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rebelfell · 3 days ago

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have some more bestfriend!eddie flangst, you animals.

a sequel to this, which is a prequel to this.

Johnny wasn’t so bad.

He was handsome enough and his cropped haircut suited his face. It showed off his high cheekbones and the angular lines of his strong jaw. He did crew, so he had nice broad shoulders with arms that were lightly muscled from lots of hours logged on the rowing machine. And he had a disarming sort of smile, his mostly straight teeth framed by strangely plump pink lips.

It was an odd thing to think, but he actually kind of looked a little bit like Eddie.

A distorted, alternate universe, almost cursed version of him, that is. Because, come on—Eddie Munson with blue eyes? Some things were too ludicrous to even consider. And picturing those warm and inviting deep brown irises replaced by Johnny’s cool, ocean blue orbs…

The thought alone almost made you shudder.

Aside from his looks, Johnny was also absurdly charming. He laid lines on you like it was his job and yet never came off smarmy or disingenuous. Confidence just oozed off him like molten lava, as if he had never experienced even a second of self-doubt one time in his whole life. Clearly, he kneels aware of everything he had going for him.

So no, Johnny wasn’t all bad.

But he wasn’t all good, either.

Your first few dates had all been at bars where you just happened to link up with some brothers from his fraternity. He then spent the majority of the evening carrying on with them, lazily draping his arm across your shoulders and whispering a sardonic running commentary in your ear.

He never outright ignored you, but it seemed there was always something to draw away his wandering eyes—a game playing on the TV, one of his friends sinking a shot in pool or hitting a bullseye in darts, a pretty girl in a low-cut top passing briefly through his peripheral vision.

It was never anything that felt worth exerting the effort of getting annoyed over, though. He’d been very upfront with you about what he was looking for and not being the “boyfriend” type. The word around campus was he was nursing a serious case of heartbreak and still carried a fairly massive torch for his ex, Crystal.

Which was quite honestly fine by you.

Like most of the people you dated, he was ultimately just a distraction. Someone nice and cute, inoffensive and disposable. Someone to keep you warm on particularly lonely nights.

And Johnny kept you extremely warm. Literally.

He always ran weirdly hot, which was nice in some respects. Like tonight, when he parked his car under the cover of some trees on the side of some deserted lane he found far too quickly for it to be coincidental. The moment he cut off the engine, the chilly evening air had begun to leak into the cabin and had you sitting closer to him in the backseat and clinging onto him a little tighter than you normally might have.

Kissing him was like making out with a furnace, but he was a very good kisser—no doubt having had plenty of practice. And the longer it went on, the harder it got not to think about the pair of lips his reminded you of so much. With your eyes squeezed shut and the two of you lit only by the scant traces of moonlight illuminating the edges of your entwined limbs, it became a little too easy to imagine a different set of hands running up your sides, sliding up your sweater.

But when your hand drifted up, fingers expecting to wind into long and wiry waves, and you found yourself gripping futilely at short blonde hairs behind his ears, the illusion shattered.

Your shoulders shook in a shiver as your chest was exposed, the simple lace bralette not nearly as insulating as your thick knit top. Lips popping off yours, Johnny pulled back to get a look at what he’d unveiled and you felt a little tremor of worry sneak down your spine.

“Huh,” he said with an amused chuckle.

Not exactly the reaction you’re going for when you take your shirt off for a guy.

“Something wrong?” you asked pointedly. His head jerked up, like he had forgotten there was a person attached to the body he’d been pawing at for the last hour and a half.

“Hmm? Oh, no, I just noticed something s’all,” he answered, surging in for another kiss.

You planted your hand in the center of his irritatingly toned chest and pushed him back.

“Noticed what?”

“S’nothing, baby,” he told you with an easy smile. “One of ‘em’s just way bigger. Look—”

And before you could say anything, before you could fully register what he was doing, he had put one of his hands on each of your breasts and he pushed them up to demonstrate. And it was hard, nigh impossible, to deny how your right one filled out his hand significantly more than the left.

With a huff, you yanked the bottom of your sweater down, forcing his hands to drop as well.

“What? What did I say?” he asked, blinking at you far too dumbly for someone as smart as him.

“Just take me home, please. I have a lot of work I need to get done.”

His mouth opened, no doubt to protest, but you had already pushed open the car door to climb out and get back in the front seat. You’d then spent the rest of the ride home quietly seething while he attempted to assure you he “didn’t mean it that way” and that “it’s not a bad thing.”

But even with his over-abundance of body heat, there was no chance of him thawing you out.

You honestly didn’t believe he said it maliciously, you just figured he could have been a little more diplomatic? It wasn’t like you didn’t realize there was a balance issue—they were your boobs for chrissake, did he think you never noticed?

It was just no one else had ever felt the need to point it out so thoroughly.

Still, you nodded mutely when he pulled up to your apartment and asked if he could call you the next day. And you hated yourself more for it with every stair you climbed to your floor.

The flashing light on your answering machine drew your eye as you skulked through the door and tossed your purse on the kitchen counter. The jangle of your keys sounded especially loud in your empty apartment and you heaved a sigh as you pressed ‘play’ on the way to the fridge for a beer. You’d just touched the rim of the bottle to your lip when you heard Eddie’s voice.

“Hey, I might need an emergency extraction ASAP—Steve and Robin dragged me to karaoke and they’re about to do dueling STYX covers. You’re my only hope! Come! Pleeeease!”

He sounded just a little bit tipsy rambling off the address of some bar he was probably outside of calling you desperately from a pay phone. If you closed your eyes, you could see his sweet and lopsided smile as he laughed into the receiver, his warm breath fogging up the glass siding, fingerless-gloved hands tracing shapes in the condensation while he talked.

A spiral. A lightning bolt.

The first letter of your name.

The machine beeped and his voice filled your apartment again, sounding much less jovial and much more sober, this time most likely calling from the comfort of the recliner in his trailer.

“Hey, sorry, I forgot you were out with what’s-his-name. Uhh…I just got home. Call me when you get in? If you want, y’know, assuming you’re not…busy. Or, um. N-never mind. Night.”

His message had barely finished playing before you snatched your keys back up and headed out the door. You couldn’t say for sure what spurred your spontaneous trip, but you didn’t stop long enough to wonder. Maybe you were just lonely. Maybe you were just sad.

Maybe you just needed to be around someone you knew wanted to be around you.

You let yourself inside his darkened trailer with the key he’d given you, sneaking silently down the hall towards his bedroom door that was outlined in gold from his bedside lamp on the other side. Had it not been for the rumble of his stereo, you might have thought he was asleep.

“JESUS CHR—”

The yelp he let out when you opened his door made you giggle. He scrambled to sit up, not so subtly flinging away the magazine that had been spread open in front of him. His top half was bare, tattooed chest heaving as he clutched at it and panted trying to catch his breath.

“You scared the shit out of me,” he accused, the fondness in his voice leaking through despite his attempt to sound angry. A smile twitched up the corner of your mouth as your brow arched.

“Sure you don’t mean the jizz?” you asked.

“I’m not—”

Eddie’s chest puffed up angrily until you fixed him with a Look that made it deflate. He glanced at the Heavy Metal on the floor and gave you a cheeky smile and a guilty shrug instead.

“That’s what you get for breaking an entering, sweetheart.”

“Well, you think you can get friendly with yourself a little later? I kinda had a bad night.”

The wounded tone in your voice caught Eddie’s ear. He nodded and gave you one of those “you don’t have to ask” sort of smiles you had kind of been hoping for. You nodded back succinctly and went to open the drawer in his dresser that had begun to accumulate your clothes.

“Do…do you wanna talk about it?” Eddie asked, his dry throat aching as he tried to swallow.

With your back turned, you couldn’t see the way his eyes l bulged when you tugged down your jeans to replace them with sweats, and you definitely couldn’t see the way he plopped a pillow on his lap as you stripped off your sweater and put on a t-shirt in its place.

“Nah,” you told him, resolute and flat. “It’s stupid, anyway.”

Eddie didn’t need to hear about some blonde douchebag feeling you up. He didn’t deserve that. It wasn’t like he cared about your dates one way or another. And it’s not like what happened was that bad, you reminded yourself again as he switched off the light.

You curled up on the side of the bed closest to the window—your side—and folded your arms under the deflated sack of feathers posing as a pillow to support your head. As you lay there, waiting for unconsciousness to overtake you, you heard the low murmur of Eddie’s voice that was drowsy with sleep and rough from the joint he’d smoked whose scent still lingered in the air.

Only the first bit, a slurred “g’night sweetheart” reached your ears. The rest was unintelligible. Something about shoving you?

“Did you say something?” you whispered to him.

“No,” he answered after a long pause. “No, noth…nothing important.”

if you had told me the guy who commented on our boobies in the first part was gonna end up being Johnny Storm…

ty for reading. love you, mean it! 🪭

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #stranger things

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thefirstknife · 21 hours ago

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My Grimoire Vol 7 (Penumbra) arrived and it's a banger. I'll post some illustrations from it and some new lore that hasn't been seen before.

The grimoire contains several full lore books: Unveiling, Regarding Stasis and Inspiral + multiple individual grimoires and lore tabs. It also contains some parts of several collector's editions (BL, WQ and TFS). I'll transcribe new lore under read more, but first! Intro and pictures:

Intro from Eris!

Friend. I write as a woman changed. My recent contact with the Darkness was as formative as my long-ago rebirth in the Light. So after all this, here, at the end, I will say: Do not ignore the changes we have endured, and do not disregard the difference between the Light and Darkness. It is not vanity for me to acknowledge that I have unique insight to impart. I have witnessed Darkness in all its forms, in all its terrible pain and contortions, and all the violence it inflicts. But despite this and above all, I see in it the aches and yearnings for a more complete world. There is collapse and indistinction, but also, there is preservation. Not stultifying, but vital. This is what I have learned. We have harnessed the Darkness because it beats harnessing. It has yielded the fruits of our future, nurtured against great opposition. Every boundary invites transgression. We are not beyond our own affronts, which have inevitably changed us. That is not weakness, or folly, or failure. I maintain that balance is not equity. I do not accept the Darkness on the same terms as the Light. Darkness is a tool to be used and a path to walk, but it is not our essence. We must hold fast to that understanding. To do otherwise invokes delusion. The Darkness and the Light are not opponents, but neither are they allies. There is a natural conflict between them, but we have the capacity to hold contradictions within ourselves, and so they mingle with great effort on our part. That is the beauty of our complexity, the purview of the Light. Our safe contact with the Darkness is only possible because of the Light. Even so, the Light exists not as our protector, but as our guide. That is all I wish to impart. To every fire, its fuel, Eris Morn.

This is the illustration for Clovis' dream from the Traveler in which the Traveler appears as a wolf, from BL CE. The dream is in the book. More under (seriously long post below):

These are two Darkness grimoires with this additional drawing.

It Stared Back with the illustration of Calus. There's also this page of the Confessions lore book.

This grimoire with the illustration.

The entire Unveiling, the illustration is paired to "The Flower Game" page.

Drifter illustration paired with his entry in the TFS lore book, Chirality.

They put THE lore of all time, Pujari and the Black Garden, and paired it with this illustration.

The entire Regarding Stasis lore book and illustration with this page :)

A lot of stuff from the WQ CE, this illustration of Ikora going ham on Shaxx and Zavala and Ikora playing their game included.

The entire Inspiral lore book is here as well, with these two illustrations.

Mataiodoxia lore tab with this illustration. Subjugator!

And now! New lore. Some of these may be upcoming lore pages? Or they're only for this book, unsure yet. But either way, they're not in the game as of now.

Club Morgue Ahsa, lay low your flukes. Doff your cap and coat. You're safe here. You know you'll keep your promise to find the place where this all began. But for now, rest. No, I'm not death, though it is my tool. "Nothing" doesn't interest me, you understand? A flawed existence is preferential to none at all. Things are the way they have to be, instead of the way they'd like to be. Ah, Ahsa. You saw it all - the extinction, the extermination, the gamma-ray bursts burning up your garden worlds, the singularities eating up infant suns. It hurt you so! And you turned to me, asking why it had to be. I didn't answer. I never do. I'm a question. It's up to you to find the answer. Build the castle. So far they all fall over, but maybe one day one won't. How? I don't know. Figure it out, do the work, ask the question. What will remain in the end, when the stars go out, and creation freezes in the half-light of evaporating black holes? These killers you're after. They were very much like you, Ahsa. They wanted to know why; why there had to be life, why there had to be death. But then, not liking the answer they made for themselves- Well. You'll see. Go on, Ahsa. Someone's coming to see you, and I'm sure she's got a real humdinger of a proposal for you to hear. Her sister, though... it'll really wind her up if you die by any other hand but hers. She means to take you for her worm. And she pretty much runs this town, truth be told. Watch yourself out there. It's a war zone.

I will assume this is future lore tab for Heresy. Deals with the Hive and someone talking to Ahsa. Very strange speaking tone, reminiscent of Unveiling to me. Obvious mention of Savathun ("humdinger of a proposal") and Xivu who apparently wants to take Ahsa as her worm. Very strange overall, probably lacking in context from the next episode, but a nice little treat for what might be coming in Heresy. Would love to see more on Ahsa!

Charybdis It seemed so simple to me when I first heard it: the strongest survive. It's obvious. If it can be destroyed, it must be destroyed. And in that destruction, the victor becomes even stronger. Kind of like Guardians, honestly. All of us. It makes sense of how we grow. Take the Crucible. We sharped our skills against each other in the arena. The less skilled become fodder - for a match point, for practice, for testing new ways of burning or electrocuting or... spaghettifying. Those who reach the top climb stairs made of bodies. Sword logic seems simple, clean, beautiful. Scooped out of Hive goop and guts, it shines like a searchlight, a bright beam cutting across the sky in perfect straight lines. But there's something more to it. Some extra... magic? The Hive do magic, sure. Runes and math and a sharp edge. What are the Hive doing that we can't do? Or is it more about the Darkness than the Hive? Or is it both? I need to know. To be part of it. I decided the best place to start figuring it out was by studying Hive. The way they live, the way they die. And no one looks at me twice for going after Hive - any good Guardian fights Hive, right? I beat through Thralls and Acolytes with my burning mauls. It got routine. And one day, as typical as any other, I realized how easy it was, how these Acolytes were barely worth the air they breathed if they were just going to break like simple bone - but then, something changed. I felt it. My mind reshaped into sword-thinking. I began to practice it like I lived it, and then I did live it. It was part of me, and I of it. You'll feel it, too, if you follow that path. You'll know when the sword goes from being your weapon to part of your arm. I became one with the sword, and the Light in my hands burned brighter and brighter. Since then, I've just been getting stronger. I triumph, and the Light sings, and from my heart to my fingertips, I am alight with glory. Again, and again, I prove my existence to be the truest thing: that I am more real than any other who strives to strike at me. My sword, my self, is forged in Light, and it is hungry. What else can I do with this sharpness that I have cultivated so carefully? What else could WE do? How strong could we become? We Guardians are worthy. I know I can yet become sharper. // ACCESS: RESTRICTED DECRYPTION KEY: 32C49KLD032XAR-612 HIDDEN AGEND: [REDACTED] RE: VIP #1290 Departure from the City Confirmed VIP #1290 has left the Last City without further incident. Hidden agents have traced her trail and have destroyed data and materials left behind to avoid potential misuse or corruption. However, VIP #1290 eventually discovered the Hidden tracker and burned it out - so she's in the wind. Ghost status currently unknown, but probably alive. At least for now. At this time, recommend scouts do not approach. She's dangerous enough without us feeding her. At least she's out there, not in here.

Another one that seems like something coming up in Heresy. Some Guardian who we only know is a Titan has started practicing the Sword Logic and she's dangerous and currently missing. VIP number is brand new, it doesn't match any of the existing ones so we don't know who this is. Either not entirely important, as it's just one small look into what's going on or it's something that will be further elaborated in Heresy. That is, if my assumption that these are going to be lore tabs in the game is correct. Certainly feels like it.

Next is a new lore tab from Osiris! On the left is an old lore tab, on the right is new.

On Concerns, Previously Expressed Ikora, You know as well as I that the Vex yet require attention. I have said before - many, many times - that their threat is greater than any other. And while the recent depredations of the WItness have proven this set of priorities temporarily mis-ordered, I fear that the threat of the Vex may not only spread in the aftermath, but also go underestimated. It is tempting to let our guard down and breathe easy. We cannot. Before my exile, I made plain my opinions on Light and Darkness, on the foolishness of considering them "good" and "evil." This remains true, doubly so now. Our enemy was never the Darkness itself, but that which worked within it. And that childish division of good against evil has distracted from the unceasing enemy: the Vex. They care not which force they grasp. They care not about morality. They care - if one can call it that - only for convergence. They advance, and they will not stop unless we stop them. Every time they have closed their gap to paracausality, even in the smallest way, it has been nigh disastrous. I am sure I need not remind you of Quria, of the eternal night that threatened to fall over the Last City. Of the Black Heart, that Vex attempt to recreate the Veil which could itself have been catastrophic. Of the Black Garden, and the remnant of the Witness that Guardians found there, redolent of Darkness. We may not yet have seen what happens when the Vex grasp the Light, but I assure you, if it has not yet begun, it soon shall. Time is inevitably limited, until the Vex in their infinite adaptability learn how Light and Darkness both may be turned to their advantage. It is my recommendation as advisor to the Vanguard that the Vex be logged as the most urgen enemy of sentient life, both of the Last City and the growing alliances formed these past years. Please, Ikora. I would not raise this yet again if I did not believe it to be of utmost importance. Consider it well. -Osiris.

NO CLUE where to place this one. It's definitely not in the game, so either also upcoming lore or just in the book. What makes me suspicious about it being upcoming lore is that the name is too big to be an item, so maybe a lore book page? But Heresy is largely going to be about the Hive so I'm intrigued about a letter from Osiris to Ikora urging her to act on the Vex being relevant. Other than that, it's Osiris back to cooking about the Vex. He is out here literally "as per my last email"-ing Ikora and continuing the same argument he's had for centuries. I am also wondering where is this lore tab in relation to the stuff from Echoes. It's likely post-Witness' defeat, but no idea if it's also after Echoes. Osiris is definitely worried about them getting paracausality and reaching for the Light. Future setup? Very cool, I ate it.

Both of these are new.

On the Witness My Hidden friend, The neonate worm, Ahsa. She spoke to the Guardian, and this is what she imparted: Look to the place where the Witness formed. An exhausted world, made so long ago that even silicon was a luxury. That is where the hunt began. The Traveler graced that world. But it wasn't enough. Those who lived there saw a creation born to die. They wanted it to mean something. It had to mean something. And if it didn't, they would make it mean something. For, in their view, to make something was to understand it. I understand this impulse too well. But they chose a truly rotten betrayal. To open up and take, and remake, their god. And they would use the Darkness to do it. Finding no meaning at all in the act of creation, they decided, that the only place left for reason, intent, and consciousness to reside was in the act of elimination. If their god the Traveler made things for no reason, then a merciful, purposeful winnower must have good reason to remove them. In mimicry of this belief, they winnowed themselves down to a single awareness - all their thought and pain compressed into a bombshell of consciousness and intent. Magnificently aware of all the universe's failings. A conscious witness to the testament of the Light's sins. A final, ruinous creation born of their civilization. A knife. And it set out after the Traveler. Not to destroy it, but to defeat it. To impose a will upon an absence it saw as unacceptable. Negligent. To dictate, by force, how things ought to be. The motive is to impose meaning upon Dark and Light beyond mere primordial dynamics. The killer is an anthology of this ancient civilization's rage at their god's silence. I find that I pity these vanished people. But if all the cosmos turned inward, as I turned inward for a while, as these people turned inward forever, then we would all be alone. Yes, it is awful to face loss. But we must keep cooperating in the face of all extinction. Or there can never be anything better. This is all I know.

Also most likely coming up in Heresy. Wild stuff in here. Ahsa is mentioned again; I'm not sure if this is referring to what Ahsa showed us back in Deep or if she'll be showing us something more. Obviously it would be spoilers to tell us everything but these little bits and pieces are unhinging my mind. No idea who is talking here and to whom; my assumption is that Mara is writing to Eris, mostly because Mara says "My Hidden friend" to Eris in the Taken King opening cutscene. What to say about this other than I am insane. More about the Witness and its civilisation please.

Cacophony, Euphony We listen. We witness. We wait. Through the Darkness, we hear a single voice. With a thought, we are there, to touch the mind that reaches into this domain. Cradled by Darkness, it asks a question. We answer this one, like we have others. We are generous with answers. Not all beings can understand the answers we give, but we try. Again, and again. None ought to cry out, only to suffer no answer. There are always more voices in the Darkness, reaching out. We turn. Far distant, there is a people lacing ribbons of Darkness through their thoughts to bring them closer together, that no one might be divided from the purpose they have dreamed for themselves. But they have no come to Darkness through the Gardener's neglect - it is simply their natural course. In time, we shall enfold them into our shape, but they need not urgent salvation. Our presence drifts. And still, we listen in the Darkness. There is violence that corrodes constructs like peace. There is the Hive. Some resist the rampaging Hive, crying out into the Darkness. It is to us they reach, in the end. We hear their pleas and grant them succor, salvation, enshrining them in our monument. Toward our inevitable final shape. There is time enough to reach out to the farthest corners of Darkness, to inhabit it so deeply and thoroughly; we will hear whomever calls out in it. We will answer. We will always answer. Even that which passes temporarily below our notice will be found again; and we will hear those questions and give purpose. Give salvation. Always, we listen for signs of the Gardener. Our Disciples pursue it still, to pluck it from the chords of infinity. We listen. We wait.

This is a banger. Also probably coming in Heresy (or after?). Very curious about this one. There's indication that this is from the Witness while it still lived; the speaking as "we," the name mentioning "euphony" (Salvation's Edge raid exotic also with curious lore in regards to the Witness), saying "our Disciples." It also makes sense; the Witness felt betrayed and abandoned by the Traveler who never spoke back and never answered questions or given directions, so the Witness sought to do the opposite. It's why it was so easy to fall under its influence; the Witness always reaches back. And it's all framed as the Witness believing it was helping. I also love how it mentions other species that were using Darkness naturally; they aren't specified, but we know they existed. Either way, I'm obsessed.

Finally! These two are also both new and it's how the whole book ends. This is a different "Winnowing" from the one in Inspiral.

Winnowing I have come to delight so in this: in possibility, and its end. Oh, I kicked and fought and screamed about it at first! I was fond of what we had! But the table was upturned, and a knife cannot be un-invented, and so here we are. The rules changed - a little. The pattern altered - but a micron. I got used to it, as they say. People can get used to anything, and the same holds true for concepts that have existed before and after time itself, though it may take an eon or twenty. So here I am, among the stars. They burn so brightly, but given a billion or ten billion years, they chill: their mass reduces to nothing but throbbing embers, at last gasping into stillness and ash. Even the loudest of celestial roars cannot outpace infinity. I am assured. I have come around. There is charm in diversity, in the uncountable ways a speck of cosmic dust may climb to cognizance and philosophy, only to find the same old truth of decay. Again and again, I am proven right: it all ends the same. It isn't about violence, mind you. It's about inevitability. Simplicity. The unnecessary removed, the requisite remaining. Whether the knife is made of metal or the folded layers of time, it matters no. The pattern triumphs. The stars burn out. And I am right. So every being made in that garden of possibilities, every creation that looks at infinity and comes to my same conclusion - why, I cannot help but love them. The rules were altered, and still they have said: here is the truth. Possibilities do not change what is. The pattern is the pattern, and its reliable certainty is its beauty. Even a cheater of eternity cannot yet win its wager. The game is longer now, but I will be its victor. In this eon, or a thousand hence.

Losing it seriously, I'm losing it. This is a clear throwback to Unveiling and Inspiral and also Nacre! It is the same speaker or emulating the same speaker at least, so we'll call it "Winnower." I really like how it calls itself a concept. There's not really much to say other than delving into a 10k word essay on the philosophy and concepts and options and possibilities (hah) so yeah. Very obviously referring to the Flower Game and the change in rules with paracausality and how this entity still believes itself to be correct and how it will still win in the end. Since it literally refers to itself as a concept, I will continue treating this whole thing as allegorical rather than talking about it as some real character, at least until further notice. There's a lot of metaphorical language going on here and I will continue looking at it as such rather than making clickbait statements like "this is the new antagonist and we'll fight it in a raid in 10 years." Maybe! Who knows. For now, all we have is yapping like this and this thing calling itself a concept and talking in allegories. Either way, absolutely stunning piece of lore. There's a reason my favourite thing ever is Unveiling and it's this mystical, religious incomprehensible information from a thing that maybe exists beyond time and space, who everyone can interpret in a different way. 10/10

Gardening You delight in possibility. The same action, over and over, only produces the same results if all circumstances are the same. But there are so many variables - a million different outcomes may spring forth from one action. One stray atom changes a lifetime, and one breath of wind, an eon of history. Choice is infinite; and possibility, endless. To some, it is only statistics. But you have ever been captivated by that miracle. You know stagnancy. You have seen it many times: the same stable oblong it all comes down to when growth has ended. The soft-pulsing oscillation over one spot, never truly carrying on further until stirred by some outside force. A depletion of possibility, the flowers never finding further growth, even if they never die. A single breath might be enough to change it. You understand, of course, that a breath is a breath, and a flower is a flower. That, having bloomed, the petals will one day fall. Still you guard the next flower, and the next, for there is meaning in the moment of bloom. So you breathe. So potential spirals, like seeds floating on the wind. One breath. Barely a whisper. Nothing more than that. And for such a thing, the gift of infinity. Always, always, you look on with hope.

Obviously as opposed to Winnowing, there is Gardening. I believe this is the Traveler's POV, primarily because it's told in second person, which is typical for the Traveler. Also because of everything is says and how it ends. Like an opposite of the previous entry. What a banger to end the whole book with, both of these side by side. Again, probably new lore coming in the future, or maybe just for this book? These could honestly be grimoire-exclusive, but who knows. Much to think about, much to look forward to.

It's a really good grimoire. They all are honestly, if you can grab these physical books, I highly recommend them. This is one is really nice because it also has several entries that are otherwise locked to collector's editions and it comes with all of this new stuff as well. The illustrations are, as always, peak.

Hope y'all enjoy this, especially the new stuff.

#destiny 2 #grimoire #long post

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