devilishginger

[devilishginger]

“i am a monument to all your sins” is such a fucking raw line for a villain it’s amazing that it came from halo, a modernish video game, and not some classical text or mythos

[devilishginger]

Holly Warburton, Charlotte Ager, Salman Toor, Khaled Hourani, Vyara Boyadjieva, Haruki Murakami ("Sputnik Sweetheart")

[devilishginger]

I think I have a type

[devilishginger]

[devilishginger]

Look I may be completely wrong, I don't cliff jump into bodies of water on the regular so forgive me if I'm wrong, but how is Elrond not injured by the fall?? The pan down from the waterfall to the cliff made the cliff look incredibly high. Not to mention the possibility of rocks at the bottom of the waterfall. My first reaction to it was “YOU’RE GOING TO DIE!” (let’s pretend that we don't know he lives)

How afraid of Galadriel and Gil-galad was he to think that was his best option? Especially if he didn't know if he'd survive.

People do cliff jump for sport but the difference is how they land in the water. I don't know if Elrond is a seasoned cliff jumper because the surface tension could kill you. Yes, he is a half-elf but I don't gravity or the water cares that much.

Can someone smarter than me figure out how tall that cliff was and see if it was survivable? If it wasn't, then he really parallels Elwing, she didn't know that she'd survive. It was Ulmo that saved her. It was a suicide attempt to keep the silmaril away from Maedhors and Maglor.

If I am right about the cliff being high enough to kill him, then maybe Ulmo saves Elrond too. In my brief-as-hell research, Ulmo knew Eärendil’s father so maybe he's fond of the family. Ulmo is said to dwell in deep rivers, so it could be possible that he saved Elrond. What a parallel if I'm right

This is just a headcanon and massive speculation on my end, so I'd love to hear your thoughts. Like this me screaming at the sky type of headcanon, I’m not expecting to by right 😂

Ohhh, I had the same thought when Elrond made that jump! To me, it looked deadly. But what struck me the most was how the other Elves seemed so... unbothered? It might not be the perfect word to use here, but neither Galadriel nor Gil-galad seemed very concerned that Elrond might have been killed by that jump. I can’t tell if it's because they have this unwavering hope and goodness in their nature, or if they just knew the jump wasn’t as fatal as it appeared, but something about Gil-galad stationing guards at every crossing and Galadriel almost immediately assuming Elrond had gone somewhere else, rather than imagining him at the bottom of the ocean, makes me think the jump might not have been that dangerous—at least not for someone with Elven heritage 🤔

(Also, it did make me a little sad we didn’t get a moment where Gil-galad or Galadriel expressed concern, like “I hope he’s alright,” or even better, “We’ll deal with the rings after we find Elrond. First, let’s make sure he’s safe.” 💔)

But! With that said, I totally see the parallel to Elwing here. Elrond might know this waterfall by heart, but in a situation like this, you just can’t help but wonder if things might not go as smoothly as planned. I think you can see that fear on his face—his eyes show so much pain:

This is the look of someone painfully hurt, painfully scared, and painfully disappointed—knowing it's either give up the jewels or, possibly, face death. You can almost feel the pain of this realization in his expression, especially in the first two shots 💔

The moment we see Elrond from behind, with Gil-estel on his cloak, it feels like we're meant to draw a mental comparison to Elwing and the Silmarils. I can only imagine what that must have felt like for him 😭 I’m seriously tempted to write a fic exploring everything going through his mind in that moment. If this was a book, I'd want an entire chapter from Elrond's POV, just to know what he was thinking 😭

And! I love the idea of Ulmo saving Elrond!!! I was going to say that when I read your tags on my last answer. There’s something so beautiful about Ulmo quietly watching over Eärendil's family centuries later 🥺 It honestly makes so much sense!!!

[devilishginger]

you have invited strangers into your home, helen pevensie, mother of four.

without the blurred sight of joy and relief, it has become impossible to ignore. all the love inside you cannot keep you from seeing the truth. your children are strangers to you. the country has seen them grow taller, your youngest daughter’s hair much longer than you would have it all years past. their hands have more strength in them, their voices ring with an odd lilt and their eyes—it has become hard to look at them straight on, hasn’t it? your children have changed, helen, and as much as you knew they would grow a little in the time away from you, your children have become strangers.

your youngest sings songs you do not know in a language that makes your chest twist in odd ways. you watch her dance in floating steps, bare feet barely touching the dewy grass. when you try and make her wear her sister’s old shoes—growing out of her own faster than you think she ought to—, she looks at you as though you are the child instead of her. her fingers brush leaves with tenderness, and you swear your daughter’s gentle hum makes the drooping plant stand taller than before. you follow her eager leaps to her siblings, her enthusiasm the only thing you still recognise from before the country. yet, she laughs strangely, no longer the giggling girl she used to be but free in a way you have never seen. her smile can drop so fast now, her now-old eyes can turn distant and glassy, and her tears, now rarer, are always silent. it scares you to wonder what robbed her of the heaving sobs a child ought to make use of in the face of upset.

your other daughter—older than your youngest yet still at an age that she cannot be anything but a child—smiles with all the knowledge in the world sitting in the corner of her mouth. her voice is even, without all traces of the desperate importance her peers carry still, that she used to fill her siblings’ ears with at all hours of the day. she folds her hands in her lap with patience and soothes the ache of war in your mind before you even realise she has started speaking. you watch her curl her hair with careful, steady fingers and a straight back, her words a melody as she tells your eldest which move to make without so much a glance at the board off to her right. she reads still, and what a relief you find this sliver of normalcy, even if she’s started taking notes in a shorthand you couldn’t even think to decipher. even if you feel her slipping away, now more like one of the young, confident women in town than a child desperately wishing for a mother’s approval.

your younger son reads plenty as well these days, and it fills you with pride. he is quiet now, sitting still when you find him bent over a book in the armchair of his father. he looks at you with eyes too knowing for a petulant child on the cusp of puberty, and no longer beats his fists against the furniture when one of his siblings dares approach him. he has settled, you realise one evening when you walk into the living room and find him writing in a looping script you don’t recognise, so different from the scratched signature he carved into the doors of your pantry barely a year ago. he speaks sense to your youngest and eldest, respects their contributions without jest. you watch your two middle children pass a book back and forth, each a pen in hand and sheets of paper bridging the gap between them, his face opening up with a smile rather than a scowl. it freezes you mid-step to find such simple joy in him. remember when you sent them away, helen, and how long it had been since he allowed you to see a smile then?

your eldest doesn’t sleep anymore. none of your children care much for bedtimes these days, but at least sleep still finds them. it’s not restful, you know it from the startled yelps that fill the house each night, but they sleep. your eldest makes sure of it. you have not slept through a night since the war began, so it’s easy to discover the way he wanders the halls like a ghost, silent and persistent in a duty he carries with pride. each door is opened, your children soothed before you can even think to make your own way to their beds. his voice sounds deeper than it used to, deeper still than you think possible for a child his age and size. then again, you are never sure if the notches on his door frame are an accurate way to measure whatever it is that makes you feel like your eldest has grown beyond your reach. you watch him open doors, soothe your children, spend his nights in the kitchen, his hands wrapped around a cup of tea with a weariness not even the war should bring to him, not after all the effort you put into keeping him safe.

your children mostly talk to each other now, in a whispered privacy you cannot hope to be a part of. their arms no longer fit around your waist. your daughters are wilder—even your older one, as she carries herself like royalty, has grown teeth too sharp for polite society— and they no longer lean into your hands. your sons are broad-shouldered even before their shirts start being too small again, filling up space you never thought was up for taking. your eldest doesn’t sleep, your middle children take notes when politicians speak on the wireless and shake their heads as though they know better, and your youngest sings for hours in your garden.

who are your children now, helen pevensie, and who pried their childhood out of your shaking hands?

[devilishginger]

I'm pretty sure I hate myself, because I just imagined a good omens edit to queen's "who wants to live forever", and now I am back to crying on the floor.

"Who wants to live forever

Ooh

Who dares to love forever

Oh oo woh, when love must die

But touch my tears with your lips

Touch my world with your fingertips

And we can have forever

And we can love forever

Forever is our today

Who wants to live forever

Who wants to live forever

Forever is our today

Who waits forever anyway?"

"Touch my world with your fingertips"

[devilishginger]

Am I destined to be alone? Was I born without the parts to love?

[devilishginger]

on shame and yearning (pt.2)

[devilishginger]

Imagine telling this fresh faced Pedro about to graduate NYU that he would one day go from starring in a student film project

To hosting SNL

Imagine telling the Pedro in this interview from 6 years ago

That yes he will work with Almodovar

Imagine telling Narcos era Pedro

That one day he would lead a massively popular Star Wars show, an instant hit HBO original series, be in a Coen brother movie, and be in a Ridley Scott movie

He would have probably laughed and tell you to STFU, but he did it!

It’s surreal to me as a fan watching him achieve these milestones in his career. Can’t imagine what it’s like for him.

[devilishginger]

My thoughts are racing. From one end of my head to the other. Uncertain. Like a giddy horse.

Most times when I start to feel like this I get restless, I follow the itch in my hands to do something, anything.

But there are quiet moments were my panic swallows all my energy like a parasite. In those moments I lay like a puppet with cut strings.

I am easily influenced, persuaded then. Music, books, tv shows or opinions. I am fast to grasp onto things that are not from me. I can be swayed like a delicate flower in the wind.

Other times my throat swells up with acid. It burns in my chest.

I am grieving. People. The ones I knew, the ones I've never met. Opportunities. Those that I missed, and those that I didn't feel worthy of.

And myself. Mostly myself. I am constantly hurting on my own. I feel incomplete. Wrong.

Like a broken vase that has been put back together in the wrong order, with old crappy glue making up for missing pieces.

Because there is something missing, there's a black void in side of me, somewhere, sticky like tar, holding my cells together while it poisons me.

Why me?

Why am I never as happy as I think I am?

ㅡ Himiko (02/2023)

[devilishginger]

"The world is too real, too close.

I want to drown in something that isn't made of me."

ㅡ Himiko (10/2022)

[devilishginger]

"At times I wished that life wouldn't feel like a bittersweet taste left on my tongue."

ㅡ Himiko (02/2021)