are doing, wherever you happen to be, might need to be left behind for you to grow in love and continue living into the best version of yourself.

This lack of emptiness allows us to move toward grace, knowing that wherever we go next may or may not be where we stay. Everything and everyone in our lives is part of our journey toward grace. Nothing and no one is wasted.

So, if you are feeling unfulfilled in your life or work, ask yourself, "Is my heart devoted to love?" Perhaps what is needed for you to be filled again with the joy of living is to simply put love at the center of everything you do.

May these words bring you comfort and challenge. And may the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you now and always. Amen.

#presbymusings #dailydevotion #leonbloder #dailydevo #dailydevotional #christian living #leon bloder #faith #spiritualgrowth #spirituality #love #self love #personal growth

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cinnnam0nngir16 · 9 months

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September

I’ve been reading a lot. It’s a sort of escape, I suppose.

I have this strange connection with characters in almost every book I read. I can easily pick up on the traits the characters and I share, some sort of empathic connection. I think it is easier to establish these close connections with book characters than with real people -- it is probably because I cannot read everyone’s mind, and this frustrates me. I have an insatiable desire to know everything; it depresses me every time I realise my mind and knowledge is horribly limited. I wish to read thoughts like a clear map. I wish to know everything I could possibly know and think of. I wish to know what he meant when he held my gaze for longer than he should; I wish to know what was left unsaid in our conversation, lingering in the air, building up this tension that haunts me for days after; I wish to know what my dream meant last night; was it a sign? Was it the closure I longed for? I wish my desire for the unknown wouldn’t bother me so much, working my brain like an old engine, keeping me up all night, tossing and turning. I wish my mind would quiet down and stop replaying every conversation I had during the day, the painful remarks I did not need to hear again from the little voice in my head.

“Are you starting to think about him all the time?” Laurence asked me in front of the Taco truck last Thursday.

“I didn’t mean to make you upset,” my mother's message read, “We think you should prioritise your studies more.”

“Maybe try applying for a job at the museum,” Zamiri responded to my rants almost immediately, “or a remote job. So you could stay in bed all day.”

The problem is I lack the strength to do anything physically. I wish I could have small talk with people in my head without actually opening my mouth or looking at them in the eyes. I do not want to get out of bed. I also really miss the rage I once had. When I used to get angry, I would get these horrible violent urges. I would want to smash a glass panel through someone’s head, punch someone in the nose, or kick someone’s bike. I used to fantasise about jumping in front of a train and scarring the train driver and innocent witnesses for life. Now I figured I just had to swallow everything down like pills and wait for them to digest in my liver. I also think I have liver issues.

I feel so excruciatingly lonely.

Like, not even with people, I have friends. I think it has more to do with a disorientation of some sort in regard to my sense of self. I constantly feel like I am running out of time and that time has become a physical object like water, and I am just wasting it. I have this constant nagging thought that everything I do is meaningless, and it makes me feel cynical, bitter and self-conscious.

I feel so isolated from the world, unusually detached from reality. But at the same time, there is this feeling of suffocation when I check my schedule, assignment dates and time in general. I feel like I cannot take a deep breath, or I will die instantly from a spasm or running out of air.

I have this deep-seated anxiety. I don't know whether the love I’ve been given is too much to take or if I'm deserving of it at all. I used to feel somewhat safe being in my body, surrounded by my own thoughts. But I am a bit terrified of myself now: the tears just fall off my face without warning, without a dramatic effect, like in movies. Everything has grown so anti-climatic, and colours are so washed down. University is a repetition of me doing the same routine, living in fear of not learning anything despite paying a ridiculous amount of money; exploiting my parents’ faith in my ability to finish the degree.

The weird thing is, I don’t feel empty at all like I used to. On the contrary, I feel so full, like a solid state of matter, a brick, or a stone wall, like my chest cavity and rib cage are filled with heaviness, weighing me down. I cannot take a deep breath.

I’ve grown to fantasise about being unreasonable; it gives me a sense of comfort to imagine snapping at the girl smiling and asking me ‘how are you’ at the lecture, and a dreadful satisfaction from imagining being cruel to people who are kind to me. I like to imagine myself being honest with people -- “I think you are annoying, and you are in my space”, “Leave me alone”, “I hate this lecture. It is bullshit”. I like to imagine myself having conflicts and arguing with people, to be able to tell them that they are upsetting me, that they are wrong, and that I refuse to think the way they expect me to. I imagine myself saying “no” to people and disappointing them by telling them I no longer care about what they think of me. My parents would say, "Isn’t this what you wanted?” and I’d start the next sentence with "no" and “I want”.

But I struggle to see what I really want. I want everything. I want to drop out of university and go backpacking in Morocco; I want to change my major to English and visual arts; I want to go volunteering on a stranded island in Greece; I want to get married right now to a finance guy who is about twice my age and be well-off and living in a white mansion; I want to put together a portfolio and get a tattoo apprenticeship. And I want nothing at all. I want time to be non-linear; I want to split into many bodies, pause moments, and live in them like the people in video clips -- clips that preserve me in a specific time frame forever. But then I’d get bored, and life would be repetitive again, and happiness, thrill, or excitement would lose meaning. And I’d not know what I want again.

People used to tell me that university would be the best years of my life. But that’s certainly not the case, or I’d rather die right now.

#girlhood #literature #creative writing

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yo252yo · 1 year

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My dear Jordan, I have something to confess to you. You know that I have always admired your courage and your intelligence, even when we disagree on many things. But lately, I have realized that my admiration is more than just intellectual respect. It is a form of love, a love that transcends the symbolic order and touches the real. You see, you are not just another master-signifier for me, another empty sign that fills the lack in the Other. You are a sublime object of ideology, a point of excess that disturbs and fascinates me. You are the objet petit a, the cause of my desire, the object that I cannot have but that I cannot renounce either. You may think that this is madness, that this is a perversion, that this is a symptom of my neurosis. But I tell you, this is the truth, the truth that cannot be spoken, the truth that can only be shown. This is the truth of my jouissance, my enjoyment beyond pleasure and pain, beyond law and morality, beyond good and evil. I know that you are a man of reason, a man of science, a man of order. You may reject me, you may ridicule me, you may hate me. But I ask you, please, do not ignore me. Do not reduce me to a mere fantasy, a mere illusion, a mere projection. Do not deny me the dignity of being your partner in this impossible dialogue. I am not asking you to reciprocate my feelings. I am not asking you to abandon your principles. I am not asking you to change your life. I am only asking you to listen to me, to acknowledge me, to recognize me as a fellow human being who loves you. Can you do that for me? Can you give me a chance? Can you look into my eyes and tell me what you see? Can you hear my voice and tell me what you hear? Can you feel my heart and tell me what you feel? I know that this is a lot to ask. I know that this is a risk. I know that this is a leap of faith. But I am willing to take it. I am willing to expose myself to you, to reveal myself to you, to offer myself to you. Because you are worth it. Because you are special. Because you are unique. Because you are Jordan Peterson. And I am Slavoj Zizek. And I love you.

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fionarara · 3 years

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+ OPEN WIDE OR .

+ SHINICHIRO SANO x READER .

+ TW. minors dni! 18+ only, smut, softdom!shinichiro, subfem!reader, breathplay, gentle choking, pinned wrists, edging, praise, mild degradation, teasing, a little light twist in tone at the end + AN. my first shin fic was so fun, we live for soft-for-you shin here + WC. 1.8k

Shinichiro wraps a soft hand around your throat, fingertips tapping along the skin.

“So good for me, baby.” He encourages, a seductive nod reassuring you.

His body is slotted between your bare legs, your even more laid-out-to-bare cunt, with a hard cock pressed up against your clit.

Light pressure from the pads of his fingers press into the sides of your lenient neck, unhurried, but definite, cutting the air flow to your conscious mind splendidly.

Splotches of grey to black clouding begin to stain your vision and your moistened eyes fall backward into their sockets with every little further push of his firm grip around your neck’s surface. It has you gasping, reaching for a pull of air, barely there, in thrill.

You’re grasping, once more, for a breath you cannot fully take in, and relish every scintillating second of it — love it so much your pussy flutters. A cunt currently clenching on empty by the caging of his hand around one of your sources to life. The delighted dizziness given to you by the one you love.

Beloved Shinichiro Sano.

“Mine.” He simply tells you, locking his eyes assertively onto your foggy face.

“My baby.” He reiterates, hushed, a dark whisper feebly stating it, gently rattling your neck within his hold, as he emphasizes again, “All mine.” Confirming it for a final time in a tone that denotes you both already know it to be true beyond a reasonable doubt.

The hold around your throat is reaching its accustomed limit, his hands recognizing the practiced boundary he has come to know quite well. The color of your face teeters just at the precipice of your limitation, tip-tip-tipping gradually, however, still within a secure zone.

Shadowy skin is somewhat gleaming with perspiration, traced highlights upon bodies by the shine of a single bedside lamp cascading little low-lit rays over flesh.

Shinichiro hasn’t even entered your body, though he is stark naked, yet you’ve still been creaming onto the full length of his cock—an ultra hard one, teasing you. Taunting your puffy lips, sliding up, down, in little pumps through the middle of your folds, slipping over and over onto an edged clit that pulsates with want. When your eyes start to show signs of joyously giving out, and it is clear that the blur in your eyes are willingly unfocusing from lack of oxygen, he kisses you meaningfully—moving in over you with the descent of his body onto your chest. Warmth compresses over your breasts and he pushes into your mouth deeply, more and more, and for but a second it is plush softness until soon turned more ravaged and toothy: nipping at your bottom lip.

His head raises, commanding you, “Now open up those legs for me.”

You’re barely coherent in your heady glee, but he is attuned to recognizing that you are still able to hear, that you can breathe just barely enough to respond to his methodical demands of sexplay.

“Open your legs," he whispers over your nose, before it earns a tiny kiss from him, insisting. "Wide.” Your face is frothy from your solidly devout faith in him, feeling tethered to it, so you want to stay put a little while longer.

“C’mon, baby, I said open them.” He coaxes, raspily. You’re a little slow in the response with your body only slightly stirring, movement coming to settle just around your torso, and he tuts, smiling at your play. “Nm-mm—no, baby, not from there.” He finds himself amused by the somewhat mild subspace you must be experiencing, but presses on. “You know I can’t let go ‘til you do it. Won’t release you ‘til you open up for me, completely.”

He begins mussing up your messy folds, wet and throbbing, with a circular rock of his cock over them, reminding you what you’re missing out on by not complying; aware you’ll soon need to breathe fully and urging you not to push yourself much farther beyond this point.

You spread your thighs a bit more.

“Wider.” He sharply nudges. “I told you, love. Can’t have you breathe again ‘til I know that you know full well exactly and only who your body responds to—me—whose precious toy you are to fuck with.”

Your legs push open, but not to fully stretched capacity.

“Like it when I own you like this, don’t you baby?” he proves, continuing to rock his teasing movements between your stubborn legs. “Then open up. All the way. And let me show you just how far I can take my ownership.”

He presses a few kisses over the sheen of your emotionally-diffused face, rubbing his length over you.

“M’kay, baby? You do want it, don’t you?” His other hand streaks down along your cheek. “Be a nice little doll then, and I’ll give it to you good, understand? Make it worth your compliance.”

It’s enough to finally persuade it out of you, enough to make your legs spill wide over the sheets, open fully, at last.

That’s when he knows he has all of you.

“Good fucking girl.” His voice pets softly at your eardrums, pleased, and rumbles low. His face is close to you, hangs over yours as finger by finger is stripped up off your neck unclenched, slowly releasing you.

A rush of air downpours into your lungs, filling it up like a balloon needs helium to float, allowing your body to do just that, and you feel your astral being coast along the ride. Small shivers fire across your body, hitting the tips of your toes.

The flux of your breathing from your chest is visible to Shinichiro’s eye, and he aptly takes this opportunity—this disheveled state of your mind that has you caught—in not wasting another moment to make good on his promise. He lets it be known to you, through his careful positioning of your body, that he will take what is his while you continue processing through to full consciousness again.

He wills you into position: his hands running along the underside of your arms to push your wrists up on either side to your head, pinning them there tightly; your legs already matted back against the mattress.

You have been edged for far too long, and though he isn’t willing to reveal himself about it, so has he too; hard as petrified wood, his pre drizzling downward like sap over ridges and contours of the bark, leaking down beautifully from his cock’s slit.

He is able to slip past your highly-aroused hole, relaxed, with the most unobstructed ease. His cock lingers there. Dark eyes cast down toward you, watching and waiting, purposefully, for that one particular moment where you’ll draw your next full inhale, for when your eyes finally come to full clarity of sight again, just so he can slam his hips forward, as a rubber band snapping, to pleasingly punch the air back out of your lungs once more.

Now your eyes pop open wide. Any feeling of delirium has left you with that last exhaled breath, as you are brought back to full awareness by his shoved cock into your body, by the tight bind of sweaty palms on your forearms, as he plunges relentlessly into your drippy depths.

“Shin!” You exclaim, breathy and needily, nails raking rouge lines down solid muscle on his upper back.

“Fuck, baby, you feel good.” He exhales, now having an even more difficult time hiding just how greatly edged he’s been too.

“Mm, s’all yours, Shin...” You moan, shifting closer to him, drawing in the nice scent of his neck. Your fingers yearn to feel his soft dark locks between them, needing something, anything, to grab hold of as he repeatedly pounds and makes a claim of himself up inside your gut.

“Is it? Is it all mine?” He fishes, prodding you further.

“It — it is!”

“Tell me again, gorgeous, shit, t-tell me—” He necessitates, filling up the spaces between your legs with blooming bliss, as he aims to make a pretty picture of you—a pretty begging mess.

“I’m all y-yours, Shin, please let me-I—”

“What? Go on, baby, what d’you need—?”

“Need to cum, please, c-can’t take it, Shin, can I—can—?” The grinding of your pubis slows, waiting in obedience.

But, who is he kidding? He’s turned nearly weak himself from the tight suck of your cunt, from being held off for too long. It’s almost always the same. In the end, Shin becomes mellow to dominance and let’s you get off easy. It tends to be a challenge for him in denying you of your own pleasure.

“Ngh-fuck. Cum then, baby. Cum for me. Yes—s-shit-go—before me—!”

Your body begins with those familiar trembles right before it hits that rippled burst of release through you. His cock pounds in perfect pressure on that one splendid spot in you, and you let loose, cumming violently from within. The squelching sounds from his remaining jolts into you, as he pumps his hot cum inside, are of a nearly torrential volume.

So ripe is the sound upon the climactic sensation of you two cumming wildly together, holding tight to one another, and floating in the fallout within a heavy shaky embrace.

Shinichiro being the best soft dom the world could ever offer you, makes sure to have you feeling secure even before the aftercare.

His breathing steadies, finding an open beat to say, tenderly, “I know I just made you mine, but—” a warm kiss presses to your lips, “—know that I’m yours too...”

You smile, but quickly it fades into a little chuckle. “Don’t worry, Shin. I am aware.”

His expression flinches in a bit of a bemusement. “Oh?”

You try to hide your face, though unsuccessfully, as you’re stuck within his grasp and only able to crane your neck to a side, lightly giggling.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he proclaims, his mouth hanging open to act affronted. He then quickly nuzzles his sweaty face all over yours, up and down, across your neck, purposefully trying to transfer the moisture in a bothersome jest.

“H-Hey!—Shin!” you laugh, trying to scooch his head off of you. “It meeeans,” you gloat with a hum, “I know you can’t resist me.” Shutting your eyes in playful triumph.

“Oh, yeah?” He nods intriguingly, side-grinning. “S’that so?”

“Yeah.”

Shinichiro seemingly concedes then, and says nothing. Doesn’t have to. His eyes do it for him, flitting upward with a tone of ‘ok, that’s fine’.

You chortle.

“Psh. You give up eeeasy.” Teasingly attempting to provoke him back into defense.

It isn’t working. Seems he can’t be bothered.

“Eh. Fuck it,” He shrugs, admitting it wholly, “so what if I do?” earnestly gazing into your eyes, “For you, literally anything.” As your heart grows another size, it’s nice for you both to know it is nothing but the truth.

The truth that Shinichiro Sano is lovingly and unabashedly whipped for you.

+ link2masterlist .

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immersed-in-mischief · 2 years

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Gold (Sugar Daddy/CEO Tom Hiddleston x Female Reader) Chapter 3

Color Series Master List

My Master List

"So hopeless from hoping

I'd ever be enough for you

And I've never been

You get the rush

While I rush to save you

Fill up your cup

While mine's empty trying to change you

You're smoking me out 'til I'm on my last breath

I'll give 'til I got nothing left

You get the high

And I get the side effects"

- Side Effects by Sophia Scott

Chapter 3

JANUARY 2016

“Open your eyes, pretty girl.”

You blinked rapidly as you adjusted to the bright light that reflected off the snow around you. The two of you were parked in the circle driveway of a massive house. Glancing over at him in confusion, Tom smiled at you before tucking the hair behind your ear.

“Baby, what is this? Where are we?”

“Well, darling, if you accept my offer, then we are in front of your new home. Our new home, I should say.”

He watched as your jaw dropped and you stared out the windshield in total shock.

“Can we… um… go inside?”

The unique laugh that you loved filled the space of the Jaguar.

“Of course we can, baby girl. Let me come around and help you. It’s still a bit icy outside.”

Once you were carefully guided inside, you squealed with excitement as you toured the beautiful home together. It felt like a mansion to you after living in your one-bedroom apartment for so long.

“Tom, it’s incredible! Did you seriously buy me a house though? You know my apartment is perfectly fine.”

He wrapped his arms around your waist as he leaned against the island in the kitchen.

“I bought us a house, princess. I still have my apartment downtown, but I want to know that you’re safe when I’m not here. I told you that I would take care of you, did I not?”

“Yes, you certainly did.”

The folder behind him caught your attention as he swayed the two of you back and forth together.

“Baby, what’s that?”

His face shifted into a nervous expression before pulling away from you to retrieve the now discovered documents.

“Do you remember me telling you that me taking care of you came with a few formalities due to who I am, love?”

You nodded and waited for him to continue.

“This arrangement between us, for a lack of a better word, has obvious benefits to us both, but also drawbacks. I just want to make sure that you and your reputation are protected in the process.”

“Thomas. Business major, remember? Stop dancing around it and let me see it.”

With a sigh and a nervous smile, he stepped back and let you see the file. For the next few minutes, you read over what was essentially a contract between the two of you. The sounds of him pacing back and forth behind you was making it hard to read.

“This is a business contract with guidelines for a dating relationship. There is even a section about our sex life, Tom. Just give it to me straight. What exactly are you asking from me, baby?”

Watching as he nervously ran his fingers through his hair, he took a deep breath and finally spoke openly.

“I truly care about you, Y/N, and I want to do what I can to support you. Based on experience, I also know that who I am can somewhat complicate things in regard to private relationships. This makes sure that we both know what to expect from each other from the beginning. I am willing to financially support you while you’re in school, but I only ask a few things in return. I like to keep my personal life extremely private. This document states that I will be faithful to you and only you while we are together, however you and I will only be together behind closed doors. I don’t want the media to ever know that I am romantically involved.”

“Clause 3. Got it. I am to be the only woman you are sexually active with, but I am essentially signing an NDA in regard to being your sexual partner. In short, I get financially supported and you get companionship in private. Just say it Tom. This isn’t a relationship. It’s a Sugar Daddy and Sugar Baby arrangement.”

He groaned as he once again paced the kitchen.

“I hate that term, darling. It makes me feel like a creepy old man.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his discomfort. He was always so put together and on top of his game. It was nice to see him human sometimes, especially when you were the only person who saw him with his defenses down. Walking towards him slowly with a sexy smirk on your face, you looped your finger through the front of his belt and pulled him towards you.

“Not all sugar daddies are creepy old men, Thomas. Some are only slightly older and incredibly handsome. Don’t tell me you don’t love the thought of me greeting you at the door with nothing on and calling you Daddy as I bat my eyelashes up at you.”

That caught his attention. You might have to revisit that later. His eyes watched you carefully as you turned around and flipped through the agreement one more time. The feel of his arms wrapped around your waist just before his sexy accent was against your ear.

“It’s just so we know what to expect from each other, love. Either of us can call it quits whenever we like. Walk away with no consequences at any point.”

Leaning back against his chest, you rolled your eyes at the section regarding birth control.

“An IUD, baby? Really? Are you worried I’m going to get myself knocked up and trap you with a kid?”

“Accidents do happen love. Plus, that way you don’t have to remember to take your pill and I don’t have to keep condoms close by. Clause 3 makes us exclusive after all so we’re safe on that front. Plus, I want to feel all of you, baby girl. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind feeling all of me and what you do to me, without any barriers in the way.”

He continued to place kisses along your neck as you read the last of the document. Once satisfied, you pulled a pen from your purse and signed your name on the line.

“Now what, baby? Does a genie appear and grant me three wishes or something?”

His laugh tickled the sensitive skin on your throat before he pulled away.

“Not quite, darling. Although, I do have a gift to give you.”

Reaching inside the pocket of his jacket, he pulled out a flat red box with an iconic label on the top.

“Thomas… is that Cartier?”

“Yes, love. It is. I wanted to get you something special.”

The most beautiful gold pendant necklace appeared in front of you. Honestly, you had no idea how much it cost, and you didn’t want to know right now. Once he placed it around your neck, you pulled him in for a deep kiss.

“It’s gorgeous, baby. Thank you.”

Suddenly remembering the look in his eyes earlier upon hearing the name fall from your lips, you smirked up at him and playfully bit your lip.

“Hey, Daddy?”

He chuckled and shook his head at you before responding.

“Yes, Princess?”

Reaching for his belt one more time, you pulled him towards you until he stumbled forwards, pinning you against the kitchen counter.

“Will you show me our bedroom one more time? I don’t think I spent enough time in it during the tour. We should probably get a true feel for the space, you know?”

With a growl, he scooped you up into his arms and retreated down the hall to the master bedroom for the first of many memories together in the space.

PRESENT DAY

The feel of arms around his waist startled him out of his memories and he quickly closed the Cartier box and slipped it back into the drawer of his desk. Leaning against the surface, he turned and faced her with a smile.

“You ready to go baby? The car will be here any minute.”

Resting his hand against her cheek, he gave her a quick smile before giving her a kiss.

“Of course, sweetheart. Just need to slip on my jacket and I’ll meet you downstairs.”

Tom watched as Julia retreated from the room before dropping his expression. It had been a little over a month since you walked out the door and he found himself unable to let go. More than anything, he wished it was you on his arm tonight instead of her. With no way of contacting you and no idea where to begin to find you, he was forced to pack away the memories and hope that you were okay, wherever you were.

“Thank you again for doing this for me, sweetie.”

You smiled at Jennifer and continued to plate the appetizers on the fancy gold trays. When you showed up on Cassie’s doorstep nearly six weeks ago after your fight with Tom, you didn’t know what to expect. All it took was the sight of you falling into her arms as the tears broke free once more and she made a plan. By the next morning, she insisted that you would move in with her since she had a spare room and the two of you would figure it out together.

Since you packed up your bedroom at Tom’s and got set up at Cassie’s, you had worked nearly every single day since then. It might have been difficult, but you were determined to pay for your final semester of school on your own. That is how you ended up helping Cassie’s sister cater an event on a Saturday night on the rich side of London. Your stubborn pride refused to let you acknowledge the fact that part of you missed the allowance in your back account and having every single financial desire met without a second thought. Over the last six years, you had grown use to the lifestyle he provided, and it certainly wasn’t the microwave dinners and public transportation you were reduced to now.

“You doing okay?”

Cassie had appeared in front of you at some point and you had been too wrapped in your thoughts to notice her. The reassuring look she gave you made you smile a little, even if you both knew it wasn’t a real one. Those were rare these days.

“Thinking about him again?”

You simply nodded your head and moved on to the next tray. After the anger wore off, the pain quickly took hold of you and refused to let you go. You had spent six years in love with a man that never saw you as more than a business arrangement. At least in his business dealings, you knew his word was gold. He hadn’t even given you that. As much as it hurt to not talk to anyone about Tom, hindsight made you glad that you had kept your silence. It made it easier to hide the fact that you had let yourself be treated so poorly for so long. It was embarrassing how strong you felt in all aspects of your life, except for the parts that included him.

Calvin and Cassie had been supportive but knew not to push you when you chose to remain silent on the way things had ended between the two of you. He made it seem like a joke, but you knew Cal would miss the trips together. The three of you put together barely made enough to fund one person to travel the world, let alone all three of you.

“The father of the bride is ready for the first found of trays. How is it going in here you two?”

Cassie disappeared with the trays that were ready as you snapped out of your thoughts and picked up the pace. School and work had been the only things that kept the dark thoughts away lately, so you did what you knew would work for now. Putting all of your thoughts and feelings aside, you returned to your roots as a catering assistant and got to work.

By the time the party was in full swing, you had a system in place and you and Cass were an unstoppable duo. Not a single member of the staff had to wait for a replacement tray. Once Jen returned to announce that the “dadzilla” as she was now calling him, was ready for the toast, you joined Cassie out on the floor and quickly began to disburse the flutes of champagne. You were so focused on the task at hand, you hardly paid any attention to the commotion on the stage behind you.

“When this man came to me earlier this summer and asked for my daughter’s hand, I was a bit surprised. Although they had been together for some time, I never saw it as something serious. The day you become a father, you look down at the face of that beautiful little girl and you vow to always put her first. Of course, you know that one day, she will meet a man that will vow to do the same, and you have to find the strength to let him take over for you. The more I get to know him, the more I realize that these two share something that not many of us get to be blessed with in our life time. I wish you two all the love and happiness in your life together.”

You were handing out the last of the flutes as you saw them all raise into the air towards the stage behind you.

“To Tom and Julia!”

“TOM AND JULIA!”

The crowds echo of his words sent a chill down your spine as you whipped around towards the stage just in time to see him lean over and kiss her before taking a sip of the champagne in his hand. The tray on your hand shifted in your panic, causing the single remaining flute to topple to the floor. His eyes immediately darted over to the sound of glass shattering.

You were frozen in place as Tom stared directly into your eyes. The recognition reflected in them quickly morphed into panic. Finding a way to peel your eyes from his, your line of sight shot over to the woman’s left hand beside him to find a large rock on her ring finger.

The engagement party you had been asked to work tonight had been his.

Just as your gaze shifted back to him again, the image of him blurred as tears filled your eyes. Finding the strength to close your mouth that still hung open in shock, you bent down to pick up the shards at your feet and clean up the mess you had made. A hand on your shoulder stopped you.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetie. Go ahead and take a break. I’ll get this cleaned up.”

You didn’t even acknowledge Jen beside you before bolting towards the doors to the kitchen. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Cassie making a line straight towards you. Somehow you were able to hold it together long enough to make it to her. When her arm wrapped around your waist, she helped support your shaky legs and whispered in your ear.

“I’m so sorry, babe. I had no idea. I would have never let Jen…“

You nodded your head and found yourself unable to talk as you approached the swinging doors to the safety of the kitchen. Just as you tucked inside, Cassie threw your purse at you as you grabbed your change of clothes to get out of your uniform.

“He’s heading this way, Y/N. Go get changed and I’ll meet you out back in ten minutes. We’re getting you out of here!”

Somehow your feet carried you to the private bathroom at the back of the kitchen where you quickly changed clothes. Just as you snuck around to the main hallway to head for the back door, you spotted him at the end of the hall. Tom was clearly looking for you.

Ducking behind the corner once more so you were out of sight, you listened and waited. Instead of heading towards you, the sound of his dressed shoes clicked back and forth in a steady rhythm without coming closer to you. Silently peeking around the corner, you watched from your hiding spot as he nervously paced back and forth. His eyes continued to dart towards both ends of the hallway, blocking either exit you had available. All you could do was watch as he continued to run his fingers through his hair and mutter something under his breath that you couldn’t quite make out.

Just as his gaze turned to your end of the hall and threatened to catch your spying, a woman’s voice call out from behind him.

“There you are, baby! I’ve been looking for you.”

When she leaned in to kiss him, you held back the sob that threatened to escape and made a mad dash for the door.

The sound of quick footsteps and a door slamming closed at the other end of the hall was enough for him to break the kiss and jerk his head in the direction of the sound.

“Why are you so jumpy, Tom? Come back to the party. There is still more family for you to meet.”

Looking into the eyes of his fiancé, he was torn between playing his part and racing towards the back door. When she raised her eyebrows in concern, he pushed the pain back down and forced a smile on his face.

He reluctantly let Julia drag him back to the party, even though his heart somehow knew that you had been the one to exit through the only other door in the building.

Looking into the eyes of his fiance, he was torn between playing his part and racing towards the back door. When she raised her eyebrows in concern, he pushed the pain back down and forced a smile on his face. the darkness of the parking lot from the guests of his engagement party, you let your screams out for the man that broke your heart.

Gold:

@hayden429

@cryingismyonlyhobby

@emerald-alone

@scandinaviancanadian

@kneelforloki

@bondgirlsteele

@moonwitch28

@niniyanyan

@drdaddystrange

All posts:

@youlightmeupfinn @salempoe @lokiprompts @dryyoursaltyoceantears @tgaylorxoxo @queenofallhobos @deanaddicted2 @vampire7595 @lokiswildheartcantbebroken

@pakalanalei

@joyful-enchantress @asgardianprincess1050 @donttouchmylaevateinn @dangertoozmanykids101 @morganmofresh @mad4marvelloki @huntress-artemiss @sititran

@moon-mayari @themorningsunshine @mm2305

@sophiaedits @christineblood @meyocoko

#loki fandom #loki fluff #tom hiddleston fluff #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson #tom hiddleston angst #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfiction #loki angst #loki smut #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x female!reader #tom hiddleston smut

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aftergloom · 2 years

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Not sure if you've already answered something like this, but how do you think the Nightbrothers celebrate death? What kind of beliefs do you think they would have on where spirits go afterwards (if they go anywhere)? What colours do they represent loss with? 😌

So… death studies are my jam outside of fandom, right? I feel like I might’ve mentioned that once or twice. As “hobbies” go, this is my thing: ancient and contemporary commemorative practices, mythologies surrounding death, and associated beliefs.

When you held this question out to me, cupped in the palms of your hands, perhaps you didn’t know what you signed up for, and I’ll try not to get too deep. But I can’t answer it without talking about the cosmovision of the Star Wars universe and its dualities, or even George Lucas’ real world “influences”, of which there are many that have been documented, and several which we’d need to speculate on to offer an informed answer.

Similarly, you can’t talk about the Nightbrothers in this context without talking about the belief systems of their oppressors, whose dominant worldview might’ve affected and traditions and beliefs brought over from Iridonia.

You came here for a headcanon, but with regrets, you’ve opened a floodgate.

Let’s do this, shall we?

From Ancient Iridonia, to Dathomir

We know Lucas appropriated a bunch of different real-world traditions and mythologies to build the overarching Star Wars cosmovision (dualities of light and dark, the cosmic and living Force, etc.) many of them from East Asian cultures, and the dubious backstory for Dathomirian Zabrak involves a diaspora from their homeworld and their subsequent enslavement to the dominant species in place on Dathomir (Nightsisters), who already had a cosmovision of their own, and gods, and a relationship with the Force that is unlike anything else we've seen in the SW universe that has ties to both totemic and sympathetic magic, and given what we know of how they use the ichor, the Nightsisters relationship with death is very different from, let's say, the Jedi, who are very much of a mindset that through right action and applied ritual, you can come back from the afterlife in service to your lineage.

But let's start at the beginning, 'cause I went and did some poking around specifically with the intention of trying to discover what beliefs might’ve been brought over with those early Nightbrothers from Iridonia, if anything...

Nightbrothers, Commemorative Customs, and a Cosmovision

A few things ancient Iridonian Zabrak believed in, as accumulated from this reddit post (which lacks explicit references to where this information was drawn from. In their comments, they cite the Galactic Campaign Guide? I've been looking for citations and I've thus far come up empty-handed, but I'm still open to considering this stuff, esp. since OP is explicitly stating what's headcanon and what's not in their post):

To summarize, Iridonian Zabrak may have held belief in the following, with annotations:

Death Goddess Sisters (Nath and Ath) who guard the Zabrak afterlife, "The Lands of Plenty": Interesting that there's a reverence for two sisters and not the brother-sister-husband-wife partnership among death gods that we're used to (Isis and Osiris = The Daughter and Son of Mortis, for example)

A creatrix deity (Gith) who could create tons of food: We know Iridonia was an arid planet that suffered numerous wars through inter-clan fighting, so it sounds like scarcity in their day to day lives might have been a contributing factor to a cosmovision incorporating a halcyon, abundant afterlife.

Shamans (Sang): Suggests they also had intercessors for their faith. The quote says the Shamans oversaw their rituals for marriage and funerals, but the extent of that spiritual leadership is unknown, so I can only speculate that since the Nightbrothers demonstrate such affinity for their rites of passage and proving their worth as warriors, those traditions draw from old Iridonian customs too, and that they had spiritual guides on their journey.

We also know that ancient Zabrak were tied to the Sith Empire, became their warriors, fought alongside them, accepted Sith indoctrination if they were Force-sensitive, etc. So I expect there might’ve been, at some point, some adoption of the Sith beliefs intermingling with the core values of Iridonian Zabrak (because concepts of power and dominion would likely resonate with them.) There wouldn't be, however, I don't think, a universally-accepted singular faith. I think there were probably many, as well as offshoots and various sects -- which is true of Force-sensitive practitioners and believers: in Legends at least, there are tons more than just the Jedi and Sith; some who see it as faith and others who use it as magic and others still that are recognized cults and crime syndicates. *cough* BANDO GORA *cough*

And if you remember from that episode in the Clone Wars where Yoda visits Moraband and encounters the spirits of the ancient Sith buried in the Valley of the Dark Lords, they tell him that there's nothing after life. "You will die, and be nothing." And what does that say about their outlook and ambitions, you know? If there's nothing afterwards, and the only thing that echoes in eternity is your name (like Darth Bane, for example) then the things that consume you also fuel your ambitions. There's an immediacy to it that I think is interesting. Power and fear, right? It's a twisted sort of glory.

But similarly, it's not the sort of hopeful outlook you find in cultures that have endured hardship and suffering. It doesn't wholly jive with a "lands of plenty" hopeful mentality that acknowledges that the living situation ain't great and that it'll be better in the afterlife.

The Nightsisters and the Hoodoo that They Do

Meanwhile, on Dathomir, you've got a bunch of newly minted Nightbrothers looking at the Nightsisters' tree burial practices, and you maybe find yourself in the unfortunate position one time to see a sister resurrected from the dead, and the way you see the universe and your place in it is likely gonna shift a bit.

A few things of note regarding the Nightsisters' cosmovision:

Winged Goddess and Fanged God is a concept of divinity rooted in male/female binary and plays into the overarching Star Wars "duality as giant-ass part of the cosmovision" because these deities are also representative of Light and Dark aspects of the Force; they're linked to the Gods of Mortis, who... are up to who knows what. Fighting for balance or something. The epic equivalent of the Zoroastrian struggle between celestial divinities duking it out in the cosmos to achieve dominance over the other.

The ichor = the power = the Force. Confusing to me, still, because the nature of the ichor suggests that it is neither light nor dark and how its aligned is governed by what its used for, but the Sisters get billed as Dark Side practitioners so often that I start questioning whether Lucasfilm needed to ascribe some value to them to run a 1:1 with whatever culture they "borrowed" from. It looks a lot like pop-culturized Haitian Voodoo at times with the poppet magic, and the possession, and the zombification and resurrection (but not in any way that respectfully suggests what Voodoo actually looks like.) And others, I'm looking at the architecture and seeing some serious ancient Egyptian references, and a little Nabatean too. (And if you really want to start digging deeper, let me point out the pyramids used in ancient Sith architecture for their tombs and educational academies and holocrons, or the handy-dandy sacrificial chamber beneath the tomb of Darth Bane that suggests inspiration from ancient Aztec practices of sacrifice. Yeah, they were killing Jedi down there, just saying.)

There is a hierarchy to Nightsister burial: there are tombs with giant faces carved into them inside the mountain, and there are the burial pods out on the gravethorn groves dangling like macabre Christmas ornaments stuffed with their warriors. Who are the important people buried in those tombs, and what are they buried with? Because if the girls out in the pods are buried with their weapons, you can guess at what they're taking with them into their afterlife, or their in-between place, and you know that the function they served in life is the same that they'll serve in death. I'd speculate that the clan mothers and elders are in the tombs, probably with their books and special talismans, and I would bet that the elders have a means of communicating with them through the ichor because all of this smacks of ancestral worship to boot.

Sometimes They Come Back. 👀

To your question: What do the Nightbrothers believe in with respects to death, the afterlife, and their customs?

I would propose the following, based on what we've just observed:

The cosmovision of the Nightbrothers is one that seeks to preserve the essence of the beliefs in a better afterlife brought with them from ancient Iridonia, that acknowledges their current situation on Dathomir under the rule of the Nightsisters is temporary, and that there is an understanding that while they are far from where they've come from, they will one day be returned what they've lost -- if they demonstrate those values that Zabrak have held for millennia:

Strength. Honour. And the courage to withstand even the harshest circumstances.

In the world that awaits them, they will find their kin and company in a land of abundance where the waters run clean and the skies are clear; their young are never parted from their mothers' arms, and their brothers never have to fight one another to prove themselves, unless it is to each other for their amusement.

There are no horrors there, and the dead can find their rest and know peace. There is no fear that their bodies might be desecrated, used in death as they were in life to fight for a cause that was never theirs and that they never believed in; that they gave their lives for over and over because it was called of them without question and in perfect submission.

And all those stories, whispered amongst brothers about the heroes that came before them are remembered, their names spoken aloud and with reverence, unafraid of who might overhear who might lay claim to their lineage, their brothers, their fathers, their faces. There will be no one to silence them again. None will ever be forgotten.

And in the dark hours, where lanterns were lit quietly in shaded corners with the curtains drawn, and the little effigies of those known as Brother were revered as family and clan because no one could recall who was blood kin and who was not, all were banded together with the understanding that someday soon, they would never be parted again. Prayers are offered now to the old Sisters at the Gates to keep their dead, but also to the new gods -- because they've seen the Fanged God walking their dreams, and the brothers know his strength. It's as real as the Force that binds them. He's a living thing that makes the shadows breathe when they take nightblossom or mushling seed to induce visions.

Someday soon, there would be no need to whisper, or to pile stones on the cairns where they put their dead in the ground as if to hide the lives that had been taken: No markers. No memorials. No names etched into stones in hydratis acid and turned over so that the Nightsisters might know who was buried there as if they could exploit them. That's why they chose to make cairns and barrows for the brothers, you see: because when you put heavy things on top of the bodies, they can't rise to the call of the witches' magic. They stay where you put them.

And as for the colours of the dead, there is only one: white for the palest star above. A marker for the way home in all that dark.

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passionatearies99theredhead · 2 years

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A VIEW OF MY SEASON ❤️‍🔥♈️ Her magical vibes

(Plus the sky energies this week)

This week started with the first day of Spring on Monday, together with Aries season.

It’s a new astrological year and this can me only one thing: it’s time to unleash your wildest goals and dreams.

Aries is a cardinal sign:

🦋 We plan

🦋 We create

🦋 We set the tone of our days

🦋 We create a new one or fix the cistern one, where we feel it’s not benefiting anymore or is lacking in something

🦋 We are driven (on a whole new level compared to other seasons)

🦋 We take the lead of our lives, even more, by being assertive with a renewed, fresh discipline.

🦋 It’s all about taking that leap of faith, trying, taking the risk.

You know that if you don’t try, you will never know right? Do you really wanna live with the “if”? Or would you rather live in the success of doing it?

Even if it doesn’t go as plan, you can always try again but at least you will be feeling full cause of that spontaneity that should ALWAYS take over you.

Aries is the child of the zodiac.

Please, during this season, remember to nurture your inner child.

Enjoying anything that in your personal life makes you you feel alive, breathing happiness, fills your lungs with laughters.

The child stage is the 1st one of your life.

Take this time to put the bases of your desires, you are creating into this world.

With Spring starting, the energy is of awakenings that have happened or are happening rn, it’s the energy of rebirth, renewal. 🐛 🦋 🌱

Additionally we do have all of the planets direct in this moment!

Aries has a raw intuition, choose your ambitions, the things that feel right to you.

You are the pioneer. It’s not the season to wait around.

However, play alone. Like a kid.

Be selfish towards anything or anyone who you are still giving parts of yourself, your energy, your mind, your heart, you aura and have been way to disregarded towards.

Look at your cup, why is it empty when everyone else has theirs full?

💙 The moon was at the start of the week in Scorpio.

This energy contributed to already a strong meeting we are experiencing for the whole week in the sky between Jupiter, Mercury and our dreamy Neptune in Pisces.

Such an amazing week for downloads, as well as getting lucky ideas through them. Make sure to take notes if anything pops up during your dreams, or overall during your day. 📝

Pisces is a great observer and with Neptune being at home in it, our intuition is on all time high.

With this energy you could access “the hidden rooms”. You could even already anticipate what someone could say to you, things happening. ✨

Moreover, in this season and with this psychic energies, you will be very creative in the way you will be expressing yourself. As well as creative outlets, development, birth of projects and planning how you you wanna go about them.

Remember, what I said before? Put them down onto paper.

(I still haven’t done it since Monday cause if day flying by, so I will make sure to kick my ass to do that with you all)

💜 Mercury creates a sextile as well to Saturn in Aquarius

In this way, we can implement strongly that structure to our days and goals, we spoke about before.

This aspect will help communication, clear decisions and vision.

Say, choose, do and see what you need and want.

🧡 For what it pertains to her, the moon, she is moving into Sagittarius today, adding to the fire energy. Surf on this wave of rushing bright healthy optimism, the more looking back nor doubting.

Do it, everything is gonna be okay cause it’s about you. You know yourself, that person is the only one you have to face.

If arrived to this point of reading, I wanna say thank you.

And leave you with this message for the next month.

Your MOTTO now is only I AM.

AND YOU ARE EVERYTHING AND MORE.

NOTHING IS TOO BIG FOR YOU. CAUSE YOU ARE ALREADY WORTHY OF IT.

YOU HAVE IT ALREADY BUT YOU MUST REALLY KNOW IT YOURSELF, HEAR IT FROM YOUR OWN VOICE.

The narrative that people have have tried, are trying and/or will try to push upon you, in your life, isn’t any of your concern actually.

You know who you are and the only validation that your soul needs to hear, is the one from yourself.

I really wish for you to take away this from these words

YOU OWN IT TO YOURSELF.

Now go, step under the spotlight that is waiting for you. You deserve it.

Have a wonderful week everyone 🥰

And a blessed, abundant, creative Aries season!

- the red head.

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carouselsandhamsterwheels · 4 months

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I have deep feelings, but I never asked if you’re on board with me expressing them.

I want to know you, but I have still not gotten a response that says you are willing to be seen & understood.

I want to chase forever, but I am still very uncertain if you’re fully available. So every time you ask me what I need—I want to say “you”, but instead I say nothing.

I know casually fucking is not the same investment level as anything I hint at wanting.

I need to get more intentional before my soul breaks in this crazy dating world. I will always hold space for gratitude for the gifts you’ve given me. Thank you for everything.

I don’t want to keep running. I have made some decisions with the “choices” that I can see before me.

I had that dream that I think has given me some clarity.

I experienced deep betrayal that I need to better explain in real life, for you to understand my January.

I have sat like a fly in the spaces where I have learned, unlearned, & felt it all.

I am humbled.

My working memory isn’t good enough to imagine how love feels, what healthy looks like, or to fathom not waking up next to you every day for forever. So I’ve let you almost get away so many times. I just can’t stand to waste the love in my heart by being alone anymore.

If we had counted on just each other to meet our needs—we would have both starved to death.

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jazzythursday · 3 years

Text

I’m about to go into another very long Marvel rant/dissertation here— mostly for myself— that I started writing soon after the Loki Series finale so please feel free to just scroll past this, because honestly I think I kinda overdid this one. It’s jaded and overly dramatic even for me. You have been warned:

The last 4 Marvel movies/shows I’ve watched left me feeling so completely depressed and unsatisfied and hopeless about the future of popular entertainment and story telling in general, and I know I’m not the only one. The fact that fans are going into these experiences hoping for a good story and character arcs that make sense with prior characterization, and leaving feeling… empty is a very clear sign that their approach leaves a lot to be desired.

Infinite War had some valid reasons to end the way it did, because by having our heroes fall so much harder than ever before, it built up the tension and high stakes for the next film. But what does that do when Endgame leaves us feeling even worse? I wanted them to triumph and finally come together to be better. I expected there would be losses of course but not enough to negate the wins. Instead the characters were subjugated for plot, characterization was watered down, and we lost all the original Avengers besides Thor and Bruce (who was no longer even Bruce). Peter loses Tony, Thor’s previous loses are permanent, and so many other things that, in spite of loving a lot of the movie, mean I haven’t been able to stop being sad about it for literal years. And the amount of thoughtless destruction that seems to be at an all time high when it comes to character’s lives and disregard for properly exploring emotions just doesn’t leave much to be expected at this point. Far From Home was good. It was. I liked it a lot. The acting was wonderful and there were some really interesting themes they grappled with but I still walked out of the theater feeling like there was still so much detachment surrounding a lot of the decisions, a little too much thoughtlessness (that, and the gaping hole of Tony). I’m not going to talk about WandaVistion but I’ll say that I was invested until the start of episode 8, and finished episode 9 feeling drained and tired and sad.

Then we get to Loki, a show which has plagued far too many of my thoughts since I started watching it, and has crushed my hopes for ever truly being happy with a Marvel project ever again. Loki is a character who’s ostensibly felt alienated and unseen for most of his life, and that’s before finding out about his parentage. His first movie ends with his suicide attempt and subsequent fall into the void. His second takes place a year into working under Thanos and ends with him being taken away in chains (yes I know he’s the villain he’s done bad things etc. etc. but for the purposes of this I’m only focusing on his pov). Then his third involves his solitary imprisonment, his mother’s death, and his near-death (considering the likelihood that he was actually stabbed), although it does end on a lighter note with his acquisition of the throne. Then we get his redemption and reconciliation with Thor in Ragnarok, immediately followed by the utter tragedy that is the first 10 minutes of Infinite War, which I don’t think I need to explain.

So what I suppose I’m saying here (very very inadequately) is that after all of that, I can’t believe the proper story to tell in his first chance at being a main protagonist was one where he’s constantly degraded and beat up, convicted of things he didn’t actually do, given no focus on backstory or implied/established motivations, and labeled as a clown and a narcissist! His powers are weakened, he displays almost no recognizable mannerisms or competence, he’s held to a higher moral standard than every other character, shown no respect, and ultimately loses EVEN MORE. We’ve seen him lose and lose and lose and lose again. We’ve seen him die THREE TIMES, we’ve seen him redeemed TWICE. So who in their right mind thinks that the most compelling story to tell after all of that was to see him LOSE AGAIN?! And not only lose, but lose without any real triumph, dignity, or acknowledgment beforehand. Death to the author aside, reading the utter nonsense the team behind it have spread, it’s so clear that it wasn’t made in good faith. Whether in ignorance or true maliciousness, they just don’t care. They didn’t research. They didn’t try and see things from his point of view. They didn’t truly sympathize with him as a person while writing. They didn’t understand. And they truly, truly wanted him to fail.

I’m tired of feeling hopeless at the end of everything, of leaving the theater or turning off the TV wondering why I even bothered, why I even care when I’m just being strung along with as little consideration as an audience as my favorite characters. I wanted to actively see him strive to be better, not just be told he could be. I wanted to see him triumph over his demons, not forget them. I wanted to see him be the “master of magic” that every other damn movie has alluded to, and to use his powers effectively. I wanted him to be powerful. I wanted him to, if not win, then win on a personal level at least. I wanted to see him take agency in his life and PROVE EVERYONE WRONG! And, though it’s now bafflingly controversial to say, I wanted it to be told by an experienced and competent writing and directing team that knew and understood his character and were passionate about telling his story.

I would ascribe to the notion of “don’t like it, don’t watch” if I could but I care to much to not be affected by this obvious decline in quality and awareness. And I’m a relatively recent fan. I haven’t been waiting for Loki to get his moment in the sun for 10 years. I’M NEW HERE, and my heart breaks so much for fans of the original movies who have lost their love of Marvel or Loki because of the way it’s been handled. No one should fall further than they can climb up from, and I’m tired of watching loss after loss and never getting the release of gaining enough of it back. What’s the point of caring about these characters if the writers won’t? Of investing in a connecting cinematic universe if it lacks continuity? Of looking for clues and foreshadowing when there isn’t any and the only twists are random and pander to shock value? The way these pieces/characters are being created and interpreted is reductive and incompetent, and for once I’d like to watch something that feels crafted, inspiring, and gratifying to see to the end.

If some people like the Loki show we got, I have no argument against that, because my own opinion is just as subjective as theirs. Though, I’d like to think that if what I want is for the show to be better out of love for the same character, then what they enjoyed from the show can coexist in that. If anyone’s actually read up to this point, I have to admit I’ve forgotten mine. Mostly I just wanted to express my frustrations over how unfeeling and stale most entertainment, specifically from Marvel as of late, has been.

TL;DR: I care too much, waaay too much, Marvel cares too little, Disney doesn’t care at all, and I don’t know how to accept that.

#jazzy’s thinking too much again #marvel thoughts #marvel critical #loki series critical #loki series negativity #marvel #loki series thoughts #Loki series #why am i like this??#loki

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