#deviser live blogging

[weissflower]

i love Harlan Guthrie shows because I never know if the terrifying voice speaking from where no one should be is Harlan Guthrie (supposed to be dead), Harlan Guthrie (supposed to be trapped somewhere), or Harlan Guthrie (terrifying new thing that’s yet to be heard).

[parf-fan]

Annual fan-theory rehashing:

The shire of Mount Hope is caught in a time-loop, the same day repeating over and over.

Not always, mind you. This event only seems to be triggered by the presence of royalty in the little NightVale-esque village.  And even then, not all those present will be caught in it.  There is no real rhyme or reason to who will or won’t, but one can live in Mount Hope one’s entire life and never be caught in a loop.

Those trapped in the loop do not notice right away.  Oh, the ones who’ve done this a dozen times, of course they can tell immediately.  But most will not.  How could they?  All they will perceive at first is a vague sense of déjà vu.  As the loop progresses, things will start to seem actively familiar.  Folk meeting for the first time will already know one another.  They guess what is about to happen, and they are always right. They mentally recite the words of others as the words are first spoken.

Some may spend time privately questioning their own sanity.  Others will take counsel with those they trust as soon as they sense something strange.  The loop is openly acknowledged at different rates by different individuals, in part based on the speed at which it is recognized.  Some – particularly those whose minds most resemble those of the Fae – recognize it at once.  The very second time they live this day, they know they’ve lived it before with only slight differences.  Those with more typical minds take over a month’s worth of days to discern what is happening.  But sooner or later, all do.  And as they recognize it, they speak of it, mostly only to those they are closest to.  After a time – a little under two months’ worth of looped days, to be precise – all those within the loop have acknowledged and spoken of it with at least a few others.

Yet time loops are fickle things, and more often than not, the actions of the loop are determined by the attitudes of those within it.  So it is with the loop of Mount Hope.  Once everyone has spoken of and acknowledged the loop, it changes.

Against all rationality, something new – someone new, often – enters the loop.  An element of the supernatural previously absent.  It throws everything, everyone off.  The day begins as it has for months, but then it changes.  Nobody is prepared for this.  Some may think that perhaps they had dreamed the loop, that none of these events had truly yet transpired.  Others merely stare in disbelief, mentally mouthing phrases in the spirit of what the hap is fuckening.

And so they must begin again, recognizing the repeated events.  As before, the Fae-like minds catch on at once.  But the process for all is more speedy this time, for they’ve already recognized a loop once before.  And as they start pinning down this altered loop, they begin to accept. After all, bizarre though the past weeks of their lives have been, they cannot deny that they have enjoyed themselves immensely.  They are living a festival day, after all!  And through that time, they have all bonded with each other deeply.  One by one, they all come to the conclusion that, well, if they are to be stuck in the same day for the rest of eternity, they couldn’t have chosen better company with whom to be stuck.

But acceptance is just what the loop has been waiting for, precisely what was needed to free its prisoners, to end it.  The inhabitants of the loop are somehow aware when it is the last day.  How?  Who knows. Mount Hope is a strange place, and some things within it do not brook questioning.

And so the visitors and denizens of Mount Hope make their way through one final day.  In many ways, it will be a relief to end this, of course; yet there is not one among them wholly pleased.  For all have come to love one another immensely, and the routine of the day – moderately terrifying at times though it may be – has grown strangely soothing.

They live through their day one last time, and they stand on a stage and sing one last farewell.  A very few eyes may be dry, but these are in the minority.

And then it is over. New-reigning Catherine and Henry depart the village, promising to return someday. The Bavarian representatives stay some days yet, and then they, too, must turn their faces away. The Court of France scarce remains longer before setting off for their own realm. Her Majesty, newly crowned, and her cousin, newly redeemed, take their leave of a village newly at peace. Crisis averted, the newlyweds begin their life together, as the remaining civics folk scramble to rectify whatever other ills had been wrought by the architect of the crisis. Two queens, each both fallen and redeemed in differing ways, bid farewell to that setting of upheaval and most of the supporters who had helped enact such tumult.

Yet there is not one who e’er departs that shire who does not vow to return – for a day, a week, a month, another loop.  For such is the power of that strange place, that all who pass through its gates leave a part of themselves there, and all who leave that part of themselves do so because in that place, if only for a little while, they have found their home.

[dontyouworrydaddy]

First of all, let me tell you about how much I love your blog and your writing style. Your fics quality is top notch and I giggle like an idiot every time I see a new post from you. So, if it's ok with you can you write about our favorite COD men (including daddy Konig and Simon) whose SO keeps getting texts from her asshole ex - some of them begging to take him back and others borderline threatening, like "who's that dude you're dating now? You think you can replace me that easily?" etc. And our boys accidentally see these texts. How would they react to that situation? Thank you so much :)

𝑦𝑜𝑢’𝑟𝑒 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑒

Task Force 141 (+König) x fem! reader

You have no idea how much I appreciate these kind words. Like you literally just made me CRY because I‘m so happy to hear that. You guys motivate me to keep writing fr🫶🏻🫶🏻😭 I love you so much and I‘m so thankful to you! 🩷🩷🩷🩷

Also I love the idea oh my god. I can imagine them being super mad at him and be like as soon as she’s sleeping I‘m gonna haunt that mf and be super caring and not leaving your side until you’re okay again. AHHHH I have so many ideas I can’t put them all into words😮‍💨😫😫

I hope you enjoy this fanfic! Thank you again for the kind words, I really do appreciate it❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

➽───────────────❥

König

König found himself in a situation he hadn't anticipated. As he and you went about your daily lives, a series of text messages from your ex started flooding your phone. König couldn't help but catch glimpses of these messages, each one more distressing than the last.

I know you miss me

I still have that red dress from you…

You can stop acting like you don’t need me anymore and just come back ;)

You date insecure guys now? Wow Y/N… I mean I knew I was the best for you but I didn’t expect that low from you

I saw you the other day… You got a lot sexier ;))

I miss you so much baby. I love you…

They were filled with toxic words, attempting to undermine the happiness you had found with König.

Upon stumbling upon these messages, König's usually calm and composed demeanor wavered, replaced by a mix of concern and protectiveness. He couldn't fathom why someone would target you in such a hurtful way and it stirred a fire within him that burned with a fierce determination to shield you from harm.

His grip tightened around his phone as he confronted you, his voice laced with worry. "Schatz, what is this? Who is sending you these messages?" His eyes searched yours, a mix of anger and concern burning in their depths. But he wasn’t angry at you. He was more angry at himself because he feels like he failed as a boyfriend. His only mission is to make you feel comfortable and it feels like he failed at it. Because you didn’t talk to him…

You took a deep breath, realizing that the time had come to open up and share the painful truth. "It's my ex. He's been unable to let go and now he's trying to sabotage our relationship. I've been trying to handle it on my own, but it's becoming overwhelming."

The weight of your words settled between you, the gravity of the situation sinking in. König's protective instincts kicked into high gear as he reached out, pulling you into a comforting embrace. "Liebling" he whispered, his voice filled with determination, "You don't have to face this alone. I'm here for you and together we'll navigate through this storm."

His words were like a balm to your soul, offering solace and reassurance in a world that felt suddenly tumultuous. You found strength in his unwavering support, knowing that you didn't have to battle your ex's toxicity alone.

With each new text that appeared on your phone, König became even more resolved to protect you. He devised a plan to confront your ex, making it clear that his attempts to sow discord and threaten your happiness would not be tolerated.

But König's reaction wasn't solely driven by anger. It was driven by love and a deep understanding of the pain you were experiencing. He knew that these messages were more than just words on a screen…they were emotional daggers that pierced your heart. And he will make sure that your ex will never bother you again. Trust him.

Simon Riley

In the midst of it all the chaos he‘s been through, there was you, a source of light and solace that gave his dead life light. The two of you navigated the challenges of life together, an unwelcome presence lingered, threatening to disrupt the tranquility you had built.

But you were constantly tormented by text messages from your ex Josh. The messages were a relentless barrage of mixed emotions, ranging from desperate pleas for reconciliation to menacing threats aimed at undermining your newfound happiness. It was a constant reminder of a past you were trying to move beyond. It was always him trying to manipulate you into leaving Simon and go back to him.

One fateful evening, as you lay beside Simon, your phone illuminated with yet another message from your ex. Simon, ever vigilant and protective, caught a glimpse of the text and as soon as he read the words "I still think about you when I’m on my bed alone", anger flashed in his eyes. He knew about your crazy ex.

Concern etched across his face as he realized the torment you had been enduring in silence. You turn your phone around and looked up at Simon. So many emotions were written on his face that made you tear up.

Carefully, Simon pulled you into his arms, offering a comforting embrace. His touch was gentle, his voice soothing as he reassured you that you were safe with him. In that moment, he became your shield, determined to protect you from the darkness that lurked in your past.

As you drifted off to sleep, exhaustion finally claiming you, Simon's heart swelled with a mixture of tenderness and anger. He couldn't bear to see you suffer any longer. Resolute, he rose from the bed, leaving you in peaceful slumber and made his way to confront the source of your personal torture.

Due to his Job, it was easy for him to find out where he was living. And with determination etched upon his features, Simon found himself standing outside your ex's residence. He had no intention of resorting to violence, but his presence alone was enough to unnerve the cowardly individual who had been preying on your vulnerability.

As the door swung open, revealing your ex's face, a mix of surprise and fear washed over him. Before he could utter a single word, Simon's voice rang out with authority. "Leave her alone mate. If you ever come near her again, you'll regret it. And I‘m not a man to play fucking games with"

Josh felt the weight of Simon's unwavering resolve, cowered beneath his gaze. Fear clouded his eyes as he stammered out a half-hearted apology. Without further hesitation, Simon turned on his heel and walked away, leaving your ex to contemplate the consequences of his actions.

Meanwhile, back at home, you stirred awake, finding Simon by your side, his gaze filled with comfort and love. Wordlessly, he climbed back into bed, pulling you close, and kissed your forehead with a mix of gentleness and possessiveness.

"I won't let anyone hurt you," Simon whispered, his voice filled with a fierce protectiveness. "You're safe with me. Always."

In that moment, you knew that Simon was not only your lover but your guardian, a force that would go to any lengths to shield you from harm. And as you drifted back into a peaceful sleep, your heart swelled with gratitude, knowing that you were truly cherished by the man who would stop at nothing to keep you safe.

John MacTavish

You felt a mixture of frustration and fear as your ex continued to invade your life. The messages ranged from desperate pleas for reconciliation to thinly veiled threats, designed to unsettle and intimidate you. The constant reminders of your past were enough to make anyone's heart race and palms sweat.

One chance. Please baby.

Are you really dating a scottish man? You‘ve sunk so low.

One evening, as you and John were relaxing together, the barrage of texts became too much to bear. With a heavy sigh, you pulled out your phone, revealing the string of toxic messages that had invaded your peaceful sanctuary.

I will have you back, I‘m waiting baby.

John's eyes widened as he read the manipulative words that spilled across the screen. Without hesitation, John wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. He understood the fear and turmoil that consumed you and he was determined to be your shield, protecting you from the pain of your past. His voice, laced with a mixture of concern and determination, filled the room.

"Baby" John spoke softly, "I won't let him hurt you anymore. You're safe with me, and I'll do whatever it takes to ensure that."

His comforting words and his strong embrace provided a temporary respite from the torment. As exhaustion claimed you, sleep finally descended upon your weary mind and body. Unbeknownst to you, John's resolve had been steeled.

As you slept, John quietly slipped away, his footsteps echoing with purpose as he made his way towards your ex's location. The darkness of the night seemed to amplify the intensity of his emotions. Anger simmered beneath his stoic exterior, a force ready to be unleashed upon the person who had dared to threaten the newfound happiness he shared with you.

John's arrival sent a shockwave through your ex's world. The smug arrogance that had permeated his messages quickly evaporated as he realized the true extent of John's determination. Fear replaced bravado, and he attempted to escape from the formidable soldier who now stood before him.

But there was no escape. John, fueled by a protective instinct, pursued your ex relentlessly, his presence an indomitable force that left no room for evasion. "Text my girl ever again and oh boy you wish your mom never gave birth to you" Cornered and overwhelmed, your ex succumbed to his fear and fled, leaving behind the remnants of a broken ego.

As John returned to your side, a mix of relief and admiration washed over him. The confrontation had served its purpose: to ensure your safety and send a clear message to anyone who dared to threaten your peace of mind.

You awoke to find John by your side, his features softened by the moonlight that filtered through the window. His eyes met yours, filled with a blend of tenderness and determination.

"He won't bother you again," John assured you, his voice unwavering. "I'll always protect you, no matter what."

In that moment, as you gazed into the depths of John's unwavering devotion, you knew that you were not alone. With him by your side, you felt a renewed sense of strength and security.

John Price

You had tried to move on from the toxic relationship that had left scars on your heart. But your ex refused to let go, bombarding you with text messages that ranged from desperate pleas to borderline threats. Each message chipped away at your sense of peace and security.

One evening, as you sat with John, sharing the burden of your past, a notification flashed across your phone screen. The words that appeared before you were a cruel reminder of the darkness that still lingered.

Who's that dude you're dating now? You think you can replace me that easily?

Your heart sank as you realized John had caught a glimpse of the message. The look in his eyes, a mix of concern and anger, mirrored the tumultuous emotions raging within you.

John's voice was steady, but determination laced his words. "Baby, I can't stand by and let this continue. He needs to understand that his behavior is unacceptable and that he must leave you alone."

A mix of fear and relief washed over you, knowing that John would go to such lengths to protect you. You nodded, your voice barely a whisper. "I want to move on and leave this behind. But it’s getting so difficult" All night he did nothing but hold you as you cried because the memories kept adding up. And John did nothing but kiss and hold you the entire night.

The next morning, as the sun painted the sky with shades of gold, John prepared to leave for what appeared to be a simple grocery shopping.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly as you waited, anxiety and anticipation mingling within you. Hours passed and just when doubt threatened to seep into your thoughts, you heard the familiar sound of John's footsteps approaching the door.

His face bore the signs of a confrontation, his eyes filled with a mix of exhaustion and determination. John took you in his arms, holding you tightly, as if to shield you from the remnants of the past that clung to your spirit.

"He won't bother you again" he whispered, his voice filled with an unyielding resolve. "I made it clear that his actions were unacceptable. He knows the consequences if he dares to cross that line." and you knew that he went over and made it clear to him to never text you ever again.

Tears welled in your eyes, a mix of gratitude and relief streaming down your cheeks. You gazed into John's eyes, overwhelmed by the love and protection he offered so selflessly.

"I don't know how to thank you, John," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. "You've given me a sense of safety and peace that I thought I had lost forever."

His grip tightened, his voice a comforting reassurance. "You don't have to thank me, my love. It's what love does. It protects and empowers. I won't let anyone hurt you, not while I'm here."

Kyle Garrick

You stood there, reading the text messages that illuminated your phone screen, each word like a dagger to your heart. The messages from your ex, filled with desperation and anger were a painful reminder of a past you desperately wanted to forget. His words were like poison, seeping into your thoughts and threatening to unravel the happiness you had found with Kyle. The man you want to share your life with.

Just as you were about to put your phone away, hoping to bury the unsettling messages deep within your mind, you heard a gasp from behind you. Turning, you saw Kyle, his eyes fixated on the screen, his face a mix of concern and anger.

"Love?" he murmured, his voice laced with sympathy and a fire burning within, "I didn't realize you were going through this. I'm so sorry."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, the pain of the messages threatening to overwhelm you. But Kyle, ever the steadfast protector, closed the distance between you, wrapping his strong arms around you in a comforting embrace.

His words, infused with a fierce protectiveness, resonated within you. As he held you close, you felt a sense of safety and reassurance wash over you, erasing the fear and uncertainty that had plagued your heart.

Days passed and Kyle prepared for his next mission, a dangerous assignment that would take him away from you for a while. But before he left, he made a promise to himself, and to you. He would confront your ex, ensuring that he never dared to disturb your peace again.

As he set out on his mission, he carried with him the weight of your trust and the burning desire to protect you from harm. And when the time came, bruised and battered, he sought out your ex, determined to make him understand the consequences of his actions.

Face to face, Kyle confronted the man who had caused you so much pain, his eyes ablaze with an unwavering resolve. Your ex, taken aback by the sight of Kyle's injuries, cowered before him, realizing the severity of his actions. He pleaded for mercy, promising to leave you alone for good.

Kyle’s voice filled with an authority that brooked no argument, made it clear that any further harassment or threat would be met with severe consequences.

When he finally returned home, weary but determined, you met him at the door. The weight of the past seemed to dissolve as he enveloped you in his arms, the warmth of his embrace erasing the remnants of fear and doubt. In that moment, you knew that together, you could face anything.

After seeing him all bruised up but with a smile on his face, you couldn’t help but jump into his arms. In his embrace, you found healing. The scars of the past fading into insignificance compared to the love that bloomed between you. Together, you would face the challenges that lay ahead, fortified by the strength of your bond and the knowledge that no matter what, you were not alone.

[buckrecs]

hey! Hope you're having a good day!

i was wondering if you can mack a masterlist for bucky x female neighbor?

Neighbor!Bucky

masterlist | req masterlist

EVERYBODY should have a bucky barnes as their neighbor

ONESHOT

Next door neighbor by @buckylattes

Your next door neighbor, Bucky, has been trying to get your attention for a while now, but he fears that he’s taken the whole situation the wrong way. Will you ever give him a chance?

cookies, kisses and such by @stevebabey

All This Time by @jobean12-blog

When you finally meet your new neighbor you can tell you’re going to have a difficult time staying away from him, even though you should.

Bribe the Super by @real-jane

You have a very hot neighbor. He happens to think the same of you.

What Are Friends For? by @gogolucky13

When you threaten to swear off men for good after your last bad date, your neighbor and friend offers to help change your mind.

Day After Tomorrow by @buckyarchives

enhanced hearing is both a blessing and a curse. eavesdropping, loud music, footsteps and when your sweet neighbor has been coughing her pretty head off all day.

do i even have a chance? by @noceurous

you’ve found him and he was sure he didn’t have a chance

just a dream by @itsmeatballworld

Bucky and reader are neighbors in Brooklyn. When reader has a spicy dream about the broody man, it sets off a series of events that ignites something in both of them.

mutual by @buckycuddlebuddy

the windows you were sharing were belong to your bedrooms, and ─okay, it was wrong, bucky knew this but he was only human ─ you sometimes left your curtains open.

valentine by @softlyspector

You're Bucky's neighbor, Bucky is your secret admirer. Valentine's day and a potential date forces him to act.

Foolish Heart by @jadedvibes

You thought Bucky would never want to settle down, but it turns out you were very wrong.

A Very Special Recipe by @straywords

You’re feeling adventurous in the kitchen and your sinfully attractive neighbor has just the ingredient you need for that unique experiment.

Secret Admirer by @bxcketbarnes

Sneaky by @imagine-docx

Being neighbours with a cute boy has some perks. Also, Sam is being the best wingman (no pun intended) he possibly could.

see through by @buckys-black-dress

where bucky's your inconsiderate neighbor, but he's a frequent flyer at the coffee shop where you work, and you're determined to get on his good side.

Gentle Giant by @touchstarvedirl

You and your neighbor Bucky have will we, won’t we thing going on and you devise a plan to get him to tell you how he feels. It doesn’t go according to plan, or does it?

Neighborly by @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

living in the apartment down the hall from Bucky Barnes is definitely not what you expected-and you definitely didn’t expect him to show up bleeding at your door.

blame it in the neighbors by @nev3rfound

having recently moved in next door, you and bucky become fast friends. however, there’s something looming between the two of you and it comes to light when it’s revealed you’re in the hospital.

Can’t Hurt Me by @sweetbbarnes

You're the one that takes care of Bucky after missions, only this time he asks for a different kind of relief.

SERIES

new neighbor by @alisonsfics

being bucky's next door neighbor and slowly getting to know each other and falling in love?

Paper Walls by @writingcroissant

 Your apartment happens to be right next to Bucky's, heads only separated by a paper-thin wall, leading to you witnessing every second of his nightmares. Although, bonding over your late night conversations, you seem to forget that you never even saw him before.

Time after Time by @justsomebucky

When the reader’s parents divorce, her mother moves her to a new town, right next door to Bucky Barnes. This is their love story.

Hey Neighbor by @moonbeambucky

You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right... that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

Teardrops on Lashes by @delicatelyherdreams

After the Chitauri invaded New York and nearly ended your life, you moved to Bucharest to get away from the superhero stuff. You simply wanted an uneventful, ordinary life. But when a stranger moves into the apartment next to yours, you begin to question those aspirations and choose to risk it all for love.

A Friendly Wager by @justsomebucky

Reader and Bucky Barnes are neighbors and best friends. After yet another bad date, reader comes home to find Bucky with his typical weekend target. They decide to make a wager about dating, but is there more on the line than reader cares to admit?

Come Over by @moonstruckbucky

You’re new to New York City. Fresh out of post-grad and wanting a change of pace, and this change comes in more ways than one. 

Keeping Me Up by @writing-for-marvel

When Bucky moves in next door, you seem to get much less sleep than when your previous neighbour lived in apartment 4a.

[dropouttvpollbrackets]

It's time for another mini-bracket!

Alright, so I clearly love me a good bracket - otherwise why would I have started this blog? They're a really good way of narrowing down a big group of contestants to find one ultimate winner, and I, for one, find that very fun! That said, one shortcoming of brackets that's always driven me a bit crazy is that they don't really give you any useful information on runners up. This is because if the second most unhinged person in a bracket judging unhingedness (just for instance) happens to be pitted against the most unhinged person in the very first round, they're out right away and looking at the bracket results won't tell you a damn thing about how unhinged the loser is! On the flip side, a pretty normal person could make it to the semi-finals by just happening to be the craziest person in the most sane quadrant of the bracket!

With this in mind, I've devised a mini-bracket to find the most unhinged loser from rounds 1 and 2 of the main bracket - a sort of unhingedness honorable mention poll, or, as I've been thinking about it, the "whoo boy those hinges are looking rusty as hell and should not be trusted to bear weight" awards. It won't exactly solve the problem of not having a meaningful silver medalist for the main bracket, but it will hopefully give some love to the contestants folks were most disappointed to see go out early (Becca and BDG truthers, I'm looking at you).

The format of this mini-bracket will be the same as the first, with initial polls containing four contestants followed by two rounds of one-on-one polls. Polls will last 1 day. The pool of contestants are all the losers from round 2 and the 8 losers from round 1 who did the worst in the hingedness mini-bracket.

And in the meantime, don't forget to be voting in round 3 of the main poll, which is still live! (I think after this I'm gonna stop with the minis for the rest of this poll but I really wanted to pit these losers against each other first.)

Now, without further ado, let's get round 1 of the Unhinged Honorable Mention Mini-Bracket started!

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

Hiya!! I love this blog sm my god, your writing is just 😘👌 *chefs kiss*

Would it be possible to request Malleus, Lilia, Idia and Riddle having to square up against and strike down (non lethally or lethally whichever you prefer!) their own child that’s gone into severe overblot with no signs of stopping, so it’s best to fight them out of it before they actually kill people and/or level the entire place? Only if you don’t mind doing the angst!

Idia Shroud: 

Idia had already lost his family once. It nearly drove him to inaction, knowing once again his own blood was teetering on the edge and in danger. There had been some more developments on overblot research but not nearly enough that he could devise a foolproof plan that would leave your child in one piece. Idia nearly gnawed through his own lip by the end of the fight, the comatose body of his child in his arms. They have their own special room where they’re being studied further, with Idia hoping they may wake up one day.

Lilia Vanrouge: 

Lilia had felt tragedy in his long life. He had seen his loved ones die tragically, he had been in war watching other people experience grief, but nothing could have prepared him for this. He felt unable to even smile for months, the battle repeating in his head daily, wondering what he could have done differently to save his child. It’s not unusual to deal with this but Lilia felt extra regretful, knowing he might live for hundreds of years with the death of his child hanging over him.

Malleus Draconia: 

His child was a powerful one, and there was no other person who could strike them down but him. He tried to manage his strength but the lives of his people, the lives of his lover, they were all in danger if his child continued to be out of control. He hoped internally that they’d be resilient to his magic, that when their body fell and the overblot seemed to melt away that they’d be okay, but he’s met with a tragic future without his heir.

Riddle Rosehearts: 

Riddle had done everything he could to be a better parent. He thought everything was going to plan but life once again spit in his face, letting him know the precious rules he found solace in was a jail cell for others. He tried to reason with them, tried to talk them down and get them to recognize him, but all traces of his child were gone. He did his job and left to prepare the funeral, appearing almost cold-hearted after their death. He cradled their almost too fragile body in his arms and cried until the medical staff finally ushered him out of the room.

[storgicdealer]

ehehehehehe okay. first things first i figured out a good name for stohio: carteblan (i cannot believe it took me this long ive been calling it stohio for like ? oh my god just over a year now)

anyways yeah.

i havent figured out the exact timeline, but a couple years before victim "came back to life"/escaped the ava1 youtube video (that's a whole other can of worms), stickfigures were just finding out about the existence of other living sticks. in particular, freedom was a rather popular figure as one of the first sticks to break out of stick slavery (many living stickfigures were put to tasks, similar to chosen and second, where it was either do the task or die). freedom specifically was the first to discover the outernet, and quickly provided a link to others online.

he then created the "stick freedom ad" (which earned him his name; prior to this, he was simply known as unti (short for untitled) (sticks having Names outside of their roles was not a common thing yet)). he made this ad and scammed several websites into displaying it without actually paying for it by using fraudulent money (there are a couple very old blog posts and forum posts about the Stick Freedom Ad and what its supposed to mean, since clicking on it leads to an error 404).

as more sticks were freed and entered the outernet, they began to build houses. some sticks that had experience with drawing helped draw the sketches for these houses, which was then built upon using the surrounding resources. this eventually developed into carteblan, the city that mango and purple live in today.

however as time passed the culture in carteblan became a little elitist--- victim-blamey (haha), acting like all sticks should be strong, and turning down their noses on sticks who look a little too different from the norm (like paleo, ballista and hazard) (the norm being hollowheads, fullheads and whiteheads).

like i mentioned in my reblog, the sticks in carteblan began to crave more, lives similar to human lives, and amongst that was a demand for stick children. in my headcanon, sticks cannot reproduce and any sex they have is entirely recreational, so they had to devise another method for having kids. adoption, like mango did with gold in my hc, is the most common way of doing this.

sticks like second, that can draw things to life, are extremely rare (like 1 out of a thousand) in the outernet, but theres a couple thousand people in carteblan as of 2024 so there are a few sticks that can actually draw sticks to life. thus, they do 'kid' commissions where they literally draw a kid to life in exchange for money. there are also some website sticks in touch with their animators who ask their animators do do kid commissions as well for people in the outernet.

wow okay this is long. there are other stick cities too but the two major cities are carteblan and adagia most other sticks live in solitude or on websites ok im done woo

grabs you by the shoulders. falls onto the floor. has a fucking awakening

DUDE.

this is one of the most amazing things ive seen recently that inspired me to make a ramble/srs.

im going to create another part of my ramble series and pin it because of it im fr

foundation of the outernet, development of outernet sticks and creation of living beings

(a ramble made with the help of an immaculate person with amazing ideas)

OH MY GOD?????? FIRSTLY. i need to mention that i ADORE that we both have an idea that outernet was discovered by created internet/pc sticks. that its appearance began to be a place for a whole race to live in. and that its not something that exists completely naturally and independently from it. this is the theory of their origins i believe most right now

freedom being the founder IS SICK. ITS SO FUCKING SICK im rolling on the floor

in my "rules of code" ramble also i supposed sticks being in touch with their creators as well and them also BEING DRAWN!!! by sticks and creators. ill put a screenshot of everything hold on

outernets creation

my thoughts about outernets existence that most of which i think i explained

lives of stickmen and reproduction

my thoughts were about reproduction as well!!!!! its mostly accepted as canon in the fandom that sticks reproduce naturally but i cannot say that it actually is canon. everything that was going on with purple was symbolic and didnt showcase like. natural birth

alan said that for gold to exist king would have to marry a very neon yellow stick.

AND THIS made me confirm my headcanon that stick children are created by parent(s) own code. that they cannot influence it or prefer a color, that their code INHERENTLY has the variety of the color palette and hexcodes embedded into it.

ABOUT the code and colors. (i believe that the colors of sticks mixing up with each others is COMPLETELY code.)

all sticks inherently have a code and a name that gives them associated power. that can be messed with as well by a user (tdl command). its something that ive also talked in my rules of code ramble and mentioned the concept of "levels" and name power hierarchy

the chosen one, created and possessing a grandeu amount of power

the dark lord, also posessing a lot of power (that i dont believe couldve came from the command that was written into them. the command of destroying chosen is a goal that i believe is able to not be achieved)

the second coming, the name of someone that ties them with their predecessor (does make me wonder though how exactly their code made a connection with our chosen. maybe its possible that the name "the second coming" by itself, as a level, implies being a coming of someone powerful)

victim, being quite weak by themselves and not posessing any power by their own and having to rely on pc programs they're aware of.

i believe that being able to code a stick into a specific power and duty is something that could only be achieved and controlled through the feature of the program the stick was created in. in case of outernet, since they dont have access to computer programs and therefore, programs of creation such as adobe they cannot influence or change one's code

when it comes to creation of a stick i truly believe that you are able to give them color by yourself, unless the child is made by connecting it to the codes of its supposed parent(s). they gain hue by either actually taking/mixing up the colors of the parents or by taking one color in case of a sole parent.

(societal thought: its possible that outernet sticks, due to not wanting to have a literal copy and just an extension of themselves and wanting to create an "actual new life" by mixing colours prefer to have children with a partner, and not by themselves only)

have thought that color/code of the stick could be influenced by the parent(s) preferences, like a parent would like to have a kid similar to them and name them the same way (thus resulting/having their hexcode being picked out individually) BUT. i remembered alans words about kings spouse.

that for gold to exist king would need to marry a really neon yellow stick.

would it imply that sticks that subtract parent(s) code cannot influence the color of the stick created? as much as it impossible to influence the features of a born child in our real life, only taking it from parents and letting the nature play a randomizer. and that the only thing that they are able to influence is the shape of their creation?

society of outernet

THE CONCEPT OF STICKS SOCIETY BEING ELITIST ABOUT THIS STUFF. im eating it im not sure what fully do with it yet but im eating it

ive also talked about society there

when talking about creators of mercs king purple and co i was mostly thinking about real users. BUT YOUR CONCEPT OF STICKS BEING DRAWN BY OTHER STICKS AND ME THINKING ABOUT IT AS WELL . THIS IS SO FUCKING AMAZING. this is canon for me IDC!!!!!!

it does, however, make me wonder of their living process. we know that alan's hollowheads are created for a reason, are born aware of themselves, how to walk/run/interact/fight and havent been seen aging or changing. and due to chosen, victim and second surviving a whole bunch of damage that should've killed them, second literally REFUSING to delete, the fate of dark lord being unknown and alan not giving a straight answer about it and, very important: cg as created sticks being unable to actually die and needing only refresh of a page to continue living, having all their memories intact... makes me wonder that stickmen created directly by a human hand are unable to die.

(does make me wonder about another completely different thing. the societal perception. is it acceptable to be in touch with your stick creators? how would it even feel. do they perceive them as a distant relative?? do sticks that are able to create life consider their creations close to them as well??? im imagining something along the lines about detroit stuff with connor&kamski but way less intense)

connection of realms and creation of life

ive rambled A TON about connection of internet and outernet and how sticks especially of outernet could connect and travel between realms. hear ye hear ye.

right now i genuinely believe that stick society advanced so far in the outernet and got to live there that their connection with the internet mightve severed:

sticks of outernet don't physically interact neither with internet/pc programs OR travel there unless they obtained something that could allow them to travel to a pc/internet (the minecraft block and nether portals that seem doing quite fine in the outernet dimension) or have powers that can allow them to break through (chosen and the computer/ip sky which, interestingly, has only been seen broken through on the alanspc ip adress//dark portals to the internet).

given this, there's not a lot of accesible methods of traveling to the internet and most of them are available only to pc sticks.

(except. for king and purple. except for king getting a block from minecraft that was not supposed to be in the outernet from that merchant in his backstory. but it is a whole another can of worms as well)

as far as we've seen sticks that werent exposed to pc and internet tech dont really use or possess any tech that could access it??????? the times where we've seen tech such as computers/phones/tvs/pc and programs interface were always in possession of sticks that came from a pc or were there at least once (hollowheads, the cg, purple) or were entrusted with it from someone that was on a pc (mercenaries). talking about the video used on the tv in "the king" episode... it has never been shown that this video was being shown directly from the youtubes platform either. and that lead me to a thought that outernet sticks might not even interacted with internet's properties except for the tools used to create a life that came along with the foundation of the internet and most likely were developed from tools brought by the first sticks. but the way outernet progressed they might not even know that this stuff is literally from another realm

heck, a daring thought.

in case of outernet being almost completely cut off from its original internet history recent sticks of outernet might not even know of the existence of pcs and internet.

this does however clash with sticks being still created by people and sticks that are able to create life being in touch with them. but its still supposable that only rare sticks with an ability to create life somewhat have a.. gene? passed through to them from some of their ancestors that could've been able to create life. and users dont exactly come into this (also given its unlikely that its a regular experience for a user to be emulated in the outernet world like it was with alans cursor in showdown)

continuing to talk about elitism. again this is such a sick concept

im thinking right now that elitism towards stickmen that arent completely strong/prefer not to engage in fighting due to the progress of their civilization//different kinds of stickmen mightve also came from the original stickmen (im going start coloring this concept now. also this whole is some adam and eve stuff) that were created to fight. we know from our real world that the first appearance of sticks in the internet didnt come from a desire to animate them in a fighting ring but the whole scene and culture of fighting sticks came around pretty quickly. the whole reason avam exists as a series

its possible that while predecessors of original stickmen werent created with fighting in mind the stickmen that discovered the outernet might as well been the first sticks created for fight. and since it isnt a thing that gone away and is most likely embedded into the code of sticks themselves in the avam universe the whole "fighting code gene" mightve been carried over to recent sticks as well. and this elitism exists that even though sticks dont have to fight anymore (to literally survive in most cases) due to the progress of their kind some conservative mfs might believe that "this is what our ancestors intendeeeddd you need to bow to your roots and your existing gene"

the elitism towards kinds of sticks is. god its such a big and very explainable and amazing concept

due to sticks just beginning existing in the internet a long while ago and mostly drawn pretty similarly (since most creators were just exploring how to draw them digitally) the race of stickmen that passed down from original stickmen could've been all just fullheads and whiteheads and perhaps hollowheads?.. im really thinking hard about it because. we havent seen hollowheads in the outernet and the fact that orange didnt even know of their existence anywhere else and even WE didnt up until they saw victim (and were probably quite damn shocked) and the fact it was possibly quite a grand moment to them confuses me.

im not sure for what reason, but the number of sticks of the race of hollowheads might have been reduced in present outernet, only having the ones that posses incredible power survive. (yet. also victim. that does not posses such power. but its a whole another idea on that they could've acquired it through different means and not from power coming from their own self)

or, it just is an avam universe rule that users didnt really think of drawing hollowheads when creating first sticks because it was hard for them to keep track of the background besides their damn hollow head and it was easier to have a stick that covered it fully on another layer LOL

either way, coming back to elitism (this sounds funny out of context), due to original sticks being simply drawn as fullheads whiteheads and possibly hollowheads it was the main race that stickmen were used to creating when drawing a new life. but with the progress of their civilization they started to experiment, eventually inventing new kinds of sticks (the kinds of hazard, ballista and paleo). due to some conservative sticks clinging to their roots they didnt like the difference from the norm.

elitism thought.

even with a possible inability to code a stick into doing something by outernet sticks would people still try to draw a stick with a specific build associated with certain jobs and tasks, trying to force them into a mold of who they are "supposed" to be? like, drawing a stick that resembles a sign (like hazard) and having them work for example as an aircraft marshaller or some other job that requires caution and directive? the grey sticks working in rocketcorp, possibly made as clerks and errand dudes?

..could purple be drawn being stronger and having a greater build than a usual stick would have, therefore disappointing navy when they dont match their expectations of a stick they wanted?

would it be a problem that progressive sticks would try to solve? allowing different kinds of sticks to exist, but not forcing them into a certain shape?

another thing. YOUVE OPENED A GATEWAY TO A SEA OF WORMS BY TELLING ME ABOUT POSSIBLE ESCAPE OF VICTIM FROM A YOUTUBE VIDEO.

my previous ramble (rocketcorp, dimensions and virtual reality) made a theory that victim, in one way or another essentially brought pc programs and tech into outernet, thus obtaining power that is, quite literally, linked with their whole creation. (very symbolic considering their whole power is the one that made their life end so fast) and, due to outernet being cut off from programs and powers of internet and pcs, became a being that literally stood higher than the reality and fabric of the outernet realm itself, possesing power that could possibly meddle with it (mercs cannons literally changing structure and whole being of objects like the corndog stand or literally messing with a sticks state and body with chosen). and i have thought that victim is the one that could use internet itself as one of their grand tools.

and. animation vs youtube. we fucking know. that a stick is able to upload itself and break the interface of internet.

no one said that the original ava video on youtube is the whole thing that victim used to escape.

also. remember me mentioning that the original video of animation vs minecraft wasnt shown to be accessed through youtube. this video looked like it was downloaded having a whole different bar at the bottom and everything. couldve it been downloaded by vic or rocketcorp?

(victim interneted the fucking internet and started showing avam series like their own show. by the way its ALSO a potential scenario i talked about before. that due to potential severing of outernet citizens with the internet the recorded adventures of the cg on pc, internet and minecraft (ESPECIALLY considering that minecraft existed as a fun simulation game on a festival) that was broadcasted could've been interpreted by outernet sticks as fiction. but its an independent funny concept to be thought about and i still didnt fully figure it out)

op.

you cracked my mind open like a walnut and i cannot stop thinking about all of your ideas

oh my god this did so much to me. ive been writing for the past two hours due to how much ideas it gave me. im going to pin this ramble because its very important to me and puts a lot of theories and headcanons in stone. you are my saviour cindersnows and you are probably going to be fucking FLABBERGASTED by the length of this post

sincerely yours storgic "the aspiring matpat of the avam fandom" dealer

[workingclasshistory]

On this day, 9 July 1657, English major-general William Brayne wrote home from Jamaica explaining that some soldiers who had recently arrived were sick and dying from illness. He then requested indentured servants to settle in Jamaica to help establish it as a self-sufficient colony. This straightforward request would not be noteworthy, if it were not for the fact that this letter has been subsequently distorted and misrepresented by white supremacists, Holocaust deniers and neo-Nazis who devised a myth of "Irish slaves" in the Caribbean and North America. One source of the claims is a blog post entitled "Irish slaves in the Caribbean", in which James Cavanaugh claims that in Jamaica, enslaved "Africans received much better treatment, food and housing" than "Irish slaves". He goes on to say: "To end this barbarity, Colonel William Brayne wrote to English authorities in 1656 urging the importation of Negro slaves on the grounds that, 'as the planters would have to pay much more for them, they would have an interest in preserving their lives, which was wanting in the case of (Irish)….' many of whom, he charged, were killed by overwork and cruel treatment." Cavanaugh's description of the letter as well as the supposed quote from it are entirely false, but it has still been cited by many other publications supporting the "Irish slaves" myth, including liberal ones like the Daily Kos. The intention of white supremacists conflating indentured servitude with chattel slavery is to try to blame Black people for their systematic disenfranchisement in the US today, essentially arguing that Irish people were treated far worse but now do not feel the need to complain about "racism". Indentured servitude was a form of bonded labour to which around half of all white settlers came to Britain's 13 colonies. More: https://stories.workingclasshistory.com/article/10904/major-general-brayne-letter Pic: Light-skinned biracial enslaved children, who racists now often claim were Irish. https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=658953892944496&set=a.602588028581083&type=3

[devouringbodies]

Hi there! Love your blog, love your tag system, and was wondering if you could share a bit about #mylimacore and your version of Mischa? I'm so intrigued! (Sorry, of course, if this has already been asked and I simply missed the post. Oops) 🦌

I was so excited to get an ask like this you have no idea. Please if anyone has questions about my tags or actually bothers to look through them ever please tell me cause I could talk about them all day haha. So thank you! I'm sorry in advance for the incoming essay 😂.

cw: cannibalism(obvs), familial abuse and incest

So the vague concept of my AU Mischa has all practically been built off this post originally, some aesthetics and ideas I've brewed on since then, as well as an Amazing conversation I had with @mortuaryboyfriend

A few key things to keep in mind to justify my thought process:

i. How would Mischa, if she lived, go on to process her trauma that she shares with Hannibal?

ii. "No one who survives Hannibal remains morally pure" - thank you to Peter for this statement it has lived in my head rent free since 🖤

Mischa has no characterization, in the novel, nor the film Hannibal rising, she is a faceless, blonde little plot devise that drives Hannibal's motives, but she also, in every sense of the word, haunts Hannibal's entire narrative. So she is basically a blank slate as far as characterization goes, but that's where the fun can happen, as we only have Hannibal to compare to, and the theories on how the experience they share would impact them if they had each other to lean on.

Hannibal has said that he "forgave" Mischa her influence on him. What "influence"? Well, in the novel, Mischa is the only thing Hannibal ever loves, he knew he was different since he was young and she was the first thing to make him feel literally anything. Bedelia in the show references the association Hannibal has with love, comparing both Will and Mischa, how it's an influence and its connotation is it makes him feel betrayed by himself, as if these feelings are a burden. So I imagine Mischa and Hannibal growing up together, with Hannibal having this ever growing resentment, but simultaneous unconditional love for Mischa. On the flip side, I imagine Mischa, a child praised and adored and perceived perfect in every way, who would grow and eventually sense her brother's torment. I see them forming an extremely codependent relationship in the wake of their trauma, and Mischa, so desperate to keep her brother, would quite possibly forgive him all his trespasses, actions, and love him for his inner monster all the more, cause he's hers, he protected her.

It's in this vein that we grow her character from here. I see her ultimately as morally grey/teetering towards evil. I'm unsure if she would ever have Hannibal's appetite, but she would love and support him regardless, I see her as being bemused by his games, but viciously protective and vengeful over him. Hannibal loves to play his games with everyone, and she would go along of course, but I think she would have difficulty with restraint if anyone got too close, and would lash out and murder without hesitation if Hannibal was threatened. Hannibal often says she's "ruining his fun". But there's a degree of spoiledness she can't help, she's his doting little sister after all.

It's also in this vein of fierce protectiveness of each other combined with their trauma-born codependency that I truly think they would spiral into something incestuous eventually. They would never, ever let another person get close to the other, and they would fulfill all of each other's needs I think. They both would be capable of living without romance or sex for their entire lives I'm sure, specifically and especially Hannibal, but I can't see them having that moral boundary personally, so for them I imagine it would just be an inevitable step.

Now diving into some of my own personal headcanon's for Mischa.

I think she would share Hannibal's love for the arts, though she would grow bored of the historic gab about it Hannibal favors quickly. I think she'd be more physical. I see her as a dancer, particularly Ballet, or into high theater arts, Shakespeare and classical tragedies.

I see her as this almost dual pointed sword of a character. She is so perfectly revered as a child forever in canon-Hannibal's mind, so I love the idea of this juxtaposition of her as this pure, innocent beauty, who often in reality is sensuous, cruel and violent. Hence my swan/black swan motifs. She lives in this spectrum of perceived innocence, but has brambles and thorns bubbling up inside her.

I made this post and decided that swans was my own personal visual motif for her, as black swans are mentioned on the Lecter estate and brought up a couple times throughout the book Hannibal Rising. The way that white swans represent innocence and purity vs the temptation and depravity of the black swan. It seemed fitting.

Also.

When thinking about Mischa in-canon narratively, as I mentioned, she seemed to haunt Hannibal's story. So when I stumbled across the concept of "black swan theory" - a metaphor that means "something that isn't supposed to exist, an impossibility," when applying that to my AU, where Mischa, who's character is a ghost in every sense, but made real against the odds, changing both everything and nothing, it felt extraordinarily apt.

Speaking of, as far as "how she survives" to quote Hannibal, I'm vague on those details lmao. BUT I know it involves cannibalism because it has to. It always has to. Whether some miracle sickness or woe befalls the brutal men who hold them captive and the children must eat them, or they get dispatched some other way and Hannibal has to start cutting his fingers off for Mischa and him to gnaw on (he starts with that extra one of course 😂) I know that it still involves cannibalism in some way.

So that's basically it! Again she's still mostly kinda just this vague blob idea in my head that has very specific Vibes. But hopefully this explains it a bit better. So sorry that this is way more than you asked for, but I get carried away lol ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Thank you for the wonderful ask though! Have a great day 🖤

Also here are a few mood pieces from my Mischa Pinterest board too, just for funsies. Cause this post isn't long enough already, obviously.

Also linking my other previous posts that mention her cause tumblr has apparently ate my Mischa lecter tag </3

[sgiandubh]

In limbo

I am still here, although in a farcical situation, to say the least.

You live, you learn: I had no idea such a thing as shadow banning existed. And yet, here we are: I can read you and hope you can still read me, but I am unable to access my DMs & asks, or comment on your posts. My likes are shadows, accounted for but never showing up and all the comments I ever wrote are wiped out completely.

It all started with a flock of porn blogs adding me to their follow list and with a strange glitch that lasted about one minute. A couple of hours later and out of the blue - in limbo.

So I educated myself a bit, paged Support and I am not holding my breath, on this eve of Independence Day. It is frustrating as hell and it could either be related to a site glitch (most probably) or reporting (enough said: I never negotiate with fools). With a bit of luck, it should all be back to normal; but when, now that's another story entirely.

So I am stuck, for the moment, but actively looking for solutions and even devising a plan B. I will continue posting, if at all possible.

In the meanwhile, I am sharing with you a picture of the once formidable Candacraig House in Maymyo, Burma- the only Scottish hill station of the British Raj. This was taken by me in 2010, when it was still possible to visit and even spend the night there. It is a place of endless melancholy and grace, where you can find the finest strawberry jam and the best hand knitted Argyle jumpers east of Suez.

[weissflower]

one of these times Dad really just has to let Son clean this space station sounds dirty as hell.

[cilil]

All tied up in July

AN: @tolkienpinupcalendar here I go for July! This one was a bit on the fence regarding main vs dead dove blog, but since the stuff that actually happens is pretty mild and I don't censor myself much here anyway, I figured it's fine.

⛓ Prompt: Getting tied up + being left alone | Melkor x Manwë ⛓ Synopsis: Manwë is desperate for some closeness with his brother. Melkor decides to play a little game to test him ⛓ Warnings: Nudity, dubiously consensual bondage, slight incestuous undertones, unhealthy sibling dynamics, Melkor ⛓ Short oneshot (~700 words)

"Please, brother, will you not spend time with me?" 

The look Melkor gave him was enough to show Manwë how foolish he had once again been, even before notes of disdain and derision poisoned the song of their bond. Time and time he ventured out to find his brother and attempt to talk to him, play with him, be with him, anything to get to know him better, and he was always rejected with various levels of cruelty. 

He had gotten so used to it that it came as a surprise when he found Melkor sitting cross-legged on a pile of rubble he had most certainly been the cause of, watching him attentively instead of pelting him with rocks, ice or fire. 

"Brother?" Feeling hopeful, Manwë approached him. He smiled. 

Melkor did not. "No," he said firmly when the other Vala came too close for comfort. "Stay where you are." 

Manwë froze immediately, not wanting to upset him or the fragile peace between them, and it seemed that it pleased his brother to see him obey. 

"It may be your lucky day today," Melkor announced. 

"You do want to spend time with me? What will it be? What would you like to do?" Manwë asked eagerly. 

"Hush." Melkor eyed him up and down. "We shall play a little game."

"What kind of game?"

"One of my own devising to see if you can be good and nice to me."

Manwë cocked his head to the side. "What do you mean? And what do you want me to do?" 

"Do as I say, and you will see," was the cryptic answer he received. "Now undress." 

"But why?"

"Because I say so." Melkor narrowed his eyes at him. "And if you really want to be my brother, you wouldn't mind me seeing you like that, would you? After all that is only our natural state."

"Of course," Manwë hurried to say and began removing his robes. To him, his brother's words seemed wise and true. 

"Next put your hands behind your back and hold still." 

He obeyed, even when Melkor vanished to reappear behind him and something hard and cold wrapped around his wrists and upper body to restrain him, like living ice freezing him in place. 

"Brother, what–"

"Fold your wings." 

Manwë acquiesced again, though unhappily so, and soon felt them being bound as well. 

"Lie down and keep your legs together." 

"...as you wish."

And thus the Elder King found himself on the ground at his brother's feet, tied up and restrained by the power of someone greater than he, cold biting into his skin and movement nigh impossible. 

"Good," Melkor said. "And now you will stay like this for a time while I take care of my work." 

He leaned down, nearly folding his fána in half in the process, to whisper Manwë's ear. "If you behave, I may even be willing to cuddle you like Námo and Irmo do." 

"I would love that." 

Manwë did his best to lie completely still as Melkor left him behind to show him how hard he was trying to please him. It wasn't easy for a spirit of wind and air to remain in one place, and even less so to be bound. In fact, he couldn't recall ever having been restrained like this before. Strong bonds holding him in place regardless of whether he wanted to move or not, keeping him grounded. 

He was helpless. And somehow he didn't mind. The thought that his beloved brother had finally stopped rejecting him filled his spirit with euphoria. Maybe he would even get to be close to him, if Melkor felt like keeping his word. 

Maybe he would be touched. And it would be his hands rather than some sort of spell. Maybe they would feel warm rather than cold, gentle rather than cruel. Maybe Melkor would let him see his naked fána as well, allow them to be as intimate as they should have always been. 

Manwë continued to hold still, humming a quiet melody to keep himself calm. Despite the withering cold gripping him, the thought of being near his brother made him feel strangely warm. 

Thanks for reading! ♡

taglist: @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @uruk-thighs @i-did-not-mean-to @melkors-big-tits

@melkors-defense-attorney @numenhore @urwendii

[use-your-telescope]

When Everything's Made to be Broken - Chapter 10: What Keeps You Up at Night

Summary: When Loki’s nightmares keep him awake, he discovers he might not be the only insomniac around.

Author's Notes: This chapter has a song-within-a-song/bonus song/song-ception (get it, like Inception, but with songs? Okay, I’ll see myself out). My parents listened to the vinyl record of James Taylor Live ALL THE TIME when I was a little kid (and that was when records were the norm - cassettes were considered “the hip new thing” lmao) and I fell in love with the live version of Sweet Baby James. The original recording just feels so stiff and rigid in comparison. Anyways, even if you don’t normally listen to the accompanying songs, I’d really recommend it for this chapter - Ghosts is actually a really soft, dreamy track, and Sweet Baby James is a delightful lullaby. 

If you enjoy, please reblog!! I'm a lil' blog and reblogs really help me out <3

Content Warnings: None? 

Word Count: 4,890

Read on AO3 | When Everything's Made to be Broken Masterlist

Song: Ghosts - Lydia

Bonus Track: Sweet Baby James (Live) - James Taylor

I saw Jesus on your back, he's starting to scream He's screaming no, oh, oh no, you've got to believe me So I whispered softly I got this girl here by my side, what else do I need? You got your wars up in their minds so they can hardly see But I'll be singing for free…

Nightmares plagued the Avengers.

Between the nature of their work and the baggage they brought to their roles, it was practically a prerequisite to suffer from nightmares. 

And yet, for all the brains and knowledge among them, no one had devised a method to get rid of the damned things.

Loki tossed and turned in bed. The mad titan haunting his sleep wasn’t new, but for some reason it left his mind racing in a way he wasn’t used to. He was restless - stretching his legs out and contracting into a ball and twisting every which way in hopes of finding a tolerable position for sleeping. And yet, he could not find anything remotely comfortable. 

Eventually, insomnia claimed its victory, and Loki accepted defeat. Uninterested in dwelling on his night terrors, Loki climbed out of bed; if nothing else, perhaps a change of scenery might calm his racing mind. Regardless, it was preferable to remaining in his quarters like a caged beast.

Loki stalked down the hall with a book in hand; in the dark, only the rustle of fabric as Loki’s clothes brushed together with each step filled the air. It wasn’t until he rounded the corner that he detected any sign of life - delicate, soft chords from a piano, coming from another room. Before he realized it, Loki followed the sound, each chord growing louder as he approached a door. When he was only a few steps from the door, he heard a lilting, floating voice dance above the music, though the melody sung was unfamiliar. 

Despite the dark, Loki recognized his location - it was the entrance to Theo’s quarters. He stopped in front of the door to listen. Was it truly Theo performing, or was the music just recorded? The pitches and rhythms were far more precise than one typically heard with live music, and even without understanding the words, emotion poured out from each note. It seemed too perfect to be live, but something about the way the sounds echoed from beneath the door maintained a special sort of quality that could not be captured with Midgardian recording technology. Was this a recording, or was this what she sounded like when she performed?

For a moment, Loki debated whether or not to investigate. Would it be appropriate to knock on the door and satisfy his curiosity, or should he continue on his way, perhaps asking about what he heard at a later time? 

However, barely a moment passed before he went from pondering the appropriateness of knocking to debating if he was even capable of social interaction. There had been too many nightmares and sleepless nights as of late, and he knew too well that the approaching anniversary of the Battle of New York likely was at the source. When exhaustion wore him down, he had a tendency to be rather irascible; pressing that upon someone else would be cruel.

Immersed in the jumbled mass of thoughts, Loki was so distracted that he did not notice the sudden absence of piano, or the footsteps approaching. 

At the sudden movement of the door swinging open, Loki startled. Across its threshold, Theo offered an inquisitive look.

“I thought I sensed your magic.” Theo offered a quick, sheepish smile before glancing down the darkened halls. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry - I can be quieter.” 

“No… I couldn’t sleep,” Loki admitted, keeping his voice low. “I heard something coming from your quarters while on my way to the sitting room to read. I was debating whether to investigate the source.”

“Ah,” Theo nodded, then pursed her lips. “Do you want to come in? It looks like you were going to go read on your own, but, uh, sometimes company can be nice when you can’t sleep.” She stepped a bit further into the hall, still watching Loki. 

Loki paused for a moment, unsure of whether to accept her offer. If she was inviting him to join, she likely had no intention of seeking out sleep herself. He might be expected to carry on a conversation. With how tired he was and the tempest in his mind, the risk of his shortened temper rearing its ugly head was high enough that he wondered if entering would put the tentative friendship they struck up at risk. 

“We don’t have to talk - you can read your book and I’ll go back to playing piano–” Theo stammered, her eyes widening as she spoke. “– Or you don’t have to come in. Sometimes people like to be alone. No pressure.”

Ultimately, the friendly, nervous look she held was enough to draw him in. 

Attempting to give the impression that he was not taken aback by her offer, he simply shrugged and nodded, then allowed Theo to lead him into her quarters. 

Each team member’s quarters provided a unique snapshot into who they were, and Theo’s quarters were no exception. Stepping inside, Loki took the opportunity to soak in every detail. What he found was a far cry from what he expected – in fact, it seemed to be a sharp departure from how she presented herself around other people whatsoever. 

Soft, golden light bathed the room, creating a relaxing ambiance. Notes of vanilla and something spiced filled the air, likely from the assortment of candles strewn about the room. 

In one corner of the sitting room stood an upright piano, with sheet music scattered across the top and stacked next to the piano bench. Perched atop the piano was a turquoise vase full of sunflowers - the combination seemed familiar to Loki, although he couldn’t quite place it.  Next to her window, a drawing table sat covered in sketch pads, paint tubes, paint supplies, and pencils, while an easel sat to the left with what appeared to be a first layer of paint. 

Along one wall, a trio of guitars hung; below the guitar trio, there were shelves with assorted cases, stands with instruments, and assorted microphones, as well as crates of records and a record player. Her shelves were jammed full of books that had post-it notes marking pages. Loki couldn’t help but smile at the sight of a book open on the coffee table, pages filled with notes scrawled in the margins. 

Unlike her wardrobe, her space burst at the seams with rich, vivid color - a deep teal sofa sat in the center of the room atop a burgundy Turkish rug, while bright paintings adorning the saffron yellow walls. Throughout the room, wildflowers in vases decorated various surfaces, while lush plants hung from the ceiling by elaborately knotted macrame hangers. Draped across the sofa was a thick, plush, forest green blanket, while a rust orange throw pillow sat in the corner; based on their position, it looked like Theo spent most of her time sleeping on the sofa.

Loki picked up the pillow and raised an eyebrow at Theo.

“What? It’s a comfy couch for naps.” She shrugged before turning away from and sitting down at the piano bench. Loki set the pillow aside before taking a seat of his own, stretching his legs out and opening his book.

“Your quarters are very… vibrant.” Loki observed. 

“You sound surprised.” Theo chuckled, turning to give him a bright smile - something he hadn’t seen much of. Many clever, wry, and playful smiles - but not one that was bright.

“I simply wasn’t expecting quite so much color.” He shrugged, allowing his eyes another tour of the space. 

“I think I have enough color in here to make up for the rest of the tower’s lack of color.” Theo laughed, spinning around on the piano bench to face him. “I wanted a place that would make me feel happy. So when I was told I could design my own suite, I tried to think of things that would lift my spirits - and well, it’s hard to be sad when you’re surrounded by rich colors and things that feel cozy.”

“How did you decide what elements to include?”

“I tried to think of good memories.” She gave a shy smile, pointing to the plants. “My roommate in college was a huge plant person - had dozens of plants in our cramped dorm room. I loved my high school art classes, which introduced me to my favorite painter, so I tried to pick colors that he would use in his paintings.”

“And who is your favorite painter?”

“Van Gogh.” Theo smiled, pointing at a book on the coffee table. “Post-impressionist. He’s amazing.”

Loki nodded, continuing to absorb the room around him. 

“I see…” Loki trailed off. “Well, it certainly is a cozy space.”

Theo beamed. “It’s my little oasis.”

After a beat, Theo spun back to the piano, leaving Loki to read. Even without discussion, the discord that plagued Loki was long forgotten, instead replaced with a sense of peace that felt almost foreign. Frankly, there weren’t many places that Loki could think of that felt quite so comfortable.

Eventually, his attention fell to a pair of curtains. While each Avenger’s quarters was unique, they all shared a similar layout, which meant Loki knew where all the doors and windows were located; there should not have been any doors or windows where the curtains fell.

“What is behind those curtains?”

Theo stopped playing for a moment and glanced over her shoulder.

“The secrets of the universe.” She shrugged casually, her nonchalant tone a pleasant change from her usual wariness. “Jokes aside, it’s a portal to my grandma’s farm. She lives far enough away that even taking an airplane to visit her would take a full day, and she needs a lot of help keeping up the place. Keeping a portal like this makes it easy to go back and forth between places quickly, especially if there’s an emergency.”

Once she resumed playing, it wasn’t long before Loki’s eyes began to droop. Meanwhile, Theo’s fingers danced across the keys; after a little while, Loki caught her singing softly.

“Now the first of December was covered with snow / yes and so was the turnpike between Stockbridge and Boston / now the Berkshires seemed dreamlike on account of bad frosting / with ten miles behind me, and ten thousand more to go, you know…”

She played with such tenderness, each note tumbling from the piano with delicacy as her voice floated through the air. Listening to her play felt like he was being let in on some kind secret – he didn’t even need to listen to the words to get a sense of what the songs were meant to be about.

“There’s a song that they sing when they take to the highway / a song that they sing when they take to the sea / a song that they sing of their home in the sky / maybe you can believe it, if it helps you to sleep / but singing seems to work fine for me…”

Despite his best attempts to stay awake, he began to slide down to lay on the couch as he read. It wasn’t long before Loki’s eyes fluttered close, resting his book on his chest. He told himself that he was just taking a moment to soak in the music. After all, Theo was incredibly talented, and the music was far more effective at soothing his weary mind than reading.

“So goodnight all you moonlight ladies / and rockabye sweet baby James / deep greens and blues for the colors I choose / won’t you let me go down in my dreams / and rockabye sweet baby James…”

He may not have been ready to sleep, but for once sleep won him over. 

I just followed the birds right to the coast Hoping she would follow my footsteps like some kind of ghost Whispering close We're not here for long, let's live for this week ‘Cause I'm so goddamn sick of losing my sleep Yeah, she'll be my defeat

There was an Asgardian prince out cold on Theo’s couch.

The realization seemed almost absurd - Theo nearly laughed aloud when she considered the situation in that way. Most of her life seemed absurd, to be fair, but this was one of the absurd moments that seemed almost funny. 

In a less absurd sense, her friend crashed on her couch. 

It was nowhere near a surprise to find Loki lurking about the halls late at night - given the number of times they hung out after Theo finished work, Theo kind of assumed Loki was a night owl. But something about the bags that hung beneath his eyes and the hint of tension wound up in his shoulders gave Theo the sense that Loki’s nocturnal tendencies weren’t exactly his preference. 

That was to say, Theo suspected that Loki had nightmares.

Nightmares were a phenomenon Theo intimately understood. Beyond experiencing more than her fair share of them, she learned about the neurological and psychological processes behind them as a student. Sometimes it was comforting to think about nightmares in a clinical sense - having an explanation that removed the emotion from the experience made it easier for Theo to distance herself from what waking up in a complete disarray actually felt like.

Silently rising to her feet, Theo carefully retrieved the book from Loki’s chest, jotting a quick note on a piece of paper before using the note to mark the page. With the book deposited safely on her coffee table, she covered Loki with the blanket that sage left draped on the couch. Loki didn’t look like he was going anywhere, so it seemed like the polite thing to do. She stole a glance at his face, but found her gaze lingering. Inky black curls spread on the velvet pillow, porcelain skin that held no tension, the perfect pout of slightly open lips - it was something out of a renaissance painting. 

If it hadn’t been weird, she’d have taken a picture so she could try and paint it later, but he was, at best, a friend - the request would have certainly creeped him out.

A quiet snore interrupted the thought.

Yes, the prince was definitely out cold.

With a quiet sigh, Theo returned to her seat and resumed playing. She let her fingers dance along the keys, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath as she tried to steady herself.

She wasn’t sure where the impulse came from to invite him in, but once the offer tumbled from her mouth she knew there was no turning back. Really, she was lucky he fell asleep so fast, because she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to have a conversation.  A gnawing, frenetic energy had been collecting in her chest ever since she moved into the tower, and trying to explain it would have been a nightmare in itself. 

After three nights of waking up in a cold sweat, heart pounding in her chest and gasping for air, Theo’s solution was simply to avoid sleep.

Was it healthy? Absolutely not. Would it come back to bite her in the ass later on? Of course it would. But for the time being, it was better than the alternative.

She had, at one point, debated using the portal to go home - sit out on the dock, stare at the Michigan skies. But that carried the risk of running into Max or Mémère, and they would immediately know what she was trying to do. Max would remind her that she was a doctor and she knew better, that she had to take care of herself and practice what she preached, all in a tone that danced between exasperated and condescending. Mémère would take a different approach - she would try to inquire about what the nightmares were about, try to make sense of them. The woman was a seer, so it was inevitable that she’d try to divine something from the nightmares.

Theo regularly tried to remind Mémère that seeing and divination were not powers she inherited, but oftentimes Mémère would offer a coy smirk and say something that would make Theo try to divert the conversation. 

She certainly had a knack for making Theo squirm.

The first hints of sherbet in the sky came far too quickly for Theo’s liking. It wouldn’t be long before the rest of the world came to life, and she’d have to tamp down her anxieties for a bit longer.

In the meantime, maybe she’d finally make use of her balcony for her morning coffee, and for once try to actually enjoy the sun coming up.

Either way, she needed to figure out what to do so things wouldn’t be awkward in the morning.

‘Cause when I'm dead and I'm gone, Just burn me up to the sun I've got a couple more years here, I want nothing but you, dear When I stare at the ceiling at 5 o'clock in the morning I got one thing that's on my mind - got so much to do before we die  Yeah if I survive So live it up, kid, live it real good, As you should We both know, could be gone tomorrow So tell me what keeps you up at night,  Keeps you from closing your eyes Keeps you alive

Rich, golden light that bathed the room greeted Loki when he awoke. The first thought that came to mind was that he was not in his quarters; after a moment, the events of the previous night returned to his memory - Theo inviting him in, listening to her play the piano as he read… and then nothing. He must have dozed off while reading.

Despite how the first half of the evening played out, Loki awoke feeling as though he’d slept peacefully through the night, with no nightmares, no tossing and turning - nothing. Just peaceful sleep. Frankly, he couldn’t remember the last time he slept so well.  

Loki glanced down to find the plush blanket that originally sat on the back of the sofa now covered him, and it appeared to have been tucked in, as if Theo covered him before she went to bed.

The concept brought an odd warmth to Loki’s chest.

Without any distraction, Loki used the opportunity to reexamine his surroundings. In the light of day, Theo’s quarters burst with even more life; it was as if the sun magnified new details in the elements which Theo pointed out to him the night before. The half-finished paintings in the corner shared stylistic elements with her favorite artist. Between the scattering of music, note-filled novels, the mismatched assortment of plants, and surfaces cluttered with odds and ends, there lived a certain sense of homeliness that seemed intentional in how it countered the often sterile, cold nature of the hospitals in which Theo worked and of Avengers Tower.

On the coffee table, Loki spotted the book he fell asleep reading, appearing perfectly at home amidst the assortment of items covering the table. Amidst the pages, he found a note jotted on a piece of paper and stuck between the pages as a bookmark: 

“See? Comfy couch. :)”

Beside the book, he noticed another note.

“I’m on the balcony with two cups of coffee. One’s for you if you want it.” 

Loki took the second note as an invitation. Once he folded the blanket and draped it neatly over the back of the couch, he made his way over to the balcony door and slid the glass to the side. 

A plethora of plants, as well as a bistro table and two chairs, adorned the balcony; the contrast of the greenery to the concrete of the city felt lush, a true oasis amidst the urban environment.

Sure enough, Theo sat there, two mugs of steaming coffee on the bistro table. She hunched over the table writing in some kind of book, oblivious to Loki’s arrival.

He cleared his throat. “Good morning.”

Theo’s head shot up to find Loki standing there, watching her work.

“Oh! Good morning…” She smiled at him. “Sleep well?”

Loki nodded, stepping out into the morning sun. “Well enough.”

“You were out like a light,” Theo chuckled, a grin curling over her lips as her eyes sparkled. “Even snored a little-”

“Lies and slander.” Loki cut her off, trying to avoid the hint of a smile that was twitching at his lips.

“You did!” Theo exclaimed, now outright laughing. “You even had a little drool right there.” She pointed to the corner of her lip, winking at Loki.

Loki rolled his eyes. “I think I’d take my coffee to go, if you please.”

“Drama queen.” Theo pushed a mug towards him. “Grab a seat – it’s nice out here right now.”

Loki accepted the invite, sitting down and taking the mug from the table. Theo went back to writing in her book, occasionally pausing as she scrunched her face up in thought. Loki observed as she worked. On the page sat a grid, some parts filled in with numbers, while others were blank. Theo was filling in other numbers in some kind of a pattern – it must have been some kind of puzzle. 

“Have you ever done a sudoku?” Theo didn’t even look up from what she was doing as she asked the question.

“I’m not familiar.” Loki hesitated, wondering if she might tease him for the lack of familiarity with this ‘sudoku.’

“It’s a number puzzle,” she explained, flipping to a new page and showing him a blank puzzle. “The goal is to have the numbers one through nine in each row, column, and square without having any duplicates.”

Loki hummed, studying the grid before him.  “So that would be a four,” he pointed to one of the spaces; Theo filled the space in. It didn’t take long for him to have the majority of the puzzle solved - he would point to the square, tell Theo the answer, and she’d fill it in.

“You learn quickly.” Theo observed, leaning back in her seat as she wrote in the final number.

“In certain instances, I suppose I learn quickly,” Loki corrected her, “There are other puzzles that I’m still learning to solve.” 

Theo certainly was a puzzle - one that Loki found himself trying to solve. Perhaps that was what drew him to her: every time he thought he figured out something about her, she’d show him something new and a layer of complexity would be added to the mix.

Theo gave him a hesitant smile, glancing back down at her puzzle book.

“You’re reading the Blind Assassin - what do you think?” Theo spoke up, apparently familiar with the novel that Loki fell asleep reading.

“So far, it’s intriguing.” Loki took a sip of coffee, allowing his attention to move to the skyline. “Have you read it before?”

“I have - once you get through it the first time, read it again - it’s amazing how much more you pick up.” She glanced up from her puzzle, setting down the pencil as she picked up her own coffee and took a drink. “Atwood is brilliant like that - spins so many subtle clues into the story and so many layers. Everyone talks about the Handmaid’s Tale, which is good, don’t get me wrong - but I’ve always enjoyed The Blind Assassin more myself.”

This tidbit of information was certainly enticing - both regarding the story, but also regarding Theo’s taste in literature.

“I look forward to finishing,” Loki glanced over at her, smiling as he dipped his chin in a nod. “I’ll certainly let you know my thoughts.”

“What’s next on your reading list?”

“I’m not certain…” Loki shrugged, stretching out a bit in the chair. “Do you have any recommendations?”

“I might, but given you’ve been around for a millennia I suspect you’ve already read everything I’ve read and then some…” Theo pointed out, which brought a wider smile to Loki’s face. “Maybe you can make some recommendations. I’m guessing you have a variety of favorites that I’ve probably never even heard of.”

“Perhaps I will make you a list.” Loki said, giving Theo a quick wink. 

After a bit more back-and-forth on literature, the conversation reached a lull. The bustle of the city echoed from below, creating a quiet wash of sound between the pair. They’d reached a point where they were comfortable with silence between them, and that morning was no different. Still, there was something about the quiet of the early morning, the personal nature of the space they occupied, that felt different in a way Loki couldn’t quite put his finger on. 

Even if he couldn’t explain it, he found he didn’t mind. It felt… Natural. Easy. Comfortable.

Loki caught himself studying Theo. She focused on some spot in the distance, staring off as though deep in thought. Even though she offered a warm, bright smile to him the night before and some light, playful banter when he first stepped outside, as she sat in the morning sun there was something heavier in her demeanor. There was a certain slump in her shoulders, and the bags beneath her eyes were obvious.

She hadn’t been sleeping either. What was it that kept her awake at odd hours? Was she like Loki, suffering from nightmares? Or simply unable to fall asleep?

It wasn’t the sort of question he could outright ask - she would undoubtedly shut down.

“You are quite the musician,” Loki remarked, hoping to direct the conversation in a manner where he might glean something notable regarding her nocturnal schedule. “Do you always rehearse at such late hours?”

“I’m not that good, but thanks.” Theo blushed, but kept her eyes on the horizon. “I don’t always wait until it’s that late, but things have been busy lately and it helps me unwind… I figured it was my best chance at avoiding interruptions.”

He interrupted her.

“I apologize, I did not mean to–”

“Oh no, I invited you in.” Quick to dismiss him, Theo flashed a nervous smile. “You didn’t interrupt anything.”

At surface level, it did not seem to be a lie - and yet, Loki couldn’t help but sense there was more to it than simply not wanting others to notice.

“You play quite a collection of instruments,” Loki remarked, hoping the continued conversation might distance them from the uneasiness. “Most Midgardians only play one instrument, if any. Why is that?”

One corner of Theo’s lips quirked up in a smile. “Came from a musical family.”

“You have quite a bit of musical talent,” he observed, “Am I remembering correctly that you’ve been nominated for awards for your performances?”

Theo’s expression shifted to something more pensive. She leaned forward in her seat, resting her elbows on her knees as both hands wrapped around her coffee mug.

“I was a backing musician on a pop record.” She let out a dismissive chuckle, then brushed her hair back over her shoulder. “It wasn’t my talent that got the grammy nomination. I needed some cash when I was in my residency and a friend connected me.” 

She wasn’t telling the full story, but he refrained from pushing the subject; perhaps at a later date, he could revisit the matter.

“Do you play any instruments?” Theo turned the questions back to Loki, a curious glint flashing in her eyes. 

“I play the violin and piano, among other instruments,” Loki answered, “All nobility of Asgard were expected to study music in some capacity. Thor was an atrocious musician, but I rather enjoyed myself, so I studied a few instruments and vocal performance.”

“Maybe sometime I can hear you?” Theo suggested, taking a sip of her coffee. “You’ve now heard me twice - first at my band’s show, and last night. Turnabout’s fair play.”

“Perhaps.” Loki conceded. It had been a considerable time since he’d entertained an audience, and starting with someone with Theo’s talent seemed like a risky proposition. “I would like to hear you play again sometime, ideally on your own.” He gave her an earnest glance. “Perhaps not in the middle of the night though…I do apologize for falling asleep on you, by the way.”

“It’s fine - we both know sleep is important, and you looked pretty tired. Besides, I may have switched to playing songs that were good for falling asleep… So if anything, that’s on me.” Theo dismissed his comment with a smile and a wink. “And who knows? Maybe the fact you were half-asleep helped me sound better.”

“No,” Loki countered, leaning forward to rest one hand on her knee before he could stop himself. “I’m quite certain you sound wonderful regardless of when you play. Besides, you deserve to have an audience who’s awake for the full performance.”

Theo stilled, tugging her lower lip between her teeth as she mulled over Loki’s request.

“Maybe if there’s another day where the rest of the team is out… maybe then.” On the surface it didn’t seem like much, but Loki knew it was as generous as it was important.

Loki beamed.

“I look forward to it.”

Love, happy, my love Got this all in my blood Need her close enough like ohh— Love, happy, my love They said it came from above Ha, yeah that's where it's from

[srbachchan]

DAY 5517

Jalsa, Mumbai               Mar 25/26,  2023                Sat/Sun  8:38 AM

★ 　 　　　　　　　 ☆　　　★ 　 　　　　　　　 ☆　　　✿　　　　　★　　　*　　　☆　 　　♡　 　 　　★　✿　*　　★　　　*　　　☆　　★　　　*　　　☆✿ 　*　 *　 　　♡　　　　　★　　　　★　*　 *　 　　♡　　　　　★ 🪔 .. March 26th is the birthday of Ef Maryam Roustaeiyanpour from Iran 🇮🇷 .. and we wish her a happy one .. long time no see .. but ever remembered , specially her wonderful works of art she used to display on the Blog .. love and we hope you're well and safe ..

the night of the writing of the Blog missed .. wanted the Chat GPT to give an example of how it can devise the secretarial concept for the B , but did not attempt it .. so was intertwined with dragons and their fire power ..

the injuries heal slowly and today hope the effort is enough to climb the board and wave to the well wishers at the GATE .. being away from them that have such sincerity with them is not approved in any manner .. the life and the breath of the well wisher is supreme .. they live so I live ..

gratitude in abundance to the ‘comments’ on the Discus at the bottom of the B .. and the desire to attempt to reply all .. but having started that thought long ago in the early stages of the B, it gradually became difficult and time consuming .. so .. kept away ..

a few that get response i give .. nothing partial or remotely sectioned off .. but in an earnest desire to be with all in all .. your comments prove the life of the B .. many say the numbers have fallen gradually .. but the will remains .. even if there is just 1 , it shall be accepted and loved .. 1 is enough .. 

there is merit in the early meal .. early bed .. and early rise ..

the energy stumbles out of its lethargic manifestation and wallops the back to get up and go .. get up and go the tag line of the City of Mumbai .. no matter what it pushes one to its extreme , each hour .. the City is blessed .. it provides .. it does not disappoint .. it takes its time for reward .. but it does ..

there was in the 50′s and the 60′s an Air India Ad, by Bobby K of their advertising management and which I encountered each day on my way to Univ ., at a strategic wall in Connaught Place, Delhi .. now with changed name with Rajiv .. the Rajiv Chowk .. which said , and it was so subtle and good ..

“ there is an air about India “ 

brilliant ..

there should be one for the City of Mumbai  .. wonder if we can devise something equally subtle and smart and relatable ..

something beyond ‘amchi mumbai ‘

adieu  .. time to breathe .. with the ‘pran....’

Amitabh Bachchan

[sporesgalaxy]

this came to me in a vision so I wrote a script in a feverish state, but I'm not sure when/if I'll be able to draw it???

so here's Scientist-Palmer Prom Acceptance Speech-- i.e. sexyman descendants-world equivalent of this ⬇️

I used Carlos & Cecil's canon son's name from the actual podcast (besides the last name, which is conjecture). I also used No Design, for The Bit, but there are 2 very cool Cecil descendant designs on the @sexymandescendants blog! Check them out!

ok here u go enjoy lol

Too-lette: [bitterly] ...and this year's winner of the title of Tumblr High Prom Tyrant is... [opening an envelope]

[shot of Spamton Jr. and Sara holding each other with anticipation]

Too-lette: ...Esteban Scientist-Palmer.

[most people in the decorated gym applaud politely]

[Sara is clapping dejectedly, while Junior sympathetically pats her shoulder]

[Too-lette is still standing on the stage alone]

Too-lette: ...

Too-lette: ...Scientist-Palmer?

[silence]

Too-lette: Is he even here?

[The crowd murmurs]

Too-lette: [moving to put the crown on her own head] Well then, maybe I should just--

[the overhead speakers suddenly blare loud feedback. Too-lette clutches the crown to her chest defensively.]

[Everyone else in the gym winces and covers their ears]

ESP: [over the intercom] ...Hello? Testing. Testing. Is this thing on?

[The crowd responds with only stunned silence]

ESP: [cheerful] ...Greetings, esteemed classmates!

ESP: This is Esteban Scientist-Palmer, speaking to you live from an unidentifiable pocket dimension!

ESP: I seem to have taken a wrong turn at some point, and wound up stuck here on my way to the dance.

ESP: I may not have had a date to stand up, but I was hoping to at least see my friends...

ESP: Speaking of-- hi guys! Take lots of pictures! And text me if you know anything about escaping places that don't exist!

ESP: Anyways, it's a good thing I never leave my house without my portable radio broadcasting equiptment.

ESP: Otherwise, I might not have been able to thank you all for voting me Prom Tyrant!

ESP: It was a great tournament, and all of my opponents were formidable warriors of popularity! This is truly an honor!

ESP: Uh... Since I'm not there to accept the crown or sash, feel free to just put them on a hasty effigy of me.

ESP: You can even ritually sacrifice it at the end of the night if you want! Man, I wish I could be there for that...

ESP: [Sighs] Alright, I really ought to get back to taking careful scientific notes of my surroundings, in hopes of using what I learn to devise an escape.

ESP: If you enjoyed this impromtu radio-jacking, consider listening to my bi-weekly podcast, available wherever you least expect it to be.

ESP: This is Esteban Scientist-Palmer, Prom Tyrant elect, signing off.

ESP: Up next: a gruesome free-for-all game of Capture The Prom Crown, because I am not physically present to defend it, and the vast majority of our school's student body is amused by things like theft and violence!

ESP: [Giggles] Don't have too much fun without me, guys! And good night, Tumblr High! Good night.

[the intercom turns off]

[splitting-infinities]

so all the posts on my blog for the next several days will be a weird combo because we live in a world where deviser, malevolent, and the met gala happen at the same time and i need to be unhinged about it all at once. block the tags if you need to lol i'm sorry in advance