#balance unlimited imagines

[tadpolesonalgae]

Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You - Part 2[*]

Azriel x Third-Oldest-Archeron-Sibling!Reader

a/n: Really not sure about this one :/

warnings: fingering, angst

word count: 4,026

-Part 1- -Part 3-

Heart pounding in your chest. Words ringing in your ear.

If you were half the female Elain is, then maybe he’d show a little interest. But you’re not. You’re painfully separate, unable to crawl into her skin to live as her, to please him. Something sharp twists in your chest but you gently push it away, shunning that bruised, neglected part of you back into its dark and cramped cell.

His mouth opens, tongue stroking over your own, flicking the roof of your mouth. Hands on your hips, squeezing your waist. Toes hurting from the effort of balancing on them, upper body stretched taut with your arms grasping him tight, keeping him tucked against you, pressing his scent into your skin.

Quiet, needful sounds pass into his mouth, fingers tightening on him, pushing into him, keeping him. He’s yours for the moment. Hands grip the fabric of your dress, material scraping over your goose-pebbled skin. Breath catches at the rough drag of fingertips on your upper thigh, gripping your bare hips.

Heat builds behind your eyes, pressure warming as they squeeze shut, grasping him tighter, clinging desperately. Something hard and wooden is digging into the base of your spine, but his hips are pushing into your front and—and you can’t feel anything. Not even a slight firmness. He isn’t even interested in your body.

You kiss harder, pressing against him, winding against him in attempts to stir something. To get some kind of male reaction. Soft, feminine sounds spill from your lips, quiet pants as you bite down on the groans, only allowing the sweet and pleasing noises to make their way out. You press your chest into him, utilising the book case to arch your spine, even as it hurts to level yourself upon it. His hands squeeze your waist, and you bow further, slowly settling back upon the aching flats of your feet, toes stinging from the weight.

Your neck tips back, craning upward to keep his mouth upon your own, his thumb running over the bare skin above the band of fabric clinging to your hips. You start at the action, wanting more. Slowly, carefully, in a way you hope he likes, you press your lips to the edge of his mouth. Gradually, you make your way to his throat, nipping and kissing his neck.

His scent wraps around you, and for a moment you imagine he really is—that his arms are around your waist and he’s holding you because he wants to. But that illusion falls to dust when his fingers hook beneath the material of your underwear and he firmly pulls away from your mouth, dipping so his own is over your throat. He noses the sensitive skin a little roughly, and a small sound whines from your lips, warmth heating your cheeks as you replay the noise.

It doesn’t seem to bother him as he licks the hollow of your throat, almost certainly feeling the way your arms tense and the way your breath catches.

His canines scrape and this is it, he’s going to bite down, and he’s going to mark you, and it’ll stay. It’ll turn purple and blue, then to a yellowy green, but you’ll have memorised it by the time it fades. Teeth prick against the delicate skin of your throat and you tilt your head back, giving him unlimited access, and his mouth opens, opens over you, preparing to sink deep inside, and— He pulls away. You were too eager.

Instead his lips seal over a spot beneath your jaw, suckling and kissing gently, but nothing that will leave a mark. Nothing he’ll have to face once this is over. His hand slides back, and you inhale sharply as he squeezes your ass, cupping the plumpness appreciatively. You go a little dizzy when his fingers slide deeper, going between your thighs with expert ease, pressing against your entrance.

Absolute humiliation flushes your skin as he feels just how wet you are, just how desperate you are for a kind word from him. If he asked you to stop, and asked you to get on your knees, you’re not entirely sure you’d be able to deny him. Even if it meant forgoing your own pleasure. If you could give him a little more…

He pushes away the sopping fabric, fingers circling the sensitive skin, making you tighten around nothing. No one’s ever worked you this well before. Never had you so desperate after receiving so little, and— You squeeze your eyes shut, pressure heating in a flash at the realisation.

“Look at me.”

His voice breaks through your world of darkness, eyes opening to seek him out. They flit away, embarrassed by the damp blur coating your vision. His fingers slide forward with ease, dancing through the mess between your thighs, pressing to that unfairly sensitive space at your apex. “Look at me,” he repeats. Still quiet, but stern; sharp.

You follow his orders weakly, meeting that piercing hazel that’s staring deep inside. His fingers press in, sliding to his second knuckle, and your breath halts, catches in your chest. His eyes are latched upon yours and you’re unable to look away as he swallows you whole, your entire self being devoured and obliterated over and over beneath him. Trampled and beaten into the dirt until you’re curling up within yourself shrinking away from this monster that’s taking everything you have.

If you continue to give him everything, what will be left of you?

His fingers curl and thoughts melt with your brain. You lap at the edges of him, that inherent otherness that comes with being fae reaching out desperately, standing on a precipice with nothing more than a hope to be caught. He touches a spot inside you and you stumble, quietly moaning as you focus instead on how he feels inside you. How he’s pressed against you and you’ve never been so close with anyone else. Never been so vulnerable, emotions and thoughts laid bare through the intimacies of what should be limited to lovers.

Azriel’s murmuring something but your world has gone quiet, sound a dim ringing in the chambers of your memory. Your world is comprised of touch and feeling, nothing but sensation and existence. His fingers retract and you’re cold and empty, but then he’s shifting to be in front, and, and—

His two fingers slide in to his knuckles, pressing all the way inside and you have to make way for him. Moans and pants spill from your lips in attempts to find room for his pleasure, the way he’s sliding in and out of your heat, curling and pumping and sound begins to return. You’re aware of the things he’s murmuring to you, saying how good you are, what a good job you’re doing, and you lap up every word he gives you. Every muttered praise, every lied encouragement. You’re content to believe them for the moment, to burn yourself in his warmth.

“Azriel…” you pant, softly.

His eyes flicker, again touching that spot inside of you that has you tightening around him. He marks the pace of your breathing, shallow and uneven, seeking more from him. You’re nearing that tipping point, nearing the pleasure he’s giving to you, but…

He’s taking it from you.

This moment, the meaning of intimacy, and your pleasure. He’s taking everything from you. Things he has no need for, things that have no use to him, because you’re open for him. Allowing him to do what he wants to you, and, yes, what you want him to do, too.

If you give him this…you really will have nothing. But he is everything to you, so it shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter but it does, somehow. You can’t give it all. That’s not something you can put yourself through. That’s not what you survived for. You haven’t made it two years without asking for hand from anyone just to have it all ripped away.

Pleasure builds, heat burning beneath your skin, coiling tighter and tighter as you look into those remarkable hazel eyes. “Azriel…” you moan, tightening your grip over his shoulders. That small, malnourished part of you screams, screams until her lungs rupture and her nails peel back from her finger tips as she claws at her cage. She screams with fury and rage at her imprisonment and you can’t, you can’t.

“Stop.”

He ceases his movements, but not willingly. He’s pausing, fingers still sunken inside your wet heat, keeping you on the brink of pleasure, within the palm of temptation. “Stop,” you repeat, hoarsely, arms releasing him in favour of taking his hand by the wrist, pulling it away from you. Shame weighs in your stomach as you feel your slick forming thin threads connecting his wet fingers to your sopping cunt. The proof of the choice you made. But the choice he made, too.

Azriel watches you intently as you pull back. You were right there. At the tip of his fingers, you were about to tip over. Why had you pulled away?

A small spark of that fire he’d seen earlier presents itself in your gaze, and he’s wanting you to fight again. But you’d told him to stop, and he will keep to his word. If you don’t want that pleasure, then you won’t get it. Not from him at least. It’s your choice if you want to pass up the chance he was giving you—the opportunity to have him and then leave. He was presenting you with a way out, but you’ve found your own. Made your own. It’s not the work of the doe-eyed, simpering woman he’s come to know you as. Maybe you aren’t the female he thought you were.

You can hardly stand to be in your skin as you push him away gently; numbly. That ringing sounds in your ears and it’s all you can do to cover yourself, easing out from between him and the book case to make for the exit. You don’t care to look back, even for him. Not so soon, before you’ve even had the chance to process. Because it’s a lot.

A lot has happened. A lot has changed. And you— You don’t know.

He’d seemed different, somehow. He’d seemed like— Well, he clearly isn’t. He’s not the male you had hoped he was.

————

Hours had passed in the blink of an eye, and thoughts were still a morning view clogged with thick fog. So you went to bed.

You didn’t allow yourself to think of him. Couldn’t think of him.

The buzzing had cut out, leaving an almost peaceful silence to fill the space he had left.

You washed, but did not eat, fearful of running into company. So you changed, and got into bed with an empty stomach; for a few strangely blissful moments, you were mortally, beautifully human again. Head empty, heart empty, belly empty. Tired and somber. A little numb.

Quiet.

————

You rose with the sun, arms stretching with the rays, and you allowed the silence to stretch until midday. Basking in quiet, peaceful relief. No thoughts, just feeling. The blue skies, billowing puffy clouds, fresh breeze. The smell of something clean and sharp; minty?

The first non-natural sound you heard that day was the leathery beat of wings followed by the blaring scuff of boots and voices. Hastily, you retreat to your room, finally having to face the music. Face what had happened. The choices you had made, and the choices he had made. Every messy, tangled thread. It was time to sort through them all.

So you sit on your bed, but it feels too stiff; too mechanical. You lie down, watching the ceiling and thoughts eddy out, like water between your fingers. You have no need for the useless noise. Only the memories and sediment.

Breath blows from your lungs, chest deflating. Aching for air. Breathe in. Hold, calm down, exhale.

And what?

What is there to do? Where is there to go from here? Where even are you?

Eyes slide shut. Closing in with your thoughts. Secret space for you and your memories. Solitude.

If you were half the female Elain is…

Eyes squeeze tight. Breathe.

If you were even half like her…

Heat builds. Nails bite.

If you were different, if you were more like her…

Muscle contracts. Aches blossom.

If you were different.

You nod to yourself, accepting it. He wants Elain, not you. And it hurts. It hurts that again, you aren’t good enough. It hurts, and he had said it out of anger—maybe irritation. He had apologised, he had been regretful, and the words still sting. Can you forgive him? Does it matter if you can forgive him?

What matters is where you go from here—wherever you are.

And it will begin with understanding, accepting he will not…he won’t… He won’t do whatever it is that you want. Whatever thing you desire, that feeling you get from him will never be yours. It’s not yours to take, but you want it none the less. So your first task will be acknowledging that, and letting it pass.

Breathe in. Lungs rise; expand. Skin stretches. Blow out.

Heat rolls back into your hair, dripping into the sheets.

Weight settles, pulling you down through your bed. Taking you away again.

You need to talk with him.

————

Agitation has been crawling, itching and festering. Stroking you skin with its lovely claws. Frustration opens her gently smiling jaws, pillowy tongue looking plush, and pleasant.

The library’s doors are looming, tall and ominous, and—no. They’re the same as they always are: double wooden doors, smooth and carefully crafted. You raise your hand to knock, but that wouldn’t make sense. The library isn’t his space, you don’t need to knock to enter a shared area. It’s your house as much as his, you don’t have to tip toe about. Don’t need ask for entrance.

Spine steels, straightening, and you open the door.

You know what he’s like: you won’t be able to find him if he’s trying to avoid you. So you’ll go as you usually do, sitting in the library, filling afternoons with books and parchment. Maybe you’ll actually be able to get some reading done today. Maybe you’ll be able to relax and return to normalcy. Somehow, you doubt it.

The doors swing open, perfectly silent, on well-maintained hinges, and you instantly pick out his scent. Pleasing and fresh. He’s already in here. You grip onto it, taking a step in his direction, heart pounding.

Are you really ready for this conversation?

Fuck.

Breathe in. Hold. Count. Exhale.

Hand over your chest, feeling the drum of your heart.

Beneath his scent, you can pick out a smaller, female scent. It’s faint and barely there, and memories come back. Wood digging into your back, his hips pressing into your front, not an ounce of arousal to be found. How severely you had embarrassed yourself.

One more step forward, one step at a time. There’s no rush, just go slow. At your own pace. The fact alone that he’s here: where he’s found you countless times past over the year…he won’t run away. He has nothing to worry about. He isn’t on the verge of falling apart.

The trail is leading you to that aisle, where the two of you had been just days ago.

Throat tightens. Lump forms. Difficult to swallow.

Breathe. Hold. Count. Exhale.

Final step.

Your heart spikes as you take him in, the light from the windows sweeping over his outline, revealing him in all his beauty. Watery sun catches on the slight iridescence of his wings, and your hand slides over your chest. Deep breath.

His back remains to you, and you know he’s allowing you to take control of this, how it unfolds. If you want to leave it for another day, he won’t make you face it. You could walk right back out of this library, and he won’t say a word. It gives you a little comfort at least.

You clear your throat, readying yourself to see him again, to look into those hazel eyes. His shadows are nowhere in sight, and you wonder if they’re perhaps giving you the privilege of privacy, the courtesy of not peeking into your business. Teeth find your lower lip, but you need to talk to him, or you can’t move forward.

“Azriel?” Your voice sounds louder than you had expected and you suppress your slight start. Swallowing, you try again, tamping down the flush of embarrassment. “I…I want to talk about what happened. Between us.”

Wings tense, shoulders go rigid as he moves sharply, turning on you with that lethal precision of someone who’s been caught off guard. Deep cocoa eyes latch upon yours, creamy skin flushed, silky hair hanging in lovely, elegant cascades over her shoulders.

Lips part in surprise, mind goes numb. Blank.

Azriel’s brow narrows as he takes you in, but it’s Elain your attention is on as she flushes deep, taking a step away from the male. “I—…” She turns to Azriel, who is still watching you with that piercing gaze. “Well, again, if you ever have an afternoon, I’d like very much to show you. I’ll leave you two to…talk.” She hurriedly excuses herself, the soft wisp of her lilac dress hardly registering as she brushes past.

You stare at Azriel, tall and unyielding.

You stare, and nothing comes to mind. Anything you had planned to say is forgotten, washed away to a land of mist and fog. Sharp hazel eyes meet yours, dark and accusing, spearing through you. Shadows peek over his wings, circling tight. Lips press together in a stern line.

“What was that?” Your voice is hoarse, rough at the edges. “What were you…? Why…?”

He regards you, then shifts, all grace and strength. “Don’t do that,” he says, a touch quieter than usual, and you wonder if he’s somehow thinking it might make this easier. “You knew this was coming. Don’t pretend you’re surprised.”

Words don’t exist in your mind, your tongue has forgotten them.

He waits, watching your mental stumbles and stammers.

Your throat rolls. “I just— I just wanted…” Your lower lips trembles, and his eyes flick away for a moment, allowing you to dry the dampness in your eyes, shame and humiliation settling. “Why in here?” You manage instead. “Isn’t that a little…?”

“I can’t plan these things,” he says, gently. “Bad timing, I suppose.”

Bad timing.

“You want me to believe that wasn’t a wake-up call?” You ask quietly, not looking at him. “I’m always in here around now. You know that. Don’t say you forgot.”

He pauses, and you feel the weight of his gaze returning to you. You want to meet it, but… “Like I said, bad timing.” Silence stretches, fractures spiral down your spine, shattering across your chest. “It wasn’t an intentional move on my part, as much as you may doubt it,” he adds, quietly.

When no reply comes, he shifts on his feet, “what did you want to talk about?”

You debate turning and running right then and there. Just leaving, but that would just be putting it off, and you don’t have the energy. “What happened here a few days ago.”

He’s quiet. Listening to you.

“I…” You don’t know. You’d hoped it would be an equal effort, that the conversation would just happen like all the ones you’ve had before. But those have revolved around Elain, and been led by Azriel. Now you’re in control, and you have no idea what to do.

You wipe your eyes again, not as discreetly as you would have liked, but it’s better than him actually seeing you cry. You stand a little straighter, but still can’t meet his gaze. “We… I shouldn’t have done that.” You settle on. “It was…it was a foolish choice to make, and I’m…” You breathe deeply, heat pushing from behind your eyes, and you dry them again. “I’m sorry for tangling you up in it,” you whisper.

He’s silent, and you wonder if he’s already left, wanting to give you privacy. But then he says, “I made some…I was wrong, too.” You don’t really know what to make of that, so you stay quiet. “I thought maybe it would help you get over your feelings,” he explains. In your peripherals you can see as he shakes his head, “I should have known better.”

It stings more than he probably meant it to, but you find yourself meeting his gaze. “I’m fully grown. I can make my own decisions and manage the consequences.” Yes, it’s a little bitter, but… No. It’s just bitter. No excuse.

“No,” he says, and your eyes flick away from his, “the things I said, comparing you to Elain was wrong and unfair. I shouldn’t have done that, and I’m sorry.” You nod stiffly, reluctantly accepting his apology, because you did some things…said some things, too.

“I’m not sure…” you start, then shake your head. “I shouldn’t have said what I did about your hands. It was wrong, and cruel, and I said it because I knew it would hurt you,” you admit, unable to meet his eyes. “I’ve never— Not once. I’ve never thought…” Frustration bubbles in your chest as you search for the words. But he shakes his head, “I understand.”

Your brows curve upward, looking at him, but there’s a wall behind his eyes, and you know it’s pointless. The scar you targeted runs far deeper. Pain cultivated across centuries, burrowing deeper and deeper until it made home in the marrow of his bones. And you’d struck it. Like the self-absorbed, jealous coward you are, you’d wanted him to hurt how you were.

You remove your gaze from him, too ashamed to hold it. “I just thought…I don’t know…” you mumble, ringing your fingers together. “Feyre and Rhys, Nesta and Cassian? Then Elain has—…” You cut yourself off, remembering how things had gone the last time you’d brought them up. “Well, I just thought maybe, that…I don’t know…maybe you and I…”

“Were mates?” He finishes.

You shift uneasily, rubbing the back of your neck as you peer at the floor, “not in an entitled way… Just a… I was hopeful. That’s all it was.”

“I don’t think you grasp the depth of a mating bond.”

You bite your lip to keep it from wobbling, “I guess not.”

Maybe he’s right. It’s not like you grew up on Prythian tales and lullabies—you only came into his land recently. You know so little about his world, despite having been living in it for the past two years.

“Anyway,” you say, softly, voice a little raw, “I’m sorry for trying to involve myself like I did.” He nods, accepting your apology, and your eyes flit to his right, the books on the shelf. “And, I didn’t mean to—… I mean, I didn’t know that you and…” you trail off. Tongue flicks out to wet your lips, “it wasn’t intentional on my part. I just wanted to get this out of the way…”

He nods again, “I believe you."

You swallow, managing a small, nervous smile, still peering at the row of books to his right. “I’d like…I think, it would be nice to be friends, then.” Your eyes flit to his, an effort to do so. But he offers no consolation, no last comfort. Humiliating silence stretches between you, and you hope he might say something, yearn for some sort of reassurance that you haven’t ruined things.

But your head lowers, nodding slightly. “Okay…” you say, weakly, “I get it. That’s fine.”

You watch your fingers ring together in front of you, nails sliding beneath one another as you fidget. “I’ll just—” You gesture to the door, and he still remains silent, just watching you. He knows not to reach out. It would be cruel to give you any sort of hope.

Teeth bite your lip, and you hang your head in shame.

“Yeah,” you whisper, “okay.”

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[a-d-nox]

tarot cards and their key phrases: pentacles

this is just a beginners guide to the pentacles suit - i won't go into imagery, color use, etc. these are key phrases that come to mind when i think of the cards - NOT how they should be directly applied. they needs to be thought about situationally and the cards / when they are in combos they can change or alter their meanings of any reading.

ace of pentacles (1)

astrological equivalent: taurus venus

upright: opportunity, gifts, new job, unexpected money gains, beginnings, increased prosperity, abundance, unlimited potential, new love, moving in together, and stability

reversed: not seeing the opportunities you have around you, trying too hard to make something work, working too hard, going in the wrong direction, controlling energy, and something is different than what you imagined

two of pentacles (2)

astrological equivalent: virgo mars

upright: work-life balance, flow with emotions, a level up, momentary disruption, only take on what you can handle, and feeling overwhelmed

reversed: tension in life, destabilization, irresponsibility with your finances, spending unnecessarily, needing moderation, and off track

three of pentacles (3)

astrological equivalent: capricorn mercury

upright: share your ideas, work you are passionate about, passion project, new opportunities, being well received by others, prosperity, and paving the way to your future

reversed: lack of confidence, overwhelming fears, needing to take your work to the next level, needing to step out of your comfort zone, feeling burnt out, needing to taking a break, and needing to be more generous with yourself

four of pentacles (4)

astrological equivalent: virgo moon

upright: financial stability, a new level of comfort, losing sight of potential growth, safe and stable, having what you need, clinging to what you have, being closed off to new things, in the process of establishing stability, and needing to give yourself some credit

reversed: focusing too much on materialism, seeing intangible results, work on insecurities, focus inwardly rather than outwardly, being too controlling, needing to relax, and needing to listen to intuition

five of pentacles (5)

astrological equivalent: capricorn moon

upright: lack or loss, scarcity, job loss, lack of resources, focused on what you lack, not seeing helping hands, and feeling unworthy

reversed: moving away from financial struggle, lingering fears, spiritual practices, needing faith, and needing to release feelings of lack/loss

six of pentacles (6)

astrological equivalent: taurus mercury

upright: giving and receiving, being generous, feeling unworthy/undeserving, and needing to realize that you have to give without expecting to receive something in return

reversed: generosity with strings attached, warning about intentions behind actions, and being disappointed by what you receive

seven of pentacles (7)

astrological equivalent: capricorn mars

upright: close to your goal, needing to take a closer look at all the progress you've made, gratitude, and adventure towards achievement

reversed: not working towards goals with enough conviction, frustrated, impatience, procrastination, not seeing results, and internal resistance

eight of pentacles (8)

astrological equivalent: taurus mars

upright: do what love / love what you do, financial success, financial security, hard work, dedication, success, learning something new, advancing in you field, and rewarded for your efforts

reversed: feeling burnt out, leaving your job, feeling uncertain about your chosen field, and worrying that you aren't achieving anything

nine of pentacles (9)

astrological equivalent: capricorn venus

upright: enjoyment, feeling safe, working hard, wise investment, charity, shared abundance, enjoying life, having everything you need, vacationing, and buying something meaningful

reversed: overspending, materialism, unsustainable financial behavior, being overworked, not enjoying life, and not taking time for oneself

ten of pentacles (10)

astrological equivalent: taurus moon

upright: love within the family, support, spending time with the people you love, giving to those in need, prosperity, giving generously, what you inherit, setting aside funds, and planning for the future

reversed: challenging time for the family, feeling controlled by the expectations of others, home related conflict, and fear of moving on

page of pentacles

astrological equivalent: earth

upright: novice, establishing yourself in a new place/profession, working in beginning stages of a project, lasting abundance, steady focus, and learning more

reversed: procrastinating on goals, refocus/readjust your approach, frustration around results or lack of results, and it might be time to move on

knight of pentacles

astrological equivalent: earth and air

upright: starting from ground zero, wanting lasting results, showing up fully, enthusiasm for life, s.m.a.r.t. goal setting, and transforming your routine

reversed: hesitation, complacency, feeling stagnant, positive change, and needing to change your energy

queen of pentacles

astrological equivalent: earth and water

upright: nurturing, dependable, connection with nature, supportiveness, relationship with your body, and connecting with abundance

reversed: materialism, needing to reconnect with spirituality, unreliability, needing to have a conversation about expectations, someone influencing your decisions, people pleasing, and picking other people's happiness over your own

king of pentacles

astrological equivalent: earth and fire

upright: financial stability, generosity, leadership role, financial decisions, take action when striving to meet goals, financially supporting others, and using resources to benefit others

reversed: greediness, focusing solely on material wealth, father figure, being hard on yourself, butting heads with others, superficial people, selfish people, and struggling with generosity

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[atla-confessions]

Please read, as follows, my propogandist persuasive bullet-pointed essay on why we all should consume far more Yuezula than is the current normal intake, and why Azula and Yue make the best pairing for both characters and indeed everyone involved.

The cage symbolism as connected to the reality of being a princess. At the beginning of their respective stories, both girls are in cages: Yue in the cage of responsibility and duty over love, and Azula in the cage of her own perfectionism and the propaganda of her rearing. By the end of their arcs, Yue unlocks her cage by making a choice and seizing back her autonomy, but at the same time transferring her straight into another cage of responsibility and immortality, as she loses the human life that she never really got to live. Azula ends up in the cage of her madness and a physical cage of the asylum, which she was in a steady course towards throughout the whole series. Both cages of their own making, and yet constructed by fate, which they are helpless against. Like parallels say what???

Both princesses without mothers. This isn't really touched on much in Yue's case, but Yue isn't really touched on much either, aside from what we can infer about her from what's shown. But the reality of both of them is that they grew up as princesses without a mother to guide/teach them. Ursa is a really cool and complex character, and this is by no means bashing on her, but she was at a loss for how to deal with Azula and guide her: Ursa's actions towards Azula were incredibly influential towards who she ended up becoming, and ultimately Azula did not have that positive maternal guidance. Neither did Yue (assumedly), and I think that Yue not having a mother to stand up for her and ultimately how she ended up with all that responsibility is reflective of Katara's situation at the beginning of the series. Now, this brings in Katara: why not yuetara? why not azutara? You raise an excellent point, but let me raise you another: Yukazula. That aside, as this is a Yuezula essay, I believe that yuezula makes a superior pairing because both Azula and Yue actually lived as princesses, and also, the vibes.

They would be hilarious together. Can you even imagine? Yue would not put up with Azula's bullshit, as a fellow princess and enthusiast of keeping the universe in balance and sacrifice and everything: Yue basically contradicts everything Azula is and stands for, and vice versa. If they were tossed into a situation where they had to work together, neither one of them would be able to come out of that pairing unchanged. Yue would have to learn some selfishness in order to just survive with Azula, and Azula might actually learn some humility. I mean, Yue's the moon spirit, which far outranks her, so Yue would have to demand her respect in some ways.

Spirit wives. Spirit wives. Guys. Please. The ultimate power couple. Need I say more?

It has unlimited crack, angst, and fluff potential. Literally this ship is an untapped goldmine. Any au. The spirit world is super fun to play with, Yue's whole mysterious aura is super interesting to tweak and play around with, she's way underutilized in fandom anyway, and Azula deserves the redemption that a Yuezula relationship could give her.

In conclusion, please consider the unlimited health benefits of consuming and offering more Yuezula to the fandom. Please. We are starving.

X

[mama-qwerty]

a curious question I want to ask you, what do you think of a au where Eclipse was raised alongside Shadow and Maria on the Ark and Eclipse's creation was sort of a power balance between the ultimate lifeform in Project Shadow also what do you think of the sibling dynamic with Maria, Shadow and Eclipse be like?

Oh, that's an interesting question.

I could see Eclipse being the weapon Black Doom wanted Gerald to make in the first place. Maybe the Black Arms scientists don't have an adequate 'imagination' to create a bio-weapon, so BD enlisted the help of Gerald to do so. Gerald used full strength Black Arms DNA to create Eclipse, and the darkling is essentially exactly what BD wanted in Shadow.

Shadow, however, was Gerald's pet project. He snuck a teeny bit of Black Arms DNA and merged it with the DNA from a quill he found on one of his off-world expeditions, and ba-da-bing, ba-da-boom, Shadow was born. He was meant to be Maria's protector, her savior, her emotional support animal. And he performed exactly as Gerald wanted. The unlimited chaos energy and other powers were secondary and a little unexpected, honestly.

Shadow and Maria are thick and thieves, always together and learning and snuggling and sharing an emotional bond stronger than any Gerald had seen before. He's so pleased with himself for Shadow's success.

Eclipse . . . doesn't understand it. Black Arms are not known for their emotional attachments, or their need for connection past the hive mind link that delivers orders. But Eclipse doesn't have a hive mind link. He's separated enough from the Comet that he hasn't connected to it, and thus, is alone. Gerald makes sure to keep him separated from Shadow and the rest of the Ark, because he's a product created specifically for BD. And maybe Gerald's having a little moral dilemma for creating something that could pose a threat to Earth and everything he holds dear.

So Eclipse spends his days alone in the lab. Enduring test after test. He watches the comings and goings, but ultimately doesn't know how to feel regarding all this.

And maybe Maria and Shadow sneak into the lab one night, after everyone else has gone to bed. And they sit before Eclipse's tank. Maybe Shadow can hear Eclipse's thoughts, and tries to reach out to him, let him know he's not alone.

And Eclipse's eyes snap open at the first feel of Shadow's thoughts in his mind. The two stare at each other, sending messages back and forth, while Maria looks on, keeping watch to make sure they're not caught.

Maybe this becomes a nightly ritual for them, and soon the all become closer. Maria and Shadow reach out to Eclipse, trying to include him in games and fun things. As much as they can, anyway.

And Eclipse starts to understand this connection. This need for companionship. This desire to form bonds with others.

And the three become close.

Then Black Doom arrives to retrieve his weapon.

Gerald tries to buy time. "It's not ready," he claims. "I'm still running tests." BD doesn't buy it and orders his warriors to attack, to take that which he deemed created in his name. The Ark is overrun. Maria and Shadow try to get Eclipse out of there, but they can't. Maria is injured, and Shadow drags her to the escape pod. She shoves him in instead, insisting that he's the only one who can stop the Black Arms, should they get to Earth. She sends him away.

Eclipse finds Maria as she's hidden herself in a dark corner. She's fading, and he sits with her as she draws her last breath.

Eclipse looks toward the chute where Shadow's pod was ejected. The warriors are coming. He gently lays Maria down, and leaps through the ejection tube, heading down to Earth to find his brother.

[askew-d]

Can I ask, who are your top favorite romantic couples (can be canon or non canon) of all time from any media? Why you love them? Thx :D

here i go with another grand list that i was very happy to write! i’m in love with these asks, really. i’ll mention all of them, but at first i was in doubt if i could include one that isn’t ‘canon’, but rather rpf. either way, i added bonus couples for good reasoning! let’s go.

1. wangxian (lan wangji x wei wuxian), from mo dao zu shi — they are THE moment, they are THE couple, they are THE goals. who ever could have imagined someone would come up and write a troublemaker who falls into demonic arts and gets reincarnated to fight together with a sucker-for-rules expressionless man and make it work? they fit into any au as well, this fandom rocks. my lovely cultivators!

2. kagehina (kageyama tobio x hinata shouyou), from haikyuu!! — i dont even play volleyball. i dont even like sports! why do i love this anime and this duo specifically so much? they are so passionate about their hobbies, the rivalry and frenemy relationship? the POTENTIAL. the STORY they have. the "someone better will come and find you" promise. sheer beauty. they are silly and fresh and cute and i dont think i'll ever get tired of it.

3. yizhan (wang yibo x xiao zhan), from the untamed cast rpf — i know all the problematics about writing real person fiction. i KNOW, okay?? but people, let me like them and support them in peace?? 😔 i have so much love for these men, and its overall hella fun following their life unfold, even if they are not working together anymore. nonetheless, they are my dose of serotonin when i need it.

4. daiharu (kambe daisuke x katou haru), from fugou keiji: balance unlimited — i will not scream for a seson 2 here. i will scream for more FICS of them here! there ain't enough! its not even about the 'sugar daddy' appeal, its more about the 'partners in (solving) crime' appeal. oh and also the 'i hate you you arrogant prick but i WILL do anything for you' part. everything and every detail of this show.... seriously though: gold.

5. hilson (gregory house x james wilson), from house m.d — oh, my sweet stupid and repressed doctors, i would do unspeakable things for you. wilson has been through every hard moment of house's life. you can name them, he's been there. through every ridiculous situation of his too. it is overwhelming, honestly. the ending couldn't have been more reasonable and fitting for them, in my opinion.

6. hannigram (hannibal lecter x will graham), from hannibal — this gif alone of them with scratches and smiling conspiratorily to each other sums up their entire dynamic. they're toxic and no one's doing it like them. like, yeah, no shit, who would even dare, right? murder husbands can do anything and eat the rude as much as they want, i will be sipping on my drink and watching intently. (man truly looked at this detective he framed for murder and said he would remember their moment together forever??? just dont throw him in jail then???)

7. shiguang (lu guang x cheng xiaoshi), from link click — these pretty boys traveling through time invented the concept of yearning, and i will not explain more to not give season 2 spoilers. i fell in love with them as soon as i saw the first shot of the anime. it doesnt help that they have the same dynamic as wangxian, too. cheng xiaoshi, my beloved, you would never do anything to harm anyone (not purposefully) and i (as well as lu guang) worship you 🙏

8. renga (hasegawa langa x kyan reki), from sk8: the infinity — let's be true tho, can they never do a sports anime without pulling up homosexuals?? not that im complaining at all. please continue, in fact. every couple in this story is valid (adam does not exist), and i love this spirited, young concept of redescovering the beauty of a hobbie. lovely, all of them, but most specially my langa and his admiration for reki. their dynamic has no complications, its just so sweet.

9. moshang (mobei jun x shang qinghua), from the scum villain self-saving system — i will not share a pic of moshang official art because i find shang qinghua appearence too much childlike and annoying, meanwhile i find him much more interesting in the book and fanarts. in any case, i love this couple more than the main couple simply because our airplane-bro can make everything so hilarious. there are fics of them out there which are peak entertainment (check this one!). mobei's tsundere attitude and shang qinghua's shamelessness are a great combo.

10. hualing (hua cheng x xie lian), from heaven official’s blessing — the longing is unbearable. hua cheng loves this man so much, for real. waiting 800 fucking years?? being his most devoted believer? can you believe the audacity?? my man, though he has low self-steem, does anything to protect his god. he doesnt care about any realm. he only cares for xie lian, his dear god. they are the cutest couple.

bonus: aziracrow, johnlock, tododeku, victuuri, blackbonnet, mafuyama, redblue (from this is how you lose the time war).

these are my favorite ships ever! they are what i scream about alternatively, and when i say so, i'm not joking. one week i'm freaking out over new link click content and in the other one i'm reviewing house m.d episodes. my life's a circle with my favorite ships in it and i ain't regretting anything.

thank you for asking, by the way! big hugs! 🤍

[magnetarbeam]

Star Wars Technical Worldbuilding Notes 1

Economy of motion would, realistically, be a pretty big thing in space combat tactics. The thrust given by an ion engine and the recoil/kinetic component of a laser or an ion cannon follow the same formula, so a capital ship that has all its power diverted to weapons is effectively applying acceleration equal to its engines in the direction that's opposite the aim of its guns.

The way I currently imagine it, capital ships involved in a serious line of battle would probably assume an even posture, firing the engines only to balance out the recoil of its cannons, for a net acceleration of zero. This doesn't mean the fleet is at rest relative to anything else, since it retains its existing velocity.

Maybe a common move would be to accelerate at full burn for a few minutes after dropping out of hyperspace to hit something like 0.1c before cutting thrust and coasting to engagement range. The point being to build up enough velocity in advance of an engagement that you can divert most or all power to weapons in the opening salvos without the recoil killing your forward velocity.

All else being equal, a ship fleeing pursuit would be at a significant advantage in that objective during exchanges of cannon fire, since the pursuit would be set back by their own recoil, while the ship fleeing is accelerated by shots that don't penetrate its shield.

So in this model of capital ship combat, missiles are useful not only because of the guidance and that they allow a ship to punch above its reactor output, but they allow you to attack without impacting your overall velocity.

I do think the X-Wing books take it a little bit too far, but my theory at this point is that a minimalistic model for galactic fleet scaling makes for better storytelling, because it gives you more of a chance to get to know each ship and its crew and each squadron and their pilots. Thereby giving more opportunity for readers to get invested. Logical fleet scales for an entire galaxy would mean having to use scientific notation to write out the number of ships in a battle, anyway.

One idea I've played with recently regarding logistics is that maybe the impact of large gravity wells on hyperspace could be written in such a way that the fixed installations needed to extract raw hypermatter from hyperspace are most efficient in high-gravity conditions, and so are most often built deep in large gas giants. I like that because fortifying and laying siege to a gas planet would be a very different task than a terrestrial planet. Such a siege would be especially difficult because its defenders have a practically unlimited supply of fuel for planetary shields and defensive cannons.

Headcanonically, hypermatter is created in hyperspace as a side effect of the passage of mass-energy through hyperspace. It is kind of a chicken-or-the-egg situation in terms of the questions it begs about the early history of space travel, but that goes to show how established galactic society is, that they haven't had to worry about that since their civilization's prehistory.

[talonabraxas]

Pyramids of Sirius Talon Abraxas

Pyramid Meditation and Manifestation Practices

Because of their physical properties and symbolic meanings, pyramids can be used in spiritual, meditation, and manifestation practices. Here are some ways you can use them to expand consciousness and receptivity to spiritual guidance:

1. Focus and Alignment

Just as pyramids form a point, or apex, at their top, they can represent focusing your attention in meditation. Some people find focusing on a mandala or lotus flower can help to reorient wandering thoughts in meditation. The pyramid can serve in the same fashion, whether it’s a figurine, a piece of art, or even in your imaginations.

In addition, you can focus your thoughts on moving up from the base of the pyramid, which can represent your experience in the material world to its pinnacle, which can represent a higher state of consciousness.

2. Energy Channeling

Pyramids are thought to channel cosmic energy, making them helpful tools for energy and even healing sessions. Placing a small pyramid on or near the head or body during energy and healing sessions is said to help balance and harmonize the body’s energy fields.

3. Manifestation Amplifier

The stable base and ascending sides of a pyramid can also symbolize staying grounded in the earthly plane while reaching for higher goals.

Writing down your intentions and placing them under a pyramid can be a helpful ritual in your manifestation practice. It can also serve as a request for blessings from higher powers when it comes to your endeavors.

4. Generating Creative Ideas

Given their association with enhancing focus and channeling energy, pyramids can be in creativity and problem solving when you want to channel higher energies and spiritual guidance.

In addition, the presence of a pyramid shape can serve as a visual and energetic reminder of your goals, aspirations, and unlimited capacity to create.

5. Gateways

Reflecting ancient practices, pyramids can be used as symbolic gateways during spiritual initiations or significant transitions, representing the journey from one state of consciousness to another.

This can involve meditating within or near pyramid structures to tap into transformative energies.

6. Enhancing a Sacred Space

Incorporating pyramids into the design of a creative, meditation, or other sacred space can elevate the area’s vibrational qualities. The pyramid’s base provides stability and grounding, while its ascending sides support creativity, the quest for higher wisdom, and spiritual ascension.

[chodzacaparodia]

Sorry in advance if it's too many xD

1, 8, 9, 11, 12, 15, 19, 25, 29 and 30 for the anime ask game ^^

Hii <3 That's okay, don't worry xD Thank you for the asks!

1. first anime you ever watched

The real first is Pokémon, but the first one that really got me into anime was Violet Evergarden and I really can't imagine a better start

8. anime character you are most like

Koushi Sugawara from Haikyuu!! He's practically me, he's my soulmate. We have similar characters (although he is more optimistic than me xd) and sense of humor. But also Anzu from Romantic Killer is also so me coded

9. favorite anime child

Anya from Spy x Family! I usually find child characters annoying, but Anya is the first one I've actually liked. She's really funny and tries hard

11. anime you didn’t expect to like but did

I answered that in this ask (ID: INVADED), but I will also give other anime: Grandpa and Grandma Turn Young Again. When I was browsing through seasonal anime, it didn't even catch my eye. But when they showed the first episode at one of the manga meetings, to my surprise I liked it and decided to watch the rest myself. Interesting anime; funny but also bittersweet.

12. anime that should get more attention from others

Romantic Killer!! I feel like there are almost no posts (fanarts are practically non-existent) about this anime, like it's been forgotten or just unknown. And this is really good!

15. anime you never get sick of watching

Yuri!!! On ice. Sometimes a woman just needs to get back to her gays the ice.

19. favorite anime ships

Ohhh this is a hard one

Shiguang from Link Click

Haikyuu!!: Sakuatsu, Kuroken, Daisuga, Oisuga, Bokuaka, Kagehina, Asanoya, Tsukkiyama…

Tokyo Revengers: Ryufuyu, Kazufuyu, Bajifuyu, Kazufuyu, Hanmafuyu (is there such a ship name??)

Blue Lock: Reonagi/Nagireo, Hiorin, Kunigiri, Bachisagi, Barounagi, Bachirin

My Hero Academia: Tododeku, Shindeku. Kamijirou, EraserMic, Dabihawks

Fruits Basket: Kyoru, Rinharu

Jujutsu Kaisen: Itafushi, Sukufushi, Inuokko, Nobamaki, Chosoyuki, Satosugu

Bungou Stray Dogs: Ranpoe, Shin Soukoku, Soukoku, Suegiku

Wind Breaker: Suosaku, Suonire, Kiryusuo

Free!!: Makoharu, Reigisa, Sourin

One Piece: Zosan, Acesan

Chainsaw Man: Akiangel

Hunter x Hunter: Leopika, Killugon

Moriarty the Patriot: Sherliam

Heaven Official's Blessing: Hualian, Fengqing

Attack on Titan: Eruri

SK8: Renga, Matchablossom

Yuri!!! On ice: Victuuri, Otayuri

The Millionaire Detective: Balance Unlimited: Daiharu

Wotakoi: Narumi/Hirotaka, Kabakura/Koyanagi

25. anime you would recommend to someone who hates anime

Something from Makoto Shinkai. Your name, Weathering with you or Suzume. Even someone who hates anime would appreciate the beauty of these movies and the amazing music

Or, as was my case, Violet Evergarden.

29. anime that deserves another season

I also answered that in this ask (Romantic Killer; this anime is SO good and really deserves another season!!) but I can also give another title.

Sometimes I randomly remember about Blue Period and I'm like "Hey, where is the second season?" As far as I know, the manga is still being created, so there is still a lot of material for the anime and I have to admit that Blue Period is something.

30. one anime conclusion you would change

I'm torn between Tokyo Revengers and My Hero Academia. The first one was a bit disappointing because it was way too happy enging. As much as it sounds, someone could have stayed dead or on bad terms with other characters. And with My Hero Academia, I didn't feel satisfied at all with the career Midoryia chose. I've read too many Vigilante Deku fanfics to believe he didn't try to work as a hero.

Edit: Shit, these were mangas, not anime xD My mistake So Banana Fish. Because OH COME ONNNN. It could have ended differently, happier.

Thanks again and have a nice day! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

Anime asks

[grailfinders]

Grailfinders Viewers' Choice: Beast IV L

if anything's getting my icon blurred out, it's this one. anyways!

it's that time of the month once again, and this time I feel like an absolute beast. well, to be more accurate, y'all felt like getting an absolute beast. a beast (fgo definition) that summons beasts (D&D definition). I'm sure this won't be confusing at all.

as usual I highly doubt this build is even remotely balanced for actual PvE play, but beasts are supposed to be world ending threats, so that shouldn't be a surprise.

the build itself will be under the cut, because hoo boy there's a lot to go over.

first up, beast IV can show up in her standard Koyanskaya form, which is the one primarily used when outside her lair. this is effectively a suped-up version of Koyanskaya of Dark, with access to unlimited weaponry and NFF-brand grenades, all of which work like standard "weapons of <x> slaying" do in D&D- they deal extra damage to humanoids, and can knock humanoids prone.

the big addition here aside from standard high-level-boss resistances is her Add to the Collection ability, where once per day she can try to forcibly plane shift a non-humanoid creature into a demiplane of her creation, basically putting them in suspended animation. this will be important for later.

form two is effectively Koyanskaya's big shadowy fox form. I didn't make any hard and fast rules about how these forms connect to one another, but I would probably say her masked form can turn into this combat form once a day, probably for a couple minutes at a time.

the gimmick for this fight is her Seasonal Cycle, which both reduces the number of legendary actions she gets to actually attack people each round, but also gives her buffs. I tried to keep this close to her lostbelt-based buffs in her final fight, but I also changed the names to be less FGO-centric if you want to use this build in a game. there's not a ton to say about this one that isn't regurgitating the seasonal cycle, it's just Masked Form with a bigger focus on kicking humanoid ass.

The big nipply form shown in the build picture has a lot of text, but I'll do what I can to break it down. This is Beast IV's final form, and it's the one that sets up the Tunguska Sanctuary in the first place, so there's a lot going on. Once again her humanoid-slaying effect grows larger, but she can only take this form in her lair, plus her speed is cranked wayyy down at this point. I just. cannot imagine that thing moving any faster than a crawl. if you need something done fast, that's what your lackeys are for.

speaking of lackeys, let's Reveal the Collection. this is a ten-minute ritual, which upon completion can summon copies of creatures that were stored by the Masked Form. The higher the CR of the creatures being made, the less you can make at a time, and the shorter your range is. there's also a lesser version of this you can do as a legendary action, and it's restricted to one creature at a time, of up to CR 10.

but of course, you need a place to put all those creatures! that's why she's got Regional Effects too! it's a whole lot of text, but it basically boils down to making a life zone and a death zone around her lair. half of your collection will tend towards the life zone, and half towards the other. in the life zone, the area is choked by plants, slowing down all humanoids in the area, and also healing effects targeting non-humanoids are more powerful. the death zone has extreme heat, and humanoids have disadvantage on saves against it. also, all summoned creatures in this region have double their normal perception distance when it comes to perceiving humanoids.

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

So overall, this build isn't a world-ending threat like Tiamat, or an orbital laser like Goetia, but she's not supposed to be a full-grown beast yet, so I'd cut her some slack. plus, if your party includes non-humanoid players you can make a dozen clones of them to fight the party which sounds like a really fun time. that being said, I do pity any DM who as to keep track of her seasonal buffs in a fight.

[theresattrpgforthat]

I saw your recent recommendations for psychic vigilantes games, but do you have recommendations for anything with a more inception or psychonauts feel (aka exploring/influencing dreamspaces or representations of a person's mind)?

THEME: Exploring Dreamscapes

Hello friend! When I first saw this ask, I thought I might have one or two games off the top of my head, but there’s actually many more game options than I thought already stored away in my folders! Without further ado…

Praedormitium, by Joie Martin.

Named for the transition of wakefulness to sleep, Praedormitium is a tabletop roleplaying game inspired by the experience of lucid dreaming. Players portray Hypnopomps, characters with the innate ability to manipulate the Realms of Dream as they travel through it on strange and wonderful adventures.

Praedormitium uses a deck of tarot cards as the basis of its resolution system, cooperative play, and the unlimited power of players' imaginations to build a cohesive narrative experience. Anything is possible in dreams, and the game can be as wild or whimsical, as dark or surreal as the players choose to make it.

This game has some really intriguing lore that creates some backstory as to why your characters are Hypnopomps, and what that means in the game. It’s not extensive though, so there are plenty of gaps and spaces for your play group to fill in. Your main role is to keep the balance of dreams: nightmares and phantasma all have a role to play. The game uses tarot cards, and incorporates tarot card suits into the lore, so if you like games that tie the mechanics to the setting, you might be interested in Praedormitium.

Lucid Sea of Dreams, by The Games Gardener.

A roleplaying game about Lucid Dreamers and their adventures, tribulations, and mysteries in the Waking World and the Sea of Dreams. Inspired by dreams,  nightmares, and Jewish folklore  (and much much more). Has been described as 'inside-out meets pan's labyrinth’.

Lucid Sea of Dreams makes lucidity something that your character can lose. Your character has Lucidity points, which kind of doubles as Hit Points - lose all of your Lucidity points, and you wake up. In the waking world, losing Lucidity points could lead to becoming unconscious, or even death. This means that there’s much higher stakes in this kind of game - in fact, it’s tagged as horror, so be prepared to enter dangerous scenarios and meet difficult foes. The dice resolution system uses d10 dice pools, which I personally find very satisfying! This game was Kickstarted back in 2022, so I’m not sure if it’s in its final stage, or if there’s more to come.

Nyx, by Doctor Glasgow.

When the Day of the Comet came, much of what was sank into the world below. Into the murky ebon twilight of a most ancient realm, Nyx. Since the very first sparks of light danced behind the eyelids of our ancestors, this realm began to swirl with Dreams. And yet, in sleep, there too, are Nightmares…

Nyx is a role-playing game, set in a darkened realm of sleep and dreams. It is an interpretive game, wherein the strange setting is only just barely glimpsed, like a dream half-remembered when one wakes from slumber. It is up to the players and the Dream Master (DM), to interpret the vague setting details as they see fit, and form a vision of Nyx wholly their own.

Nyx combines dice and cards in an average play session, with plenty of set-up questions to encourage a collaborative world-building and a point-buy system that fuels character creation. Your character is pretty customizable, allowing you to increase specific stats, improve character skills, or focus on special abilities and spells. There’s also different character forms, which I really like - as dream-entities, race or species don’t really make sense. It’s totally possible that your character has been different things over different iterations. The art in this book is lovely and does a really good job of conveying the magical and surreal theme. The full game is only $5, but if you want to see what you’re getting into first, you can always get the Free Beta version at the bottom of the shop page.

18XX Dreams, by Deep Light Games.

THE DREAM REALM WELCOMES YOU: This land has always been here, visited by some, forgotten by many. Something changed. An increasing number of people have been waking with fantastical ideas and feelings. Now, dreams are becoming more solid: books, paintings, scores… 

The barrier is thinner. Some are trapped here, some search for what they can’t reach elsewhere, some just roam, exploring and helping others. What meaning is hidden in your dreams?

18XX Dreams is only 4 pages long, which is pretty standard for 24XX games. This game relies on a handful of polyhedral dice, a small inventory, and special abilities that align with your character archetype - a minimalist set-up that focuses on creativity to overcome obstacles, with elements of OSR play. There’s a page of d12 roll tables for the GM to roll on when they want to introduce something new to the dream, and the game even comes with rules on how to create a DreamCrawl, a simple map that helps the players navigate different parts of a dream-scape.

Dreampunk, by Xavid.

At night, you dream. Your dreams are not idle imaginings, but visits to a persistent world of wonders and dangers both personal and alien. Will you find power there? Will you find freedom? Or will you slowly slip into Entanglement, and be trapped there forever? Play to find out!

Your character is a Dreamer, someone from a waking world who is drawn to the Dream when they sleep. As a Dreamer, you have powerful abilities to shape the world around you. To do so, you must play a card and incorporate into your action an element of your choice from the card.

To play Dreampunk, you’ll need to either buy the Dreampunk Deck of Cards, or a deck of cards with similarly surreal art. Dixit cards, for example, would be an excellent tool for this game. The game uses a series of Moves, but rather than rolling dice, like you would in PbtA games, you play cards from your hand. The game designer cites Belonging outside Belonging and Jenna Moran’s work as inspiration, so I’d expect this game to be well suited for players who are willing to work in the grey areas of interpretation, and who are looking to embrace themes and motifs rather than damage and gear lists in their style of play.

Onira’s Slumber, by FantasticJean.

Welcome to Oniria - a place where Dreams and Nightmares come to life and make the city their own. In this game you play as a member of the Quixotic Society and are tasked with investigating and containing the Reveries when they start becoming too messy. 

This is a game that is compatible with TROIKA, which, while originally is meant to be a kind of multi-verse science fantasy, easy translates to a surreal dream-scape. You don’t need Troika to play though - the rules are included to make this a standalone game. Onira is meant to be a place that can be explored, and the game comes with a number of place descriptions, special events that might affect the characters, and an introductory adventure for a first-time group.

If you want more dream-related supplements for Troika, I’d recommend Oneironauts and Oneironauts 2, by Thriftomancer.

[fairylandblog]

Types of Fairy Dust

Folklore, fantasy, and fairy tales have long used fairy dust to symbolize magic, transformation, and awe. Generally, stories depict fairy dust as a shimmering, ethereal material that grants wishes or allows flight, yet each story varies in its properties and applications. Each sort of fairy dust has its own abilities and properties, reflecting the many roles fairies and their magic play in human imagination. Flight-related fairy dust is famous. Fairy dust is a shimmering powder that lets characters fly in J.M. Barrie's Peter Pan. Golden, bright fairy dust requires belief and a joyful thought to activate. It symbolizes fairy magic's whimsical freedom and capacity to transcend physical constraints. The dust's association with happiness and belief shows that magic is physical, emotional, and spiritual.

Other fairy dust heals and protects. Fairies are sometimes kind and utilize their abilities to help people. People believe that their silvery or light blue dust has healing properties. This may heal wounds, treat ailments, and fight off evil spirits. Fairies, who safeguard the environment and humanity, exhibit compassion, much like this fairy dust. The fairies protect balance and harmony with this dust, which shields them from malevolent powers. Transformative fairy dust can change looks or make ordinary objects remarkable. This dust appears in stories where fairies help humans achieve a goal or conquer a difficulty. In certain fairy tales, dust can convert a pumpkin into a chariot or a torn robe into a ball gown. These cases show multicolored or sparkling dust, signifying magic's unlimited possibilities. This transformational dust represents change and the concept that magic may unleash latent potential or produce something spectacular from the banal. Dark or cursed fairy dust represents the darker side of fairy magic in several legends and fantasy worlds. Unlike its beneficent cousins, this dust is either black, gray, or dark and menacing. It causes turmoil, misfortune, and even harm to people it affects. Trickster fairies or evil spirits sometimes utilize it to prank or avenge offended humans. This dust reminds us that not all magic is beneficial and that fairies, like people, have complex and unpredictable agendas. Dreams and creativity are associated with rare fairy dust. People claim that this delicate, sparkling dust fosters creativity, enables vivid dreams, and grants access to magical realms during sleep. Sometimes, painters, poets, and writers connect it with dream fairies or muses. This dreamy dust suggests that fairies are representations of our inner creativity and amazement, linking magic and the human mind. Fairy dust in legend and fiction reflects fairy magic's complexity. Each variety gives wings, heals wounds, inspires imagination, or warns about enchantment's sinister side. Fairy dust symbolizes magic as a force that transcends the mundane and opens up possibilities beyond the natural world. It captures wonder and reminds us that magic occurs wherever we see it—through belief, imagination, or storytelling.

[catsinthebagdesignposts]

What Love Says… Imagination

Tune in and turn on your imagination. Can you give yourself permission to be playful, curious and imaginative? Being curious and enjoying all that is as it is, using your imagination as you embracing your inner child.

What would happen when you play with your inner spark and the complexity of life would you discover unlimited possibilities and potentials? Allow your heart to expand through imagination, love and light, embrace that.

When you choose to play, create and imagine like an artist that you are, everything takes you everywhere. Bring on your inner play with curiosity and you will find magic there, your imagination.

What really sparks your imagination and sets your heart glowing? What would happen as you see and inner-stand all that is within you? What if you observe everything through the eyes of unconditional love?

Allowing your inner child to tinker and play with loving curiosity, while you explore you through your imagination, you will grow. Choosing to explore and know yourself as you change through the course of life you will always bring balance to your heart.

Oodles of love and imagination to all.

What Love Says… 2024 by Jennifer R. Cook @catsinthebagdesignposts Daily messages from animal spirit guides assisting human beings to embrace all facets of love. Each post includes delightful animal illustration. Love thrives at eLOVEution book a session today!

[nicklloydnow]

“Mishima’s own capacity for change was marvelous. Novelist, essayist, playwright, poet, polemicist and eventual leader of a private militia—throughout his life, the bisexual aesthete was ever protean: existence was for him a “momentary shadow,” sustained first by words and later by muscle. From a young age, according to one of his contemporaries, Mishima “believed that he could become whatever he liked—the Emperor of Japan, a literary genius, even the kamikaze of beauty. He thought his potential unlimited.”

(…)

For Mishima, language came first. Words, he tells us, preceded things, the opposite of ordinary child development. This identification with words had the effect of divorcing him from physical reality. From the depths of his inner world, he recalled with difficulty the body—poor, put-upon, harassed and harried, borne about as whim and work duties dictated. His concern was that interior space through which thoughts and memories came and went like so many comets, where imagination and experience could be used to adorn an identity relentlessly rehearsing itself. Bearing this acute consciousness, for its first three decades, was his body’s thankless task. Well into maturity, and long after the advent of literary fame, the “orchard” of his flesh went untended, ran to ruin, even as he sought to imitate physical beauty in prose. The renowned author was a man divided against himself.

Then, laboriously, the muteness of the body gave way to speech. Beginning in 1955, at age thirty, Mishima committed himself to intensive physical training—weightlifting, running, boxing and kendo, Japanese fencing with bamboo swords. He compares it to acquiring a second language, the process being “an aspect of my spiritual development.” From his thin, undersized frame he raised muscle, as though animating a golem. The slow discovery of his body, its aesthetic beauty and practical power, opened a new domain of knowledge to him. “Little by little, the orchard began to bear fruit, and thoughts of the body came to occupy a large part of my consciousness.”

Mishima’s first thought was to assimilate the body to the mind, construct it as symbol or synecdoche: “to extend the scope of an idea from the spirit to the flesh until the whole physical being became a suit of armor forged from the metal of that concept.” He discarded this notion, and thereafter pursued a union between the two, between “powerful, sensitively-rippling muscles” and an active imagination. His great theme in Sun and Steel is the interpenetration of flesh and consciousness. Most of us, once our body stops growing, take it for granted, except in the throes of pleasure or pain. Mishima saw it, no less than the realm of ideas, as an unplumbed abyss. In her book Mishima: A Vision of the Void, Marguerite Yourcenar calls Sun and Steel “almost delirious,” and she is right—there are passages here in which the author is drunk on the revelation that the body, like literature, has its own difficult sublime.

It wasn’t always so. Of his early manhood, Mishima reports elsewhere, “I had been dissatisfied for quite some time by the fact that my invisible spirit alone could create tangible visions of beauty. Why could not I myself be something visibly beautiful and worthy of being looked at?” On the surface this is sheer narcissism. But the primacy of words for Mishima means that flesh cannot be mindless, a mere lump of matter: physical attributes are “outward, bodily tokens” of spiritual values. There is a brief catalog of distaste: “I had always felt that such signs of physical individuality as a bulging belly (sign of spiritual sloth) or a flat chest with protruding ribs (sign of an unduly nervous sensibility) were excessively ugly.” What Mishima wants is “classical balance,” like a Greek statue. By frequenting the boxing gym, by lifting steel weights, he is “reinstating [my body] in its natural form, the form that it should have had all along.”

(…)

In how many authors through the ages have extreme sensitivity and physical toughness been combined? You might name Cervantes, who fought a duel in Madrid—an arrest warrant was issued—and who was later wounded in the Battle of Lepanto, but there is a cruelty to Don Quixote; black laughter sweeps its narrative along. Go back to the Greek Bronze Age and you find the warrior-poet Archilochus, second in esteem only to Homer, but he too was hard-bitten, unsentimental about love as well as “the hot work of slaughtering.” Lord Byron makes a better paragon: swimming the Hellespont, training revolutionary troops in Greece. The immediate American example is Hemingway, another cat fancier, with his sweaty love of boxing and bullfighting, or that miniature Hemingway, Norman Mailer, who says in his book The Fight of Muhammad Ali that “the World’s Greatest Athlete is in danger of being our most beautiful man.” (In Zaire, before Ali’s fight with George Foreman, Mailer joined him for a training run.)

Though he loved Greece, Mishima’s chief model was thoroughly Japanese. After the war, he tells us,

I often thought and remarked to others that now if ever was the time for reviving the old Japanese ideal of a combination of letters and the martial arts, of art and action. For a while after that, my interest strayed from that particular ideal; then, as I gradually learned from the sun and the steel the secret of how to pursue words with the body (and not merely pursue the body with words), the two poles within me began to maintain a balance … [This] gave the appearance of inducing an ever wider split in the personality, yet in practice created at each moment a living balance that was constantly being destroyed and brought back to life again.

He has in mind the feudal practice of Bunburyōdō, the conjoined paths of literature (bun) and the sword (bu). To walk this dual way was the samurai ideal. “My aim,” wrote Mishima near the end of his life, “is to revive the soul of the samurai within myself.” Imagine a towering American writer, the most gifted novelist of his generation, seeking to embody the soul of a gunslinger, and you will have some idea of how quixotic this sounded. His mature prose has a muscular, ornamented style, like a mailed fist arranging flowers. In his final interview, Mishima admitted that the dualism of pen and sword “is an extremely difficult dualism to put into practice.”

At the time he began Sun and Steel, in 1965, Mishima was hard at work on Spring Snow, the first novel in his four-volume masterpiece, The Sea of Fertility. But after training his body for ten years, he was beginning to see the writer’s role as terribly limited. “He who dabbles in words can create tragedy, but cannot participate in it.” Who could? The man of action, who possessed the “powerful, tragic frame and sculpturesque muscles … indispensable in a romantically noble death.” In his scrawny youth, when countless boys of his generation were being annihilated in the Pacific, Mishima had been too weak to join them. “And it deeply offended my romantic pride that it should be this unsuitability that had permitted me to survive the war.”

Henry Scott Stokes, one of Mishima’s biographers, remarks that though Sun and Steel is “central to an understanding of his suicide,” it was hard to take the author’s “dire threats” seriously while he was alive. As with Plath’s histrionic poems, death dignifies what might otherwise be taken as a flight of fancy, mere verbal excess. Nowhere is this more apparent than in the parable of the apple. Imagine a healthy, ordinary apple, Mishima says, and the dilemma—“the subtle contradiction between self-awareness and existence”—posed by its core:

The inside of the apple is naturally quite invisible. Thus at the heart of that apple, shut up within the flesh of the fruit, the core lurks in its wan darkness, tremblingly anxious to find some way to reassure itself that it is a perfect apple. The apple certainly exists, but to the core this existence as yet seems inadequate … Indeed, for the core the only sure mode of existence is to exist and to see at the same time. There is only one method of solving this contradiction. It is for a knife to be plunged deep into the apple so that it is split open and the core is exposed to the light … Yet then the existence of the cut apple falls into fragments; the core of the apple sacrifices existence for the sake of seeing.

This is existentialism of an especially violent kind, the phenomenology of self-slaughter. The self-regarding apple anxious to confirm its existence is Mishima himself. Time and again in his work, the desire for beauty and the attainment of classical perfection lead inexorably to their destruction. Just as “the only physical proof of the existence of consciousness [is] suffering,” he writes in Sun and Steel, so his momentary happiness can “be finally endorsed only by death.”

The closing of this gap between seeing and existing comes in the story “Patriotism.” A Japanese army lieutenant commits ritual suicide, along with his wife, rather than betray his honor. Having committed themselves to the end, the young couple enjoys a night of superhuman passion, after which, having donned his uniform and written a brief farewell note, the lieutenant plunges his sword into his stomach:

Was this seppuku?—he was thinking. It was a sensation of utter chaos, as if the sky had fallen on his head and the world was reeling drunkenly. His will power and courage, which had seemed so robust before he made the incision, had now dwindled to something like a single hairlike thread of steel, and he was assailed by the uneasy feeling that he must advance along this thread, clinging to it with desperation. His clenched fist had grown moist. Looking down, he saw that both his hand and the cloth about the blade were drenched in blood. … It struck him as incredible that, amidst this terrible agony, things which could be seen could still be seen, and existing things existed still.

Death, claimed Mishima, was “the only truly vivid and erotic idea for me.” If you want, you can confirm his sincerity by tracking down lurid stories of his erotic adventures, in which roleplaying ritual suicide—a piece of red cloth standing in for the blood and intestines—reportedly allowed him to reach orgasm without even touching himself. Or, for that matter, touching anyone else.

Even party to a suicide pact, we die alone, and Mishima’s deepest fantasies were a closed loop, however much he acted them out or explored them in fiction. But a closed loop can be a kind of wholeness. He argued for “the totality of culture—which must embrace lightness and darkness equally.” At every point he was divided; at every point he craved absolute unity. He was conflicted, but not a hypocrite. If abundant physical health is pure being, oblivion is the ground of being. From this belief arose a haunting conviction, one familiar to the ancient Greeks but with potentially unsavory implications: “Tragedy calls for an anti-tragic vitality”—such as that of the sailor Ryuji in his novel The Sailor Who Fell from Grace with the Sea, who dreams of unspecified glory. Being buff, it seems, is a precondition for a hero’s death.

And so the famous novelist begins to dream of himself as a fighting man. In the army, even the smallest task is part of a larger war machine, linked with the idea of death. Emergency duty for a soldier represents a summons that no force in bourgeois life can rival. Just so, in the hard clarity of boxing and fencing, he “glimpsed from time to time another sun quite different from that by which I had been so long blessed, a sun full of the fierce dark flames of feeling, a sun of death that would never burn the skin yet gave forth a still stranger glow.” Eventually this dark star became his guiding light.

(…)

There is a way of inhabiting the body so completely that it transports you beyond itself. For all that Mishima regarded his ripped physique like a child with a new toy, a middle-aged man with a gleaming sports car, the body, in his metaphysics, is finally a stepping-stone: “Even the muscles themselves no longer existed. I was enveloped in a sense of power as transparent as light.” He wanted to reach the end of himself, and go beyond, as moths refuse to end their hunger in the cocoon.

What lay beyond? Only the splendor—as he saw it—of self-immolation. At 45, he was still in his prime, and a leading contender for the Nobel Prize—he’d missed it by a hair in 1968; the prize had gone instead to an older Japanese novelist, Yasunari Kawabata, the committee reportedly reasoning that Mishima was young enough to wait a few more years. Unbeknownst to them, he had set his mind on an early death. Dreading the moment when his body would break down, he had written, “I for one do not, will not, accept such a doom. This means that I do not accept the course of Nature. I know I am going against Nature; I know I have forced my body onto the most destructive path of all.”

Call it craziness or coup d’état, piece of theater or failed putsch: in retrospect, Mishima’s end seems inevitable. It was a death endlessly rehearsed—in “Patriotism” and the novel Runaway Horses, in which an idealistic terrorist takes his own life after murdering a businessman; in a series of photographs for which Mishima had posed two months earlier, and in which he is depicted both committing seppuku and as a car-crash victim, covered in blood; most clearly perhaps in the confessional pages of Sun and Steel. The book ends with a poem called “Icarus.” The tragic youth of Greek myth speaks of being torn between heaven and earth, between his impulse to ascend and the irresistible pull of a fatal crash. Indeed, he has crashed already:

Or do I then

Belong, after all, to the earth?

Why, if not so, should the earth

Show such swiftness to encompass my fall?

Granting no space to think or feel,

Why did the soft, indolent earth thus

Greet me with the shock of steel plate?

Did the soft earth thus turn to steel

Only to show me my own softness?

That Nature might bring home to me

That to fall, not to fly, is in the order of things,

More natural by far than that imponderable passion?

Gravity is a merciless god; falling, by divine decree, forever remains the more natural thing. That is how the story ends, but it’s not the whole narrative. Mishima once rode in an F-104 fighter jet. It was, unquestionably, one of the supreme experiences of his life; an account of it furnishes Sun and Steel with an epilogue. Forty-five thousand feet up, at Mach 1.3, he discovers that “intellectual adventure and physical adventure could join hands without the slightest difficulty. This was the point that I had always been striving towards.” Icarus, as the line by Jack Gilbert goes, also flew.

Last fall, amid a global pandemic, the fiftieth anniversary of Mishima’s death slipped by. In the end, his body was bearing him where ours are bearing us, every one of us. Death comes without warning for many of its victims, comes too early or too late, but for Mishima it was every bit as consciously conceived and stage-managed as the climax of one of his modern Noh plays. “To choose the place where one dies is also the greatest joy in life.” To him it was not mere tragedy, but apotheosis.

Here is what it is: we are each of us falling like space junk toward the unfathomable heart of the sun, but in the meantime it irradiates with meaning every atom of our bodies, every moment of our lives. See it as the sun of death, sure, the blood-red sun that symbolizes corruption and destruction, but also as the black sun of the alchemists, in the light of which we are changed—this heavy lead we lug around transmuted into gold. While we live, we are called to beauty, beauty and strenuous effort and self-discipline, a living balance of art and action. As for consciousness, what we call “I” may be only a shadow cast backward by the radiance of our impending demise.

Is this too grandiose? Possibly. I have been reading a lot of Yukio Mishima, and he has a way of getting inside you, kamikaze of beauty that he is, a way of enlisting you, like a Tatenokai youth, in his aesthetic program, his reality hunger, his world-destruction. Annexing you to his sword-bright consciousness. From that privileged vantage, the white-hot center of his life and art, you behold the flesh as a second language, intellection’s opposite pole, a vehicle of transcendence and a means of encountering—even glorying in—fundamental reality. You stand also on the brink of depression, despair, disastrous ideological commitments. Half a century hasn’t diminished the fascination of Mishima’s life and death, nor the feeling of existential risk when you read him: contemplating “the beauty of the body going to its doom,” you half fear that you might be dragged to doom yourself. To this day, I feel the same frisson when listening to Philip Glass’s String Quartet No. 3—the Mishima quartet, the movements of which have names like “1962: Body Building” and “Blood Oath.”

In The Decay of the Angel, 81-year-old Shigekuni Honda is tormented by a television shot of young people frolicking in a swimming pool. “Honda would end his life without having known the feelings of the owner of beautiful flesh. If for a single month he could live in it! He should have had a try … What Honda had missed had been the dark, narrow path through the flesh to holiness.” It’s too late for him, as the saying goes. But save yourself.”

[mhaynoot]

so did u guys know i got into orv only through seeing my friend's vague compliments to joongdok, comparison of the bridge scene to balance unlimited, and a really cute joongdok high school art (au but i did not know that then) and so you can imagine my genuine surprise when the fucking apocalypse happened but also when yjh threw kdj into a monster mouth and not just the river??

[iwonderwh0]

Androids can't get sick in a way humans can, but it doesn't mean they can't catch a virus in a computer way.

Within deviant society I suppose it wouldn't be surprising for some androids to spread a malicious programs among their android peers.

Especially for those models that are older and therefore lower in its processing speed, a feeling of injustice would be enough to spread a malware among newer models to 1) steal part of their processing power for itself 2) corrupt some parts of their system to slow them down. Both are just as a way of forcefully equalize them newer faster mfs with those older models. And because android-specific viruses/worms/trojans would be completely new topic within the world of those freshly-baked deviants it would spread like a wildfire. And the best parts? Humans will have no clue, it's hard enough to read a code written by other humans in languages designed specifically for humans to be readable, but android-specific lower level alternative of assembly written By androids themselves to be interpreted by other androids? Oh BOY

Other types of such malware may as well be targeted at gaining the access to the whole processing unit instead of only a part of it. Imagine the kind of android infecting others just to override their whole personality with their own, basically just gaining new bodies within its own hiv-mind. And what's scary about it is that the more bodies are controlled by this single consciousness the harder it is to stop it as the processing power adds up with each new infected android. The kind of zombie apocalypse but instead of zombies there are hundreds of androids possessed by a single mind.

Also Trojans. Mhm, imagine believing some android by word when it claims to create a patch to better calibrate your surface sensitivity, just to install it and discover that now you can feel PAIN or hunger or other unpleasant sensation with no adequate reason or a way to turn this shit OFF.

And the way it is difficult to detect if an android have some malware running within its system. In case it's the type of malware that steal processing power it could be possible to see externally as androids getting what looks like fever (overheating without obvious reasons to, like while running just background tasks), getting slower reactions, worse sense of balance (as this basic running process is overpowered by this malware running with a higher priority), worse face and object recognition.

Malware that turns off/corrupts your voice box, blurs out your vision OR deliberately filters your visual input not allowing you to see something/otherwise makes you see something that isn't actually there

Fuck, the possibilities are unlimited

I feel like I can ramble about it for a really long time, just let me know if you want me to, lol

[elisabethbabarci]

WARRIORS OF THE LIGHT

As we all stand united as a collective, we embrace our strengths through the positive periods and the challenging times.

We are all one — remember, support everyone around you. You have the capacity to give love and healing energy to those in need. Stand in your power and help those that need or require your assistance.

Always remember, you are your own source of happiness. You are also a role model to many known and unknown individuals.

Fundamental freedom is only achieved once we release all of the negative emotions that we have stored and find within ourselves to move forward through the process of forgiveness.

You are stronger than you can ever believe. Never allow anyone determine what you can achieve, think, or have the ability to do. You always have unlimited potential.

Be supportive of those that enhance our safety and security.

Understand and acknowledge that you always have a fundamental role in the change process. Change starts with you within, what you want to achieve is possible. Allow yourself the time to engage in the activities that make you feel powerful and embrace the joy that will balance your heart centre.

We are all warriors of the light. We stand with one another to offer support, assistance, love, and warmth.

Release all fears and acknowledge that you are in the here and now. Nothing matters more than the present moment. You can not control what occurs around you but you can control your reactions to situations. Always question, always learn, always grow with your experiences and release what is not needed. You are stronger than your past experiences, rise above them. Embrace the change and take the leap of faith that the new will be better than the old. Old structures crumble to create more stronger ones.

See beyond the illusions. Always engage your faculty of wonder. You are capable of more than you can ever imagine. Do not allow anyone to limit your potential. Do not allow the fear of being stung keep you from doing what is right. Do not allow uncertainty and negativity throw you off of your game. Get back in the ring. You got this! You can always achieve the best version of yourself. Shift your mindsets and acknowledge that you can achieve anything.

You can achieve anything. Move beyond your limitations. Face yourself and what is stopping you. Move beyond expectations and be the best version of yourself. You are responsible for you. You determine your life.

For anyone that you know that is feeling weak be their strength. Your compassion, time, and effort is always appreciated. Do what you feel intuitively is right and stand up for what you believe in.

If you are in a position to make a difference in someone’s life, be the impact that they require. Remember you are a role model, a hero, an inspiration in someone’s eyes. You have the ability to be the light that beams in all that surrounds you. You will always be valued, loved, and appreciated.

Take some time to be with your loved ones. Let them know you are present. You need to be the strongest element to help them in their daily lives through the good and the bad.

Reach out, connect, love everyone around you. You have the capacity to love without boundaries.

Love is the strongest gift you can give to someone in need. Encourage them. Bring the people you love strength not fear, happiness not sorrow, and demonstrate that you can prevail despite the odds.

Set a new tone and help others that need you. We are made to support and care for one another. You have the power and the knowledge to change any situation into a positive one.

Be you and love without limitation. Many Blessings!