#help 'power should flow not force itself'??

[queenpiranhadon]

A/N: You all voted on this poll, and this poll, and this poll, and after a LOT of voting, I present you this :) BIG thanks to @that-multi-fandom-hijabi for beta reading this go follow her writing acc rn (@novaaaaaa-writes). Here's my masterlist!

Warning(s): Enemies to lovers trope, mentions of burning, stabbing, blood, bad descriptions of both fire of water (ice, snow ?) bending, Zuko is whipped, just a little confused about it, reader is a baddie, water benders unite (not me tho), reader is GN but written with f!reader in mind, reader looks non-threatening, is underestimated a lot, this takes place at the end of season one, I think that's it

Pairing: Prince Zuko x GN!Reader

•──•°•❀•°•─── ʜɪꜱ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀʙᴇɴᴅᴇʀ ───•°•☁︎•°•───•

“You shouldn’t be here” you glare, your gaze sending shivers down his spine. 

But that could just be because of all the snow and ice surrounding the both of you. 

The fire prince remains unfazed though, his amber eyes sweeping over your form- assessing the threat you posed. 

He could take you down in seconds. 

Zuko doesn’t respond to your jab though, because he knew you were wrong. He had to be here, it was the only way he could finally receive his father’s favor- as the heir and as the son of Firelord Ozai. It was his duty, his honor. 

And he wasn’t going to let a non-threatening waterbender get in the way of that. 

Reaching back, he unsheathes his dual swords, the glint of the waning moonlight reflecting the dangerous glint in his eye. 

And yet you didn’t back down.  

Pooling some water from your waterskin, you assumed the stance you had trained yourself to take whenever you honed your skills. One with the water, one with the ice.  

‘Power should flow, not force itself” Master Pakku had told you once.  

People had always underestimated your skills, saying you were better suited for healing. But after showing Master Pakku how you could use your bending to control the falling snow around you, he gave you a chance.  

He had told you to let the power settle in your body before releasing, instead of forcing it out immediately. Conceal and then control. 

You met Zuko’s fiery gaze with an icy one of your own. You were going to protect your home.  

With a yell, you form flurries of snow, whipping around your form as you channel your strength to change the form of your flurry, snow turning to water, water turning to sharp daggers of pure ice.  

Zuko scowls, setting his hands ablaze and you run at each other, fire meeting ice.  

Time slows down, as the intensity of your elements picks up, until all you could hear was the steady thump – thump – thump – of your heart, and the roar of crystalline knives swirling around you. 

Flames lick the side of your leg, wincing as the raw burn of the fire sears through your skin in white-hot pain. Razor sharp icy shards cut into Zuko’s skin, finding chinks in his armor, piercing his flesh and drawing blood. 

The snow beneath the both of you was dotted red now, both of you staring at each other, panting heavily.  

“You really shouldn’t be here.” you repeat again, but this time, it was barely a whisper, swallowing down tears as the cold wind of the Northern Water Tribe stung your gaping wounds. 

Zuko growls, grunting in pain as he pulls a shard of ice out of his skin.“I don’t take orders from a little waterbender” he spat, venom dripping from his words. 

You reciprocate with a snide comment of your own. “This ‘little waterbender’ just sunk 5 icicles into your skin.” 

Zuko was just about ready to tear your head off, hands igniting with vermillion flames before you collapse, the burns along your thigh and calf were much more severe than either of you realized.  

You choke out a sob of pain but keep your control of the water left in your waterskin. You couldn’t die, not today, and not at the hands of the prince of the Fire Nation.  

Zuko’s heart throbs unexpectedly, the look on your face too familiar for comfort. The face of someone who worked so desperately hard, only for all that effort to go down the drain. But he didn’t care for you. He couldn’t- couldn’t grow attachment to a non-threatening waterbender. Yet you sat there on the snow, dotted with blood, with that raw look in your eyes. His flames extinguished, without him meaning to.  

You flinched as he threw his swords down frustrated, impaling themselves into the nearby snow mound, standing straight up. 

He stomps over to you, and you frantically move back, but your leg flares up in pain again, and you yelp, hissing in pain.

“Stop moving, you’ll make it worse.” he says, glaring at you, but not as intensely as he had before.  

You want to scream, kick him, punch him, anything, but your body betrays you as he sweeps you up into his arms, carrying you to the nearest place he can find, where he can keep you safe. You feel his strong arms hook under your knees and under your back, holding you securely to his firm chest. Even through his armor, he radiates warmth, a gentle heat, unlike the flames he threw at you merely minutes ago.  

He hates this, with every fiber in my being, his voice screaming at him to drop you and burn your frail body to a crisp, vengeance for the blood dripping from his own body, but he keeps moving, step after painstaking step. 

You try to stay awake, you really do, yet channeling so much energy from your battle, the numb throb in your lower leg, and the comforting heat radiating off the fire prince who refuses to look at you, you slip into unconsciousness.  

Zuko feels a weight press against his chest, and he huffs, honey-colored eyes catching onto the details of your face, the curve of your nose, the apples of your cheeks, the slight pout of your lips as you nuzzle into his armor unintentionally, how pretty you were when you were at peace. 

He stops himself there, reprimanding himself for thinking such things. He can’t have feelings for the enemy. 

And yet, even as he and his troops head home, battle wearing and dejected from the loss of a major battle, Zuko can’t help but think about his little waterbender.  

*** 

When you wake up, the kind woman tending to you tells you all about the mysterious and handsome man who carried your sleeping form across the entire Northern Water Tribe because he didn’t know where the healing center was.  

[ancientgoddessofegypt]

All About The Trines Pt. 1 : Sun's Rising

Alright, so today's focus is about the beautiful trines in astrology.

Whether its in the natal chart, synastry, or even a transit. Trines are very interesting associations that connect the planets together. It is a natural force that takes just a tiny bit of effort, but once you get a taste of it, you gotta pull its string a little. Just so you can get more of it. When you do this, it'll become a stronger sensation. And it will mean much more throughout your lifetime (natal) if you play your cards right.

So whatever planets you have trine in your chart, also look to the houses. Because it shows that the energies of these houses blend together to create something natural, powerful, and authentic.

So, here is a few observations I have on some trines. This'll be part 1 because there is so many, but if you feel I missed yours or your just interested in learning different trines in any chart, feel free to let me know and I can add it in pt.2.

So you ready? Lets ride.

Sun trine Moon

To have this in a natal chart shows theres a compassionate nature that comes out of the individual. They have a creative force that is authentic, yet inspirational. Interesting, but very divine. You attract people like honey, and your words fuel the gates to return to heaven. I mean that seriously. Its a beautiful placement overall. It has this flow that is strong, yet soft. Blissful, yet hard to come by. These people seem to be protected by a hidden force that is deeply felt. Like their connected to the archangels or something. A sun trine moon individual must weave their power in order to get into their bag. In order to truly capture this, they must allow their souls to express itself freely. And whatever feelings come out of the surface is what they should allow to flow through air, and allow others to flow with its being.

Sun trine Jupiter

A person with this special persona is up for a real treat. Lucky experiences can take shape in the houses these two planets are in. They change abruptly, thats jupiters domain. This release they feel comes from the brain, and out into the world. The body holds onto this magic, and awaits for it turns to absorb any more of it that they can get. This is so that when the time is right, they can create realities out of thin air. And have a magical race into the sunset. Lol. its a one of a kind placement.

So lets get serious for a bit, sun trine jupiter placements have a knack for picking up on the finest lines of social stimulation. So much so, they tend to get into fortunate experiences every chance they get. They know to take a chance and to allow things to come in when need be. Optimistic nature is a given, so they dont work to hard to get what they need/want. This might be different if Jupiter is in retrograde, as time and time again it will show a different discretion. Hoping for something different and not getting the results (we will talk about retrograde planets in aspects later). Overall, this placement is a natural force of divine intervention, and a worthy placement to have when you're feeling good & lucky.

Sun trine Mars

There energy is always up for the challenge. Their honestly gifted in areas where their soul can jump into high intensity inducing things. Their energy is powerful, strong and vital. And this type of placement needs more time and structure than any other. It is because this placement needs time to focus its energy onto something, as martians typically need to put themselves on overdrive to use up some of that intensity they have in their bodies. Their expression (sun) ties real well with the bold like persona (mars) of an individual who knows what they want. These people are pretty confident naturally, and need no ones help on getting to what they desire. Although it would be nice, these placements typically know their way around. Because it is a trine, its flow and force is deeply penetrating. I would say this makes them more well liked but it isn't true. Martians tend to be unlikeable due to unconfident people or others not being able to catch the flow they have and tame it. Its inspirational by nature because it uses its force to capture an authentic moment that describes who they are. Their just naturally equipped to due dangerous things, or things people are too scared to do and shy away from, This is what makes them sexy. If you have this placement or anyone with it, please tell them to try new things that dare them to go above and beyond. You dont know what'll make of it, thats the surprise all along. It's truly a one of its kind.

Sun trine Pluto

Ah, the gift that keeps on giving. Here, I believe this placement can be very authorative. It has a special quality to it where people who heal others can weave their ability to make amends with the psyche and what wounds they've been carrying around for some time, and open up to a higher awakening so that their souls can meet a new cycle they've been dreaming of for a while.

These individuals have what it takes to move on from cycles that no longer serve them. Their energy is built on capturing the moment to when it times to breathe their last, they are transforming into the next big thing. Every single time. It's like the butterfly effect but in human form. Its capable of treating others in a way that reflects back into their inner circle. That domain they keep their hidden selves in up until they meet a sun/pluto individual. You make them wonder what its like to live on the other side. On edge. On an emotional rollercoaster, but the one that shares its joy and authenticity at the end of the ride. It makes you wonder, what are they truly hiding? Because they make themselves look so well put together after everything done.

Sun trine Saturn

Structure & Foundation is a karmic blessing for them. They do have a gift inside of them that helps them get through the day. They understand that things really don't come as hard, but as easy as people say. I love this placement simply because there is a sense of maturity already present in the individual, that they don't need to oversell it and potentially lose their childhood. They kind of know what they want and what they have to do to get it respectfully so they can grow into that thing they are looking into. It's like a person who is consciously aware they're like a 'tree', one that grows with time and can't be rushed.. so their patience for things is really top tier (unless they have other placements with mars that say otherwise). They naturally carry a sense of wisdom that is given to them by birth, and they tend to know what their talking about early on. Even if they haven't gone thru it themselves. Great and carrying personas and could be like teachers even at a young age. A wonderful placement to catch in the chart.

Sun trine Neptune

Oh my gawd. These wonderful placement holders have a GIFT from God. Naturally empathetic, intuitive, and can really see into the soul. Their so talented in what they do and what they come up with and they intrigue people (like their sun/uranus buddies) in a propelling way. They are the light that the world needs when things get to ugly, to dark, to serious. They connect to the ethers in a way that others may have forgotten, or have never knew before. The way sun trine neptune can pick up on energies before it shows up in the room, or the way they are able to read other people and understand the differences between them and others makes them likeable and rejected by society at the same time. Like I said, they can be pretty interesting. But there connection to the stars is unmatched.

Sun trine Uranus

Compelling natures. Quick-witted. And has a looooooad of information in those brains that can't go unnoticed. Literal geniuses in those little bodies of theirs. Their intellectual but their force is so much more than that. You can't keep up with them. Their literally 20 years away while everyone is trying to catch up. Make fun of them now, copy them later. It's the usual. They know they shock the world, but do they care? Not exactly. There is an innate understanding on how the world works, and their rebellion is far past the way society moves. They're just different, theres nothing for them to prove. They ease into this as they age as well.

Sun trine North Node

Rahu has its mark here.. Very interesting considering that their mortal enemies. In a trine its no different. These two have a fiery nature when together. So a person with this in a natal chart have a drive that is incapable of stopping any time soon. There destiny wants it, but do they need it? They have to go with the flow, which is incredibly interesting because trines work that way. But with rahu against the sun? Whew. They got some work to do. If it’s talent you wanna see, then with this placement you just might get it. You gotta work hard at it though because rahu isn’t letting up lol.

Sun trine South Node

Beneficial factors play here because ketu is sweetened with the suns magic. Your souls purpose becomes a factor in a way that you aren't creating anything out of thin air, it just comes to you. Your soul's spirit was ready to take on the mission since the day you was born. So you're capable of anything. You just have to wait for the right time, because it's divine intervention that takes the cake here.

I hope you guys enjoyed this small interp on the trines connecting to the sun! Beautiful placements.

Also if anyone was wondering, the sun cannot trine venus and mercury since they can't be no more than two signs away from each other. Hope that helps.

Anyways, if you have any questions feel free to ask in the comments!

[hestzhyen]

What's in a Name? (Sazanami Clan)

Sincerely sorry for spamming you, dear void. Think of this as a purge of ideas that have been percolating around for a while but were never given time until now. Anyway, let's take a look at the kanji meanings for the Sazanami clan members' names! ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

Much like parents creating a name for their children, authors often put their wishes and intentions for the character into the name selection process. Kagurabachi is no different- the Saznami's names showcase how much thought Hokazono put into creating the characters to fit seamlessly into the story.

I'm not a pro at Japanese so these interpretations are based off of a lot of research only.

Without further ado:

漣 (sazanami, most commonly read as ren) means "ripple". An indirect reference to the inherited isou technique that uses shock waves?

More rarely, it can also mean crying or continuously flowing tears. A hint towards the horrible legacy they've got as a clan, perhaps.

Sazanami Kyora (漣 京羅) - Bizarre name.

京 (kyo) directly means capital city and is often used as shorthand for Kyoto city itself (京都). 羅 (ra) is for lightweight fabrics like silk or gauze... a surface reading is kinda weird. His name is "silk capital", huh...

In a name, 京 (kyo) can confer both grandeur and power. 羅 (ra) can confer the idea of a protective net, or a link of unity and strength. So in my mind, Kyora is meant to be the powerful, uniting force that protects. Protects what? Certainly not his kids! GOTTEM

Sazanami Soya (漣 宗也) - Soya is a special guy for many reasons... 宗 (usually read as mune) is associated with respect for family, ancestry, and following the teachings of a founder (in a religious sense). The so reading is actually pretty rare and means "origin" or "virtuous ancestor". In general it conveys a sense of the child being expected to honor the family's ancestors, legacy, and perhaps being the start of something new and special. Good good this is fine.

也 is pretty interesting too. It's archaic, for one. Thus making it a strange choice for a modern name. The most common readings of 也 (nari and ya) mean "to be" in the sense that something is certain to happen/occur, but there's also a less common one used here (ya) that is questioning- like "will it be?" or "is it"? And when it's included in a name, 也 (ya) often takes on a meaning like "also". In an abstract sense, ya here implies excitement for the baby being born, so at least he's got that going for him.

So IMO the most direct meaning of 宗也 (soya) is "another origin" in reference to his "love" being what helps Hakuri overcome Soya himself and start down his new path, with strong implications that he was expected to honor his family's tradition... but maybe wouldn't be able to. Cool stuff! And really depressing in the context that he was chosen to be the next head of the family! Did his parents not have high hopes for him for some reason? Imagine naming your kid "baby we're excited to have that will respectfully carry on our family legacy" while also throwing it in doubt by deliberately using an archaic kanji lol. Soya never had a chance.

Is that why he treated Hakuri the way he did once his little bro failed to manifest the talent he was assumed to have...?

Sazanami Hakuri (漣 伯理) Our favorite former boyfailure sure has an interesting name...

伯 (haku) means someone with a position of high authority like "chief", "earl", or "count". In a name, it conveys a sense of respect and admiration being due as the highest ranked person in the family. What audacity lmao. I think it's interesting that the middle child was given this name since haku also implies being obligated respect and admiration as the eldest brother/role model of the family. Should his and Soya's names have been swapped?

理 (ri) means reason/logic... and less often, justice or truth. It's interesting that this character was used instead of the more common 裡 (ri) that usually composes the full name (伯裡). This character is for something in the rear or the middle, inside or within- implying they're protected or sheltered. Name implications of 裡 carry connotations of inner strength, security, and comfort; a sense of belonging and connection. ...Things our Hakuri notably lacks. He was never meant to be a strong leader secure in his relationships and protected from harm, I guess. So let's look at why 理 might have been chosen instead.

There are many possible implications when 理 used in a name, but most of them imply that the child will be guided or helped along in a positive way. Whether by order and structure, logic and wisdom, deep empathy... any or all of them. So his name is something like "logical/natural chief" with the implication that something will guide his path through life. Fortunately for him and us, it happens to be empathy (RIP Ice Lady). Not escaping the swapped names theories though since Soya was supposed to be the logical, calculating oldest brother chosen to lead the clan. Hmm.

With all that context, this panel just makes me so... something:

Is there more to unpack with the Sazanamis after all? Is leadership a meritocracy or something? Because normally you'd expect the oldest son to have the duty passed on to him. Yet I'm not confident that Soya was always the first choice now.

But yeah, with a name like that, no wonder we see him being called special by Kyora at such a young age- Hakuri had a lot placed on his shoulders at birth. It makes me curious as to why he was apparently seen as a better prospect than Soya, but we'll probably never get the details.

Sazanami Tenri (漣 天理) - Another guy with a unisex name that leans feminine lol. Even more parallels to Chihiro!

A lot of fellow anime and manga fans will probably be familiar with 天 (ten)- meaning heaven, sky, sometimes God. No surprises there. 理 (ri) - the same one used in Hakuri's name- once again means reason/logic, and less often, justice or truth. In names, 天 (ten) also adds a sense of natural talent or gifts the child is born with (and we do see Tenri becoming the youngest member of the Tou ever, so he certainly was born with something special like his father claimed).

理 (ri) implications hurt my heart. He was also named with great expectations placed on him, but at least it's a relatively common name unlike his older brothers'.

I think a common, straightforward interpretation is usually best so "heaven's natural law" is the meaning I'd ascribe. But I do like the optional interpretation of "heaven's judgement" being there to echo Mr. Inazuma's "lightning of judgement" that Chihiro delivered on his behalf. Just a fun little thing for me to gnaw on. The additional naming implications make me think he was supposed to be guided by his natural talents to a bright future, but... well...

I kind of want a side story or episode zero about Kyora, Mrs. Sazanami, Tenri, Hakuri, and Soya before Hakuri was ostracized now. Why were they named like this?! Hakuri and Soya in particular have me going insane over implications for their relationship and why Soya might have been so cruel to him...

Anyway, thanks as always for letting me rant in your ambivalent ears, kind internet void. I'll be able to ride out the last hour or so of waiting for spoilers in peace thanks to you.

[austinramsaygames]

Put an opera in your campaign!

Put an opera in your TTRPG and make a reason why the player characters MUST attend. There are many reasons to do this!

It's fancy so the PCs have to come up with formal wear that their characters would bring to the opera (this is one reason it should be an opera). Let them wear whatever weird shit they want so long as their character LEGITIMATELY believes the outfit is appropriate. Let them get Met Gala with it. Other guests may stare and make snide remarks, but the staff should only offer token resistance if the outfit interferes with the performance or audience, or is dangerous to the people around them.

It forces the PCs into a social situation they may not have the mechanical skills for. Fish out of water stories are lots of fun, especially during the intermission when they have a chance to mingle with the NPCs. Make part of their task at the opera to get to know the wealthy folks in the audience, either generally or specific ones. Even better if they have to get *something* from them (political support, a specific item, information, etc). If things seem to be stalling, here are two tricks to help keep things flowing: a) have someone powerful pointedly insult the most hot headed PC in a very upper class manner. Comments about their outfit and upbringing are classics. This heats things back up as the hot head tries to get violent while the other PCs try to keep the peace, and can lead to a duel the next morning when the dilettante turns out to be a renowned duelist. b) once things have completely stalled or if you need to cut things short (in or out of character), have the intermission end and the audience called back into the auditorium. This can be used as a cliffhanger for whatever was about to happen!

The opera house can be a very interesting location! There's the lobby, auditorium, and possibly concessions, but if the PCs start going where they shouldn't, there's a lot of behind (and under) the scenes spaces for them to explore. Do they go to the changing room and harass (or even replace!) the actors? Maybe they go to the props department and replace a stage knife with a real one! There could be a weirdo living in the basement who is obsessed with the lead actress and plans to kidnap (or rescue?) her. There are all kinds of interesting spaces for plots to happen!

The opera itself is an opportunity to tell the players about the past, present, or even future! What is the plot of the opera? This is key information! The opera will be telling a story that is important to the majority of the audience. It could be about the past of the nation (mythical or historical). Maybe it's about events the PCs witnessed themselves but told from a different point of view than theirs and this might be unflattering towards them or those they care about. You can even foreshadow future plot points by having the play be a fiction that thematically or narratively parallels later parts (or even the next) of the story arc. If there's a great evil that's going to return, you can combine the past AND the future by describing the terrors of the "defeated" evil, then later show those signs happening as hints that the evil returns!

There are some great examples of how an opera (or play if you must) can be inserted into a story to great effect. The Ember Island Players episode of Avatar: The Last Airbender recaps the entire show from the perspective of the antagonist Fire Nation.

Final Fantasy 6 has a famous opera scene where one of the heroes has to replace an actress who has been threatened with being kidnapped by the mysterious man whose help they need! The hero must then remember her lines while the rest of the party protects the show from getting derailed by monsters.

These are just a few ways that you can use an opera in your TTRPG campaign and I highly recommend giving it a whirl!

[inbabylontheywept]

Burning Bridges

“I am Kalrose, commander of the Second Armada of the Akaviri. We are on our way to a peacekeeping operation in the Pegasus cluster. Humanity is not our enemy, but it will be if you continue to detain us in your piss puddle agrarian star system. Step away from the FTL launcher and no one will die. Remain in front and we will plow through your craft. Either way you will not stop us.”

The human freighter acting as a makeshift gate in front of the launcher did not move. If anything, it centered itself more, in order to better face the Akaviri flagship head on.

Then it broadcasted back.

“Your ‘peacekeeping mission’ in the Pegasus cluster is a genocide. We will not stand back and let you commit this atrocity. We may not have the men or the ships to destroy your fleet, but we don’t need to destroy your fleet in order to keep you from reaching the battlefield. Our piss puddle’s name is ‘Zion.’ In time, you will call it ‘Home.’”

Kalrose barely had time to ponder the nature of that threat when the launcher fired up. The EM readings on his ship went mad, and in that brief fraction of a second, he realized he’d miscalculated. Gravely.

He didn’t know how many thousands of safety protocols had been bypassed, but the amount of power flowing to the gravitational core in the center of the launcher was easily nine times larger than the maximum rating. A micro singularity formed within the space lens, and cladding ripped itself off the hull before spiraling at near light speeds around the artificial black hole.

Kalrose had always imagined such a catastrophe as something like a fireball, reds and oranges, lots of shrapnel and clanging. Upon seeing it in person, he realized how foolish that was.

Red glows were for pokers left in hot coals. This was, for one brief moment, a star fueled on steel. It was never going to be orange.

It could only be white.

The accretion disk condensed further, the energy of the reactions happening near it somehow fueling the gravitational anomaly at the center. His comm system moved into a death scream as the material’s blackbody radiation moved past the x-ray spectrum, pure friction converting the material to energy more efficiently than even a fusion reactor could manage. The heat generated finally caused a full structural collapse, the spine of the station melting enough to wrap the whole barrel of the launcher around the spiraling singularity, twirling it in loops like thread around a spool. The reaction was accelerating now, even without electricity being able to fuel the gravitational collapse, the radiation pressure alone managing to hold the system in a highly fragile state of tensegrity. He recognized the feedback loop that was happening, radiation fueling gravity, gravity fueling radiation, on and on until-

There was no air for noise in space, but he could almost imagine the roar that the expanding cloud of ionized metal should have made as it blew past. There it was. The end of the loop. It had run out of matter to feed on, so without a balance to the compressive force it expanded outwards.

He was fortunate that the explosion was violent enough to atomize the particles. Even a fragment the size of a grain of sand would’ve been enough to take down his flagship. As a lone ion, it could be deflected by the same magnetic field that kept the crew safe during FTL jumps.

He stared numbly at the monitor.

One third of the Akaviri fleet, stranded in a farming system. Not even a shot fired.

He realized that the comm system’s scream had been replaced with the quiet pulse of an incoming broadcast. He accepted it without question, too lost to even be angry.

“Take your time recovering your senses. When you’re ready, just send us a message back. We’re going to need every hand we can on the harvest. There’s no one out there we can reach for help after this. It’s just...Us.”

[yanderes-galore]

Transformers animated starscream with promt 14 and 55

Sure! I struggled with the plot a bit so I asked for help :) This is what I got as a result! You're an Autobot that Starscream is obsessed with and he just so happens to find you dying.

Based off TFA but the plot is not TFA specific.

Yandere! TFA! Starscream Prompts 14 + 55

"It's too dangerous in the world. You need me, you should know that!"

"Now there's always a part of me with you...."

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Violence, Manipulation, Cybertronian/Cybertronian, Angst Ig, Energon transfusions, Delusional Starscream, Forced relationship, Coercion.

It's easy to get someone to listen to you when you put them in a position they're forced to. It doesn't matter the side when you're on the brink of life and death. All that matters is survival.

Starscream is an opportunist.

When an opportunity presents itself that will benefit him in the end, he takes it. When he saw you, the Autobot that's been plaguing his mind, dying in front of him due to a battle with Megatron...

Well he just had to step in, right?

In this situation you had no choice but to take his help. You can't refuse him and you Autobots only ever wish to help anyways, right? So please, let him help you as it's the "Autobot" thing to do.

Starscream and you are enemies, it's clear to anyone by the insignias on your body. You hate him, yet Starscream has always had an interesting relationship towards you. He used to hate you until the thought of you infected his processor like a virus.

Now all he ever wants is you. You're an Autobot yet he holds a fondness towards you that he just can't shake. Somehow you've made him soft. He found such feelings pathetic.

Despite him trying to ignore his feelings towards his enemy... he couldn't help but jump at the opportunity to nurse you back to health.

Perhaps part of him hoped you'd be indebted to him. Although, maybe it was something darker due to what he was doing. What better way to make an Autobot indebted to a Decepticon than giving them what they need in the moment?

In your case... you need Energon.

Starscream just so happens to have some to spare.

He couldn't believe himself when he hooked up the line between you and him. A transfusion... not only are you his enemy but he isn't even a medic. Despite this he makes an effort to save your spark.

Maybe you don't have to be his enemy after this? You may not have a choice but to respect him once you realized he saved you. He could've left you to die.

Deep down he knows he probably couldn't live with himself afterwards.

Part of him felt giddy when he managed to make a decent flow of Energon between you. This was his own little experiment. Plus... it gave him pride to know that his Energon would be flowing within you.

His essence would be the thing that powers you from now on.

In a way, he's claimed you as his...

You can never get rid of his mark unless you bleed yourself out! You'll always have the blood of a Decepticon!

You'll always have the blood of Starscream now, a constant reminder of the fact he came in and saved you after Megatron made an effort to kill you.

His red optics stare at your shaking body. He scans you over and notices your blue optics open to look at him. The look on your face is priceless when you see what he's doing.

"Now there's always a part of me with you...." Starscream taunts, a cocky grin on his face as he sees you struggle to sit up.

"Starscream...!?"

"I bet the shame burns..." Starscream continues, looking back towards the on-going transfusion. "To get help from your enemy? Don't you feel... shameful? Maybe even a little thankful? You're lucky I decided to help...."

"W-Why would you even bother?" You croak out weakly. Starscream gives you a look like he's unsure of how to answer before venting in frustration.

"I have my own reasons! You should be grateful! You could've went offline without my help~!"

"I don't need your help...."

"Oh, please!" Starscream scoffs. "Look how well you did without my help? You nearly died and no one came to help you except me, did they!?"

Starscream leans closer, red optics boring into your own.

"It's too dangerous in the world. You need me, you should know that!" Starscream teases in somewhat of a mocking tone. "Think about it, we could work together! We both hate Megatron. We both need to help each other out. Why bother fighting the Con who saved your life?"

"I'd rather die than work with a treacherous Con such as you!"

"Harsh words to use when I'm the one who saved your spark!" Starscream pouts, trailing a claw carefully along the transfusion device. "It's not like you'll have much of a choice after this. You'll always have part of me inside you."

For a moment it looks like he enjoyed saying that.

"You'll never be able to get rid of me, so why don't you give into it? I saved you... you owe me."

"I don't owe a Decepticon scrap!"

"You say that like you're not drinking up my Energon." Starscream grins, grabbing at the tube with a claw. "But if you really don't need me as you say, you won't mind this!"

With a sharp tug Starscream yanks the tube free. Pain overtakes you and you double over. You have enough Energon to live yet everything is woozy. Starscream watches you struggle on the ground to get to your feet before cackling.

"See!? See!? Give up your pride, Autobot. Accept the fact a Decepticon had to help you. Don't you know I'm only trying to CARE for you?"

"You care for no one-"

"Oh... that's not true! I care for you! Why else would I help you?"

Starscream's voice is in more of a taunt than genuine care. It's like he's mocking you and what you stand for. That's expected of him.

"Well, go on then! Walk it off if you don't need me!"

You try to stand but clank helplessly on the ground. This only makes Starscream laugh more before he picks you up. You're quickly forced to lean against him with shame in your eyes.

"Face it... you'll need me in a world such as this. You're all alone... vulnerable to everything." Starscream urges, walking with you pitifully trying to stay up against him.

"I saved you... now you have to do what I say. You owe me and I'm ordering you to stay by me as an ally... I want you to be all mine." Starscream orders lowly, observing the fear in your eyes. His smile is wicked when he sees you so frightened.

"You should know I don't help others for free, my dearest Autobot...."

[valorantium]

Gilded Ring

…There’s a woman, sitting at a table in your headspace.

She wasn’t there before. She wears a lightless cloak, and five rings around the fingers of her left hand.

In her right hand is an intricate teacup, from which she occasionally sips.

You and the rest of your headmates are dumbfounded, standing around in utter confusion.

She’s nothing like you.

And yet, here she is. Daintily sipping an aromatic tea.

She looks calm, unbothered… and yet the feeling of power she exudes… is nearly suffocating.

Then, she speaks.

“...You must be very confused, I assume.” Her voice is low, almost monotone, yet melodic nonetheless. “Rest assured, I mean you, and your family, no harm.”

Loop is the first to speak up. “Well, that’s reassuring and all, stranger, but… who are you, exactly?”

“I am called Binah. I arrived here by way of the Light, for reasons I am not privy to as of yet. But I have confidence that all shall be revealed to us in due time.”

Mal du Pays, ever the skeptic, hums in irritation, but doesn’t say anything. Null sighs and turns away.

You sigh, nod, and ask a question. “...So, are you going to be fronting at all? Is there anything I should keep in mind for that?”

In response, she shakes her head. “I will be content to remain an observer. Through your eyes I shall see this world of yours, and grant my input when I see fit. But I shall not take your body from you.”

You give a short nod, and open your eye in the real world. Your headspace fades from view.

Two weeks have passed.

Binah, as she is called, remains an observer in your mind. As she promised.

You’re camping out with your family, and watching the sky and the trees.

You spot a bird, resting on a tree. Light feathers, with a dark patch on its belly.

(“Ah, look there… an interesting specimen.”)

(“Hm?”)

(“That bird. It’s… a lovely little bird, wouldn’t you say? The plumage is wonderfully-patterned, even absent of the hues I am familiar with. The way it carries itself… reminds me of something.”)

You look closer at the bird. It gently preens itself, without so much as a peep. The plumage on its belly shifts a bit… no, that can’t be right. Just your eyes playing tricks.

It looks up, puffs its chest out, and flutters away.

(“...It IS a nice bird, Stardust~”)

You can’t argue with that.

(“I fail to see the point in this…”) Mal pipes up, quietly.

(“Shouldn’t we be looking out for the others?”) Null responds, pragmatic as always.

(“We needn’t exert ourselves too much. It’s a wonderful evening, after all. A perfect time to relax.”)

You can’t help but silently agree with Binah. You feel your eyelid growing heavy.

You drift to sleep.

Everything’s gone wrong.

EVERYTHING HAS GONE WRONG.

A massive Sadness came out of nowhere while you and your family were traveling through a forest.

It swiftly took down Odile before she even had the chance to Craft.

Mirabelle fell next, hurled against a tree, now unconscious.

Bonnie’s hiding somewhere, thank the stars.

Isabeau is gritting his teeth in pain, having taken a wicked blow from a stinger dripping venom.

You can barely stand. Null fronted for a moment, but it somehow suppressed your Time Craft.

Ramos held out longer than expected, but was exhausted and slammed by a tree that the monster tore from the ground.

You can’t move. You can barely force your body to act. The toxin paralyzes your muscles, clouds your mind, you can’t breathe, you CAN’T- YOU HAVE TO- YOU CAN’T GO BACK-

(“...I do apologize for what must happen now. It appears… that you are struggling to hold your own. Surviving as long as you did against this thing was admirable, though.”)

(“...wh-what…?”)

(“Rest, Siffrin. I shall take the lead, just this once.”)

You can’t think straight. You- YOU

You

sink.

…

…

You are Binah, now.

You have taken control of the body you reside in. It takes a moment to acclimate, but you manage quickly.

You glance at your left hand. There are your rings, one on each finger.

The power of your Singularities flows through your veins, purges the beast’s toxins, and patches your wounds.

Time to have a little fun.

You grin, as you rise to your feet. Stretching your arms, you can’t help but chuckle.

The beast turns its attention to you. The small bird from before perches on a nearby branch and watches. Of course he does. He knows you, after all.

Never mind that. With a roar, the monster’s many claws dig into the ground. It bounds toward you, bellowing with hatred.

You raise an arm, and…

Pillar

Snap. A column of pure force, gilded and runed, collides head-on with the charging Sadness, throwing it backwards and blasting a chunk out of its shoulder. Do not let it breathe. You flick your fingers towards it.

Fairy

Shimmering into existence, the Fairy leaps forth. The monster howls in pain, slashed from every angle, every movement compounding its agony. In anguish, it snaps a tree off its trunk and hurls it towards you.

Lock

It stops in place, the Lock’s image gleaming over it. With a wave of your hand, another Pillar, and more Fairy. The trunk is snapped in half, and the monster’s wounded arm is severed.

It screams. Good. It feels pain. That makes this more interesting.

Its tail thrusts towards you, stinger poised to deliver a lethal injection.

Chain

Not a chance. It’s held in place, by gilded chains on every limb. You step forward, chuckling.

“I wonder… what is it that brought you into existence?” You ask, not expecting an answer. “Acting solely on instinct, it seems… and yet… you seem compelled to cause as much pain as physically possible.”

You lean forward, close to its face. “I wonder… who, then, might your master be? Who could have created such a vile beast as you?”

It roars out, snapping the chain on its remaining arm and swinging towards you.

“...I suppose I shall never know.” The attack is easily deflected by use of Wave. Now, the finale. It’s a tad disheartening, to end your display here… but you cannot complain. It had been far too long since you’d ever tasted this thrill.

One.

A wave of energy emanates from your raised hand. The trees waver, the grass flutters.

TWO.

Another wave, stronger. The beast is forced to its knees, body breaking underneath the weight of this gravity.

And…

Shockwave

…Your blinding head hurts…

You remember… camping with your family, and… and then… Right, that Sadness! It came out of nowhere and wiped the floor with all of you! But… then, you heard… Binah. She said something weird, and then… you felt as if you were…

…Sinking.

Sinking, in an endless ocean of thoughts, prayers, and emotions.

(“Ah, you’re awake.”)

?!

(“I do apologize for my intercession in that conflict. But it is clear that you could not handle the threat on your own, though you did fight admirably.”)

Wait… she fronted…? Then, where-

(“Look around you, little star. You shall find the remains of your foe quite… scattered.”)

…That… explains it.

(“The rest of your companions, within and without, should be awake and healed soon. I saw to that. As for you, however… I saw fit to grant you a gift.”)

A… gift?

(“It is but a fraction of my power, one which I am rather fond of. A sort of… ‘skeleton key’, in a way. Though it can open more than just locks. I do hope it serves you well, little star.”)

She vanishes from your thoughts before you can ask any questions.

You feel a slight weight on your left hand…

A tarnished ring. When did…?

[Got MEMORY OF AN ARBITER.]

(Always equipped. Grants access to Degraded Fairy.)

…You don’t notice it, but as you leave later in the day, a small bird follows you out of the dark forest.

The Small Bird’s beak whispered, without cessation…

[daphnefisherofficial]

bugna: TAKIPSILIM | destiny's twilight

CHAPTER TWO

Pairing: MCU Moon Knight System (Marc/Jake/Steven) x Avatar Fem!Reader

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CHAPTER TWO - DREAMS OF FATE, FAREWELL AND NEW BEGINNINGS.

The past two months had been a relentless parade of dreams for Marc Spector, dreams that twisted through the labyrinth of his fractured soul. His thoughts have long been adrift in the sea of uncertainty that had become his life. Nightmares have always haunted him for most of his life, but it recently came to a point where they had intensified to an unsettling degree. Night after night, his subconscious mind became a battleground for the ever-present specter of his past.

The latest of his living nightmares have been his own death at the merciless hands of Arthur Harrow. He should have been used to the sound of a gunshot by now, but apparently it didn’t prepare him enough for when he was at the receiving end. His fractured soul had been unceremoniously cast into the Duat, the realm of judgment for the ancient Egyptian afterlife. He and his alter, Steven Grant, have stood before Taweret’s watchful eye as she weighed their hearts in the scales on their journey to the Field of Reeds.

Steven made a comment back then of how it should have been Anubis, Marc thought. 

To balance their scales and hopefully come back to life, Marc was forced to confront the darkest corners of his past: Randall’s death that spiraled Wendy Spector’s slow descent to madness. The abuse he had suffered during his childhood at the hands of his mother continued to haunt him - the once happy memories of him and his family shattered by his mother’s twisted way of expressing her ‘love’.

But amid the shadows of torment, there was a glimmer of salvation. Steven Grant has finally understood the need for his creation at the dark corners of Marc Spector’s accursed room, having realized that it was Marc’s way of coping with all the combined strong emotions that a small, innocent child wouldn’t have been able to go through. Steven was Marc’s secret joy - the living embodiment of what his younger brother, Randall Spector, could have been had life been kinder.

Through all of their shared history of pain and survival, Marc Spector’s bond with Steven Grant had deepened. They were no longer just two sides of the same coin - they were brothers transcending the boundaries of blood and forever bound in ways that defied explanation. Their connection was no longer a mere confluence of minds; it was a fusion of souls, two halves of a fractured whole. They had weathered death together and returned, their fates irrevocably intertwined.

After rising from the dead and helping to stop Arthur Harrow and Ammit from wreaking havoc in this world, Khonshu fulfilled his end of the bargain to release both him and Steven Grant from their servitude as his avatar - his Moon Knight.

To Marc’s displeasure, however, the nightmares never stopped. Among the myriad dreams that plagued him day after day, one stood out above all others— a dream that seemed more like a forgotten, distant memory.

In this dream, he watched as Steven Grant raised his arms to the heavens. The sky itself yielded to his will, shifting and swirling as if bowing to a higher power. Marc could feel his own life force ebbing away, his connection to Khonshu, the ancient Egyptian god who had granted him his powers, dissipating like grains of sand in a desert storm. Yet, even as he felt himself slipping away, he also felt a divine presence, a heavenly female voice that reached out to him from the depths of his foggy memories.

“It cannot end like this. I will not let you die - any of you” 

Marc then felt soft lips descending upon his, a passionate kiss that carried the divine breath of life as it flowed into his lungs. The kisses he shared with Layla couldn’t even begin to compare with the mysterious woman of his dreams. It rendered him breathless as a warm, euphoric sensation seemingly boiled his blood with pure longing for someone he never even recalled meeting. 

"Arise, Moon Knight. With the power of the moon, I grant you half of my life."

Marc’s eyes fluttered open, abruptly ending his dream as he bolted upright in his bed. His whole body was drenched in cold sweat, his eyes darted wildly around the dimly lit room as he felt his own heart pounding strongly in his chest. He then reached for the bedside lamp and switched it on, allowing a soft, warm light to fill the dimly lit hotel room where he’s currently staying. 

That dream again? Steven asked in Marc’s head, his reflection on the nearby mirror wearing an inquisitive, sleep-deprived look.

“The very same”, Marc shook his head, finding himself chuckling in disbelief. Every night that ended with that shared kiss under the moonlight left him with more questions than answers. 

Why did these dreams haunt him? What do they actually mean? And who even was the enigmatic woman appearing in his dreams for the umpteenth time in a row now?

Marc glanced at the nightstand clock, reading 5:58 AM of today’s time. He could no longer sleep after the unsettling dream he had, so he decided to get ready for the day ahead. He busied himself with the mundane tasks -  taking a long, hot shower, the steam and warmth helping to clear his mind, at least momentarily, of the enigmatic dreams that had plagued him. Brushing his teeth before the bathroom mirror, his eyes narrowed at his own reflection as he caught a glimpse of a crescent moon tattoo inked into his jugular notch. How did I even get this tattoo? Marc questioned in his mind, prompting Steven's reflection to shake his head, having no recollection whatsoever of the tattoo's mysterious origin.

I honestly don't know, mate. Steven sighed. It might be from Khonshu - may be the residue of his magic when he freed us. Marc accepted Steven's theory for the meantime, effectively taking his mind of his own endless questions as he finally dressed in a crisp, charcoal-gray suit, trying to appear composed and confident for what was sure to be an emotionally charged day.

The Motorola flip phone on his bedside table pinged, prompting Marc to open and check his latest message. Layla’s text greeted his eyes, abruptly reminding him of today’s agenda in the first place.

See you in the courtroom today. I’m on my way.

Marc sighed, lamenting how it had all come to this. Their divorce had been a mutual decision, born out of a recognition that their romantic love had faded, wilted by the melancholy of distance and the weight of their shared history. They both have decided to part ways on amicable terms, to seek their own paths and find happiness on their own terms. He would be lying if he said the whole ordeal wasn't painful for him, but he recognizes the necessity to conclude a chapter between him and Layla that had already run its course. 

Two hours later, Marc Spector finally entered the premises of Chicago Family Court. While waiting patiently in the hallway outside his assigned courtroom, he couldn't help but revisit the dreams that had plagued him. He fiddled with his tie, a nervous tic that betrayed his inner turmoil. He wondered if these dreams and nightmares he’s having were mere manifestations of his trauma—the trauma of dying and coming back to life, of shedding the mantle of Moon Knight, the vigilante avatar of Khonshu.

Steven's voice whispered in his mind, a soothing presence amidst the chaos of his thoughts.

Don’t overthink it too much, buddy. Steven suggested, reassuring him that perhaps they were just processing their past in their own unique way.

Marc nodded inwardly, grateful for the reassurance. They were no longer avatars, no longer bound to the whims of Khonshu. They were free, and yet, the mysteries of their shared dreams remained. It left a lingering unease in his soul as he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to them than met the eye.

A yawn escaped him, a reminder of his sleepless night. He took a seat on one of the benches, suddenly overcome with exhaustion. He leaned against the cold courtroom wall and slowly closed his eyes against his better judgment, hoping to find some respite from the weight of his thoughts. Exhaustion washed over him like a tidal wave, and he drifted into an uneasy nap. 

"Morning, Marc" 

His name was called, gently waking him from his restless slumber. He blinked and sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Layla El-Faouly stood before him dressed in a white blouse, black pencil skirt and gray flats, her dark eyes weary but kind. In her hands, she held two cups of coffee, the aroma of freshly brewed beans wafting through the air.

"Layla," Marc greeted, his voice raspy from sleep.

“How are you holding up?" she asked softly, her tone tinged with a mix of concern and empathy as she handed him a cup of steaming coffee. 

"As well as can be expected, I suppose”, Marc managed a weary smile. "Thanks for the coffee."

She offered him a small smile, a hint of sadness in her toffee-brown eyes. "You looked like you could use it," she said. "Are you ready for this?"

Marc nodded, his gaze fixed on the steaming cup in his hands. "As ready as I'll ever be."

“We both know it’s for the best”, Layla spoke in a serious tone. “With everything that has happened, this will put everything behind us”

He nodded slowly as he let her last words fly by. They exchanged small talk, avoiding the weightier topics for the moment. Soon after, they both heard their names called by the court clerk.

“Mr and Mrs Spector, please come to the front”

As they entered the courtroom, Marc couldn't help but steal a final glance at Layla. Her beauty had always captivated him—the way her raven-black hair cascaded down her shoulders, the warmth of her eyes, and the grace with which she carried herself. She was a striking reminder of what had drawn them together in the first place.

Finally, their case was called. Marc and Layla sat side by side, their hands barely touching as they listened to the legal formalities. It was a somber affair, with a judge presiding over the dissolution of their marriage. Both of them answered the necessary questions with a solemnity that matched the occasion. They signed the paperwork, their signatures sealing the end of their shared lives and setting one another free.

The judge’s words as he delivered the final ruling in their divorce case brought a semblance of peace in both Marc and Layla’s hearts. There was no sadness, anger or regret of any sort - only happiness in its melancholic yet empathetic form. It was the end of an era, the closing of a chapter in their lives.

With the court proceedings behind them, the two walked out of the courtroom and into the corridor, their steps slightly heavy with a sense of finality. Of all the divorced couples in the family court, only Marc and Layla hold hands with a rueful smile on their faces. Outside the courthouse, the two hailed a taxi to take them both to the airport, albeit in separate flights. The taxi ride was a quiet one, the city passing by in a blur of buildings and people.

They may not have worked out as lovers, but they can surely live with being each other's best friends.

"It's time," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly as the closing distance of the airport loomed before them. Marc nodded, his throat tight with unspoken emotions. 

"Yeah," he replied in a hushed tone. "It's time."

A few hours later, the newly divorced couple finally found themselves at the boarding gates. Going their separate ways have never felt so bittersweet.

“Take care of yourself, Layla”, Marc said as he pulled his now ex-wife in for one last hug.

“I was supposed to say that”, Layla chuckled, returning the embrace as her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Don’t be a stranger - you and Steven”

Tell her to not skip any meals, Steven piped inside his head sadly. His British alter’s brief infatuation with Layla didn’t really help to dampen his already melancholic mood.

“Steven said you shouldn’t skip your meals”

“Tell him I appreciate the thought”, Layla nodded, smiling serenely as if looking directly at Steven himself. “Goodbye, you two. See you around”

With a final, lingering look, Layla turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd of other airport travelers. Marc watched her go, feeling a mixture of sadness and relief. The weight of their marriage had lifted, but it left behind a profound sense of loss and emptiness that he wasn't yet sure how to fill.

Marc still has a few hours left before his own flight, so he decided to pass the time at the nearby airport bar. The departure board above displayed rows of cities, each with its own departure time, a digital countdown matching the frenetic rhythm of the bustling terminal around him.

Nursing a lukewarm coffee and absentmindedly flipping through his passport, he suddenly heard the announcement over the intercom, crackling and distorted but crystal clear in its message.

"Ladies and gentlemen, calling all passengers for flight BA294 to London Heathrow. The boarding gates are now open"

The overhead announcements ceased, and the travelers, like Marc, turned their attention to the departure board. In bold, digital letters, the gate number for his flight to London illuminated.

"Flight 294 to London Heathrow: Gate B13."

See you around, Layla’s voice echoed in Marc’s head once more, prompting him to mildly chuckle to himself as he stood up and went on his way to the boarding gates. He knew it would take a long while for them to meet again. Layla has new responsibilities as Taweret’s new avatar - the Scarlet Scarab as dubbed by the people of Egypt. He, on the other hand, will have to pick up the pieces of anything he recalls as a semblance of his old life. 

London was their home now, and Marc and Steven were eager to return to the familiarity of its streets. This time around, it’s up to them to figure out how the next chapter of their new lives will begin. But one thing is for sure - finding out the true meaning of their collective dreams would be the first step.

END OF CHAPTER TWO.

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[berryhobii]

Hi there! First of all, I wanted to say how much I like your work!! As a black woman myself, its is so nice to see other women creating work that represents us and is so well written!

I saw you are accepting requests, and I wanted to ask if you could write about how the LateForWork!Couple met. Like how everything progressed and they fell in love with each other.

Thank you in advance and keep up with the amazing work beautiful <3

Wow! Thank you so much for your kind words!🤧it makes me feel so good knowing that black women are feeling represented in works of fiction. I’ll continue to do my best to represent every black woman out there.

And thanks for the request! I think the LFW couple would meet kind of through Taehyung/Jimin at a company meal. Jungkook’s more of an introvert here with reader/OC being naturally flirty and knowing exactly what they want.

I really enjoyed writing this and I hope you like it!

~

Jungkook didn’t know how he kept letting Taehyung drag him to these meet ups. He didn’t know any of Taehyung’s coworkers or other friends outside of Jimin so he felt really awkward sitting at this table. He’d much rather be at home right now, maybe live streaming Little Nightmares 2 or cracking open the new Resident Evil game he had just received through pre order.

All Taehyung had to do was bribe him with promises of expensive beef and fancy desserts for him to leave the comfort of his home. Taehyung even managed to force him into a loose button up shirt just as Jungkook was about to throw on his signature hoodie. Goodness, that man was strong when he had a goal. At least Jungkook would get some free food today and maybe a sweet to take home so tonight wouldn’t be a total waste.

His face was practically glued to his phone, focus on clearing all of the jelly on this level of Candy Crush. He was down to 1 move and one more jelly square but there were no moves in that area that could help him! Urgh! And he didn’t want to uselessly use any of his power ups. Should he just lose his streak?

Just as he was about to move the candy, a hand came out of nowhere and did it for him. That move created a power up that triggered itself thus clearing the jelly and causing him to win the level. When the happy music played along with that little girl popping up to tell him he won, he couldn’t fight the smile on his face.

Then he realized that he didn’t make that move. Turning around, he was expecting to see Taehyung or Jimin but his mouth dropped at the sight of the person.

You were……what words could he use?

Beautiful? Gorgeous? Majestic? Attractive? Stunning? All of the above?

Your skin was dewy and effervescent, even the lights that lit up the restaurant paled in comparison to your glistening and dark skin. You looked like earth personified—graceful and cool and he just knew you sparkled when the sun hit you.

Your hair was in a half up half down style, claw clip holding it up, 2 locks of hair framed your face and were curled at the end. Your lashes were long and your full lips were shiny with gloss.

He couldn’t take his eyes off you, it was hard to look away when such a gem was standing before him. Could someone even be that exquisite in real life?

And when you smiled, he swore he heard angels singing in his ears.

“I hate when there’s only one move left yet nothing around it. I just know my FBI agent sees me throw a fit over it every day.”

His brain short circuited for a moment. Were you initiating conversation with him? About a game? Willingly? Oh god, is he getting pranked right now? He thought Ashton Kutcher was dead. Is he?

Stop thinking about possibly dead actors! There’s a pretty girl in front of you!

He cleared his throat. “Yeah. They must be concerned I’m having a mental breakdown because they advertised a therapist to me.” He actually shocked himself a little from how easily those words flowed out. Small talk with a stranger was not a specialty of his.

Your laugh was loud and a little goofy but so endearing, it made him chuckle as well.

“Candy Crush will do that to you. I wouldn’t be surprised if the creators opened a rehab for us.”

“It’ll just be us having group discussions on how bringing hazelnuts to the bottom has been affecting our ability to form positive relationships.”

He couldn’t believe how easy conversation was flowing between you two. For some reason, he didn’t feel pressured or nervous speaking to you. You just seemed so open and kind.

Who were you?

“Jungkook! I see you met one of my coworkers. She’s super hot, isn’t she? I told her to let me make her a model but she insists on staying in PR. Boring.” Jimin appeared out of nowhere like a jump scare, draping an arm over your shoulders. Jungkook’s face faltered a little. Jimin was the biggest flirt known to mankind. He could probably charm the pants off a dead person if he wanted to. If you knew him, and more importantly if you worked with him, you must have been on the opposite side of his flirting. Was it a possibility that you two were closer than coworkers?

But instead, you just rolled your eyes, moving his arm off of you.

“Save that talk for your next spread, Park. Don’t think I’ve forgotten that you still haven’t submitted your portfolio.”

Jimin’s smile never dropped despite your slightly cold attitude. He could tell you were just poking fun at him.

“Anyway, Jungkook, this is y/n. y/n, this is Jungkook.”

“I can introduce myself, thank you.” You said before pulling out the chair next to Jungkook and sitting down. That movement caused your perfume to flutter all around him—it was light but sweet like some kind of dessert.

Once you were settled, you turned your body to Jungkook, propping your elbow on the table to lean your cheek against it.

And the way your hooded eyes stared at him sent a harsh shiver from the top of his head all the way to his toes. He didn’t even notice Jimin’s smirk or how the man tip toed away to gossip to his favorite buddy.

“I’m y/n.”

He opened his mouth but no sound came out. He didn’t know why his throat felt dry all of a sudden.

Oh great, he could chat with you about mobile games and FBI agents but getting his name out was difficult?

Clearing his throat, he forced out his name, voice cracking a little at the end. Embarrassment rushed through his body, heat rising to his ears and he was grateful his hair was long enough to cover them.

You must think he was a dork now.

You giggled, your eyelashes fluttering and making his heart weak.

“Nice to meet you.”

He shyly nodded. “You too.”

“Sorry about Jimin. He’s like that at work too.”

Jungkook pushed his hair back with one hand, not noticing how your eyes followed the motion. “At least you only have to work with him. Imagine knowing him since childhood.”

You pressed your hand against your chest in faux distress. “How awful. I could only imagine the pain you endure daily.”

Wow. You were so easy to talk to. He had completely forgotten about his phone, tucking it into his pocket to finally have a rest.

Eventually, food and drinks began flowing. Taehyung and Jimin joined you two at the table but not even they could pop the bubble that you’ve formed.

Jungkook could barely focus on his food. You had his full attention, holding onto every word and laugh that fell from your lips. He found you to be witty but also humble, not afraid to poke a little fun at Taehyung and Jimin who just laughed right along with you.

You were mesmerizing. He almost hated blinking if it meant your beautiful face left his sight.

And when you would turn your attention back to him, not realizing that you’ve never left his, you’d send him a flirty wink and coy smile that would send his blood pressure through the roof from how his heart would stutter and race. If a doctor was listening with a stethoscope right now, they’d think the organ was giving out on him.

“So how’d you end up here?” You asked after taking a sip of your drink.

He sighed, eyes going over to the other side of the table where Taehyung was showing Jimin something on his phone but the man was so drunk that he was holding it upside down. And Jimin probably didn’t even notice, laughing as if he could understand the upside down photo. “Taehyung dragged me here. Said I need to start getting out more and I can’t waste my youth playing games all day. He keeps pushing me to date but I’m not that interested right now.”

Well, that was before. Now, however, he was starting to change that view.

You hummed, using your chopsticks to eat a piece of meat, chewing carefully and swallowing before speaking again.

“Does it make you happy?”

That was a question he didn’t hear people ask him often. Well, in a genuine way. He’d normally hear it rhetorically. He’s heard it come from his parents more times than he could count, followed by a lecture that he’d drown out.

He blinked a few times. Gaming did make him happy. He appreciated the hard work creators put into each frame, the adrenaline he got from jump scares, and the accomplishment from completing one. “Yeah….it does.”

“Then that’s what matters. Who cares if someone else feels like you’re wasting your life? It’s yours. You can’t be focused too much on what others want for you. You’ll only neglect your own self.”

Wow.

“Then again, we should thank Taehyung from forcing you out tonight.”

He tilted his head. He would absolutely never do that but he was intrigued by your suggestion. “Really? Why?”

You didn’t say anything, just gazed at him with those captivating eyes and he knew exactly what you meant.

Maybe he should thank Taehyung.

As the night came to a close, he helped escort Taehyung to his car. Jimin had left a little earlier with a person you identified as one of the newest members of management. Apparently, they were kind of resistant to Jimin’s flirting at first but had crumbled after about 4 months of Jimin trying and trying. Jungkook recalls Jimin speaking about this person, claiming he was in love with them and would respectfully shoot his shot whenever possible.

That left Jungkook with a drunk Taehyung and you were helping your coworker who lived in the same apartment building as you.

Jungkook didn’t just want to see you walk away. Who knows if he’d ever see you again? And he refused to ask Jimin or Taehyung for your number. The teasing would never end.

“Hey…..wait.” He called out to you after practically dumping Taehyung in the back seat. You had parked right in front of his car and were buckling your roommate’s seatbelt who was slumped over asleep.

You turned to him after closing the passenger door, your eyes locking in with his.

There was that nervousness again but he swallowed it down. He couldn’t chicken out now! Not when you’d been getting along so well this evening.

“Um…..look, if you don’t mind, could I have your number? Maybe we can hang out sometime.”

You eyed him up and down but not in a checking him out kind of way. It was like you were analyzing him, finding every little crack in his personality that you could.

He honestly felt a little vulnerable. Why weren’t you speaking? Hadn’t tonight gone well? Was he just trying his luck and you’re already dating someone? Oh god, were you just being nice and he took it as you flirting with him?! Assumptions really were dangerous.

He was about to apologize and roll under his car to stay there until the end of time before you finally spoke.

“I’m not a maybe type of woman, Jungkook.” You spoke bluntly.

His mouth dropped a little in shock. Not necessarily because of your blunt tone but because you were just his fucking type. You knew what you wanted and that was his cup of tea.

You didn’t wait for him to respond, rounding your car to open the driver’s side. He just watched you with doe eyes and a funny feeling swirling in his tummy.

However, before you got in, you said,

“I don’t wait around.”

And on his drive home with a snoring Taehyung in the back, he thought one thing….

~

When you arrived at work Monday morning, it was to a bunch of people surrounding your desk. That wasn’t really out of the ordinary since people often got their assignments of the day from you.

What was out the ordinary though?

The huge bouquet of flowers that sat just in the middle of your desk, the colors vivid and the arrangement looking larger than your desk.

Your coworkers chatted excitedly about the flowers as you approached but you ignored them. Instead, you reached for the little card on a plastic stand just nestled between the blooms.

You had to bite your lip to fight your smile but you couldn’t fight the feeling that was rising in your chest.

I don’t either.

[moonlightmaeve]

This is one of the first Dracula fanfics I wrote, I put Dracula's words and actions into red to help distinguish them from mine. Let me know your thoughts on how this affects the flow/readability. For a bit of context, this is based on BBCs 2020 Dracula. One of his powers is obtaining memories and information through the taste and smell of blood. That's why he licks for a term he'd forgotten. Please let me know if you enjoy this and if I should post more of my writing!!!

"Drac, do you think I'm a bad person?"

"I think that's a bit too philosophical for a Friday night."

"But you love philosophy."

"I like to study philosophy in the same way that you like to study black holes. You cannot even imagine–"

*looks pensively and moves his tongue around in his mouth before resorting to licking the small wounds on my neck*

"–ah yes spaghettification. I cannot even imagine morality. You don't wish to be crushed by the indescribable force beyond an event horizon and I would hate to believe in good or evil."

"Now THAT'S too philosophical for a Friday night. Just answer my question."

"I'll humour you since I am the closest thing to a god that you will ever know. Everything I know about morality is what the blood tells me. Some people regard themselves as honourable but are quite bitter."

*he moves closer to me, and places his hands authoritatively on my shoulder and looks into my eyes.*

"You often have the soured tinge of guilt, a habit that you must cut back on, for the sake of my enjoyment."

"So my blood tells you I'm guilty? By that account I should be terribly ugly as well."

*getting notably frustrated* "No. Your blood tells me that you are still caught up in the lies humanity likes to tell itself. Concepts of good and evil, beautiful and ugly. They are nearly completely absent from the rest of the universe. They live only in feeble minds that allow them to simmer and grow."

"But when I feel guilt, it becomes real because it is real to me. Isn't that how everything is created?"

"My god, clearly you're not listening to me."

*I grin at the opportunity for a joke to break growing tension* "my... what? I thought that's a name we don't say in this house."

*he flashes a mischievous smirk back at me* "quite right my dear" *moving his hands from my shoulders to my waist to pull me closer to him* "we also don't talk about good and bad" *he kisses my head*

"I'll try to avoid it in the future, maybe we should start a swear jar or something, in case I bring up ethics again."

*looking obviously amused and curious, his voice takes on a decisively playful tone.* "a swear jar??"

"Ya know it's like I have to give you some money every time I swear. Except for instead of saying FUCK, it'll be 'good or evil.'"

"Watch your tongue young lady, or I'll pierce it for you. And yes now that you say that I do recall it, from the 80s. Money is something I have little need for and much of. Now attend my words very carefully darling. Your beloved cat kills baby birds because she was made by nature to do so. I erm ‐harvest‐ blood because I need it to survive. And you, you are often moved by something unseen and powerful that you crave. There is no good or bad in that. Do not bring it up again. Come back with sweet, shame-free blood."

"Drac?"

"Yes?"

"You said 'good or bad' just then, now give me £5"

[theplatypusblue]

Hrmmm thinking about wind in ninjago. And destiny and Morro and Euphrasia and stuff. Sorry if it gets slightly long lol

Umm so like wind is kind of free-flowing and fluid. It’s similar to water in that way, but it’s also different in the sense that you can’t really put wind into, say, a cup or a bucket. You can’t contain it — it’s unrestrained. It just kind of goes and does whatever it wants. You can see this is in both elemental masters of wind shown in the show so far.

It’s fairly obvious with Morro, but also slightly ironic. He tried so so so hard to be the green ninja, even when it was obvious that wasn’t what destiny had in mind. Even after he dies and becomes a ghost he tries to defy his destiny (see all of season 5). I feel like I don’t have to explain this part much, he’s trying to defy destiny, that’s like kind of his whole thing, blah blah blah.

But isn’t that kind of weird? Destiny itself acts like a container, right? It’s a controlling force; it dictates where you’re going to go, what you’re going to do etc etc. It’s like a box. And it’s a little weird cuz like…. for all his shit about defying destiny and all that… Morro very much wants to be placed into a box. He’s definitely not a fan of the box he’s in right now, but rather than trying to meaningfully “free” himself, he spends all of his time trying to climb into someone else’s box — Lloyd’s. It makes his efforts to ~defy destiny~ seem misguided, or at the very least a bit pathetic.

With Euphrasia, it’s a bit less literal. There isn’t like, any specific path of destiny that she’s trying to get out of, per se; it’s more like the expectations of Cloud Kingdom society. The episode she features in mainly focuses on her choosing to be true to herself. Not having to hide her powers or letting others tell her what she should do. She makes it clear that she’s the only person who can decide those kinds of things. In that sense it’s kind of about self-determination or autonomy (kind of the direct opposite idea of “destiny” or “fate,” where a greater force is the thing that defines your life). In that sense, it feels like Euphrasia stays more true to the idea of wind I talked about before: free-flowing and not-giving-a-shit.

Societal expectations and destiny are both things that can control a person, if you allow them to. I like to think that the callbacks and references to destiny in Euphrasia’s episode weren’t just meant to harken back to season 5, but to help show what it means to be a master of wind in the first place.

So anyway yeah wind is all about defying destiny and all stuff 👍 and morro is a bit of a loser 👍 hopefully this was somewhat coherent lol

[thewisaaaaad]

Heeeeeey I got some mooooore (rattles post like a treat box)

Here's the part where things start to get better, and it will only improve from here :)

can't say the same for the lambs mental state though.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The lambs sleeping body was lifted gently from the dust that their body was resting in, floating into the air as they were filled with energy. It felt so different from when the red crown granted them power; it had been hasty, rushed. It certainly didn't help that they had lightning staking their soul into their body.

Even still, this felt like the most gentle and natural flow of energy filling their body, like waking up from a perfect nights sleep, The cream crown manifesting on their head with a comfortable weight- enough to reassure them that it was there, but not so heavy that it pressed against the cracks in their skull.

Speaking of hurting, the pain that they had lived with for all of the life they were forced into seemed to have vanished, as they streached all their limbs, feet not yet touching the ground as they ascended to godhood.

They opened their eyes, gentle peach-colored light poring from both eyes, the light being lost in the dust clouds around them.

With the wave of power faiding, Hypnos was gently lowered to the ground. The lamb went to dust themselves off, only to find that the crown had already done it for them, along with granting them a new fleece that had the colors of a setting sun. Or was it a sunrise? Both made sense, but it would be a nice change from the tattered old cloak that they once wore.

They will miss it though. Maybe they can get narinder-

Oh. Right, saving narinder. The lamb was so lost in the novel concept of not living in pain that they had forgotten the purpose of the healing. Looking around, they found the trail of indents, and realised that the amount of distance that they had tumbled would be cartoonishly amusing, if they didn't have to walk all the way back.

The lamb sighed, and began trudging their way back through the cold desert, baked in the false sunlight.

My lord, you should arm yourself.

Hypnos paused, looking around for something to wield. It felt like their crown was sighing at them, as strange as it sounds.

Little dream, you forget that your crown IS your weapon. call for me, and I shall fill your hand. With me, you are never unarmed.

Lamb, for the second time, had their thoughts come to a screaching halt with what their crown refered to them as, but filed that question away for later.

Lamb held out their hand, and as promised, the crown leapt from their head to their outstretched palm, reshaping itself into a... stick?

It is not a stick, it is a staff. the crown corrected, the eye floating near the tip glaring at the sheep. This weapon will channel your bottomless fervor into reliable strikes, allowing you to overcome any foe.

The... staff, was a straight metal pole made of black iron, with a ear 45 degree bend right at the end to form a handle (presumably for walking). On the mirror side of the bend floated a vertical eye, the symbol of the crown of Sleep and Wake.

"Ok... how do I use it, then? I expect that I'm not meant to just wail on someone with this."

You would be half correct, bearer. The staff is meant to be swung at your enemies, channeling your wrath into potent magics to smite your enemies, but it also will work just fine as a simple bludgeon. the crown answered, with no small amount of patience. they supposed that for a crown to have waited so long for a bearer, they would also have the tolerance to mentor a new wielder who was entirely out of their depth.

I wouldn't put yourself so low, master. the crown sighed into their mind. You wielded curses with skill and grace long before I sat upon your brow; this will be a small feat for one as accomplished as you, god slayer.

"Don't call me that." Hypnos snapped, gripping the staff a little tighter as the eye looked at them apologetically, but remained silent as they continued through the repetitive landscape.

"What does my new domain entail, exactly?" the lamb asked, continuing to follow the trench dug by their flailing body just before while twirling the staff in their hand, getting used to its weight in their hands.

It makes you a master of the realm of dreams, and puts you in control of the rest that others get. You will be able to cure exaustion form you allies, or force it upon your enemies.

The lamb paused their twirling. Hypnos had an idea. a possible solution to the problem of freeing Narinder from the Sin that had wrapped itself around his body.

"Cream, what are the limits on who I can put to sleep?"

The crowns eye crinkled in amusement, and asked: what did thou just refer to me as, little dream?

Hypnos shrugged, returning the crown to their head and lacing their fingers behind it. "well I mean, you call me all sorts of nicknames, so I figured I should come up with one for you in return. I cant just keep calling you 'crown', now can I?"

Wizened laughter echoed in their mind, the crown clearly bemused.

You could, you know. You are the Ruler of Dreams, after all, and I am but your symbol.

Hypnos shrugged again, letting their arms fall to their sides, the fleece once again covering their whole body. "Maybe, but I don't feel like it. Anyway, can we get back on track? With the whole, 'can I put a god to sleep thing?"

Ah, yes. A most important question, and an astute one at that. But I can promise you one better: you can send any creature that has a thought in their head directly into a deep sleep.

Including Crowns.

Including Sin.

This was the answer the sheep had been waiting for. With confidence renewed, they strode forth-

and immediately took shelter behind a pile of skulls upon hearing something in front of them.

Why were there people in the Below?

Hypnos peeked out from behind the pile of bones to peer at the hooded figures, who appeared to be trying to cook some skulls over a fire made from one of the many crosses strewn about the area.

Child. Reach into their mind, seek their purpose.

The lamb hesitated for a moment, unshure about trusting the crown even now, but did as they were bid. Closing their eyes, they focoused on the unaware creatures struggling to get the rotting wood to light, reaching out for their minds-

Hypnosis eyes snapped open when they found nothing but a tight bundle of chants and praise to Pride. They didn't even sense hunger, which just left further questions as to why they were trying to cook bones.

Hmm... that is not something I have ever encountered before. the world truly has changed a lot since the war...

Another question filed away for later, the lamb readied their staff, hoping that wielding it was as intuitive as the crown said it was.

While Cream may not know what these creatures were, Hypnos did. Heretics. Constructs that were built from bones and Fervor, bound in prayer to serve its creator without question. Hecket had trained the lamb against them, so they could experience real combat. They also came in many varied forms, the only simularity was that they all came with glowing red eyes of Fervor that didn't necessarily appear as two round circles. They were meant to be deployed in war against invaders without risking actual followers.

Hypnos realized they were in a war now, and so was probably everyone else in the living world.

When the heretics finally lit their fire and did a little celebratory dance, Hypnos decided that now was the time to strike. The lamb vaulted the skulls and swung the staff at the clueless critters.

A Peach cloud of energy shot out of the end of their weapon, stripping the fervor from the first two heretics immediately, the one on the far side managing to screech "ABOMIN-" before it, too, was reduced to bones by another jet of power from the staff.

"That was... kinda fun." Lamb admitted. They turned the staff over in their hands, having a new admiration for the weapon.

More heretics were guaranteed to lay up ahead, for Narinder had no shortage of bones in his realm, and Hypnos had no doubt that Pride would use them to its advantage. Setting their shoulders, the lamb pushed onward, through the wastes.

They had promises to keep.

[originemesis]

The darkness subsids and what the Harbinger sees next is a scene long since past. Adam would recall this spot very well as he looks up at the skies of Hell. The warm brimstone beneath him made only warmer by flowing yellow ichor that traces down the curved bumps of maskless cheeks. He should remember now the beating he had taken from Lucifer, the relentless pummeling of a being far more powerful than him and the cracking ache of broken pride and... Realization. But of what? Oh, he knows, he knows very well what this whole mission was meant to be...

From above him, the form of the Wrathful One stands over him, Adam finds that he cannot speak or move, forced to listen.

"The poor Gardner, what will they take from you next? They had ripped Eden from you, they had doomed you to a loveless life, stole a rib and just as you thought it was over, they took her from you. Of all the souls that had been recruited, yours is the most... Volatile. You make sure you are the loudest in the room, that all the attention is upon you because you know well the truth. Your purpose in existence had concluded long ago. You had populated the Earth. Congratulations. Your existence is not needed any longer, the mere fact you had made it this far as a notable other is impressive and yet, if credits were to roll, your name would appear in a long list of nameless others. You are no longer someone special and maybe... You knew that."

The scene shifts suddenly, in the first humans arms is his lieutenant. The dagger that had taken her life still driven within her body. She looks up at him with a smile that reads an emotion that he wishes to know and with unsaid words, he would never know.

"Maybe that is why you had given up. Maybe that is why you never pushed yourself. The exterminations were so easy, so one sided. You were invincible, you didn't need discipline, you didn't need to care because everything was already catered to. Just show up, kill, leave, repeat. But now... If you had done more, if you hadn't slacked off and fool yourself into everything being so simple and easy... Maybe she would have survived."

Suddenly Adam found his hand curling around the knife handle that had dug itself into the Angel and time freezes. It is only them, she stares up at him, unfrozen but undying. The man wished for pain, so he has it. Adam is forced to stay in this moment of almost death. Watching the woman's breathing stagger, shudder, and wheeze. He gets to watch the pain in her eyes but the light never leaving. Adam is forced to sit here and live in the moment of losing Lute but never getting the conclusion of her death.

"My judgment has been made, the crime of your sin shall be met with a fitting punishment."

It is clear to Adam the choices he is given. Stay in this moment for eternity or plunge the dagger deeper within his Lieutenant and relieve the both of them of this pain.

The explosion of light at the conclusion of his caterwauling was very nearly what it should have been all along. Not a weapon of mass destruction fashioned out of a soul- but simply a device used to channel and amplify music. Music was every angel's way of expressing emotions too far embedded within one's self to show willingly after all. But with the burst of light came a sudden darkness soon after. One that swallowed the surroundings even as he stood far away from the source that had swallowed the others. There was always a snake in Eden- and it was ever hungry. Even now. Especially now.

This scene doesn't surprise him. He watches it on repeat enough in his shards to not feel the slightest bit jarred once his vision returns to him- ever blurry and with no ability to blink to help clear up what he's witnessing. Though it's not like he wants to. Not that he wants to hear what he's been charged with either, because deep down he already knows. Being a loud, insufferable fuck is just the band-aid he's used this whole time to ignore it, but eventually an ever-bleeding wound saturates through the bandage and begins to stink and fester. And fester it has, but he has no way of covering it up now, forced into a shivering slump over someone he saw too many times on replay, and yet never tired of knowing she was there at some point...existing beyond what his memories could conjure. If anything upset him more than the reruns of her death, it was that he had such a difficult time recalling anything she was beyond that moment. But sometimes when he was still, sequestered off in the blinding, white room of a holding cell that he almost preferred to the social 'pen' that Mic conjured up for the lot of them, he could recall the way her sharp eyes would glint and how she'd tut almost fondly over his insistence in what condiments actually belonged on hotdogs.

He'd protest if he could- tell the big bastard that it was funny he insisted that he was no longer relevant to the plot when it was he that was the most devote of the harbingers when it came to bringing the blown out candle of realization to other cycles that they weren't special no matter how much they fought against the inevitability of dour acceptance. But considering he's here now- 'helping' out a cause he'd sooner scoff about than take seriously if it weren't for the memory of his lieutenant caught in a painful grip that transferred hints of its agony to her, the point is surely past its expiration date. Almost as much as she was despite how fresh she looked cradled in the tremble of his arms. 

Her smile is a knife to the gut, but he can't double over more than he already is- frozen in place, golden eyes glazed over as he considers the context within hers. This is the only time he's thought she's awfully attractive. Awfully fucked up as it is. Almost like he was doomed to never notice until she's moments from being gone forever. The delivered conclusion haunts him as he considers the slope of her expression, lips trembling against the force that keeps him sealed there. Warm salt slides down and passes  the threshold of his lips, but he can't lick it away. It drips on her face face- one drop, and then another. If he had just taken the mission seriously- maybe then she would be the one despairing over his smile. The council wouldn't have made it easier for either of them, but at least they would have weathered that storm together.

Not like this... 

Hand involuntarily curled about an angelic weapon driven in deep, he pauses, feeling the sensation of free choice flooding back into his wrist. He doesn't want it now- craves the casual acceptance of whatever came outside of Eden. A shaky breath in and a few more lost tears break as he squeezes his eyes closed and bares his teeth as if he can forget that face burned into his memory so harshly that it repeats on every reflective piece of him he loses along the journey of staying put together. Everyone must stand alone, after all. He just thought it would be different between the two ribs he was missing- the second cradled in his arms while his talons flexed unhappily on the dagger's edge. 

There's no telling how long he's there- this realm where time passes thousands of years in the blink of an eye in real time. He watches- as he always has, the raw details of her pain that lingers and never fades no mater how many times he's witnessed the conclusion. "...no end, and no beginning-" The man murmurs, voice cracking as he relays quiet bits of the pesky song to her perpetually fading existence. "You're here with me...it's like a-...dream." Squeezing the handle, he traces the blurred edges of her gaze with his until he seals off the view with a harsh shuttering of eyelids as if he could keep that last second of a smile ghosting the edge of her lips and stay within it forever. "...everyone must stand alone." After several lifetimes in one instance and a few seconds in the other, he drives the dagger upwards through the rest of her back and into his chest- pinning them together to bleed out together.

It feels like ... home.

[hompunkulus]

Cyber Magic Theories

Frater U.D. comments that when performing cyber-magical operations there is a reported feeling of coolness or tingling on the top of the head. He also mentions that the mage should have a working understanding of kundalini. That means you need a working understanding of energy modalities to effectively work cyber-magical operations and may just be a refined form of energy or spirit magic. This is not a criticism, but an observation.

It takes computers and wi-fi for information to pass from one data base to another. It is more or less an electrical action, such as psi moving from our spine to our brains effecting change. He admits cyber magic has been around for centuries albeit in different terms. That suggests I can learn this modality with less computer oriented terminology. Austin Osman Spare is a good example of a cybernetic magician as his sorcery took place in the mind with the help of trance through the semiotic web.

What we learn from Spare is the art of simplicity. An artistic rendition of a desire creates a trance effect that can be used for magical purposes. Art is information, trance is a way to integrate that information into the subconscious, sigils are how the subconscious connects that flow of information to create a magical effect. Spare was said to be able to change weather and summon and banish elementals with pen, paper, and vacuity. That is information magic at its finest from a proper cybernetic foundation.

Words and Images, Songs and Effigies

Words and images, songs and fetishes, have been part of the magical world as far back as history and anthropology can trace its roots and becoming. The concept started as a spirit then an energy model, but as our concepts of spirits and ideas of energy evolve so does magic. Sadly, not so much for religion.

An easy way to differentiate the spirit, energy, and information models is through the power of an effigy with sympathetic magic. In the spirit model the effigy is representative of the target and upon burning it the spirits are sent forth to actuate the curse. In the energy model the creation of the effigy creates a sympathetic link to the target and through the burning of it there is a transfer of energy. Those models assume you have blessings from a spirit, or a host of them, or are skilled in the art of sensing, directing, and overall managing, various types of energy. Both models suggest the world is teeming with variety of either concept.

Animism is a belief that the world is animated by spirits existing in every little and large thing, from dirt to mountains. Animism is a dance of spirit and energy because the animist has to understand the gross and subtle elements of their spirit and how it effects their energy and what that energy does to the living world around them. The information model is much simpler, almost childlike. The effigy works because the magician intended it for it to work.

Conclusion

Magic at the level of information is magic in it's simplest form, almost as if a thought itself can be magic. That is true to an extent, but that thought still needs juice behind it. Spare used sigils and the Death Posture, Frater U.D. talks about a working understanding of kundalini, and Anton Channing talks about a magical force called the cybermorphic. Because early chaos magic was inspired by chaos mathematics and theoretical quantum physics it makes sense that an advanced form of magic would now utilize machine theories. There are even magicians tinkering with AI.

In conclusion, 'cyber magic' intrigues me. I am finding ways to understand and utilize this method but away from scientific, mathematical, and robotics jargon. My backround is very down to earth and humble so I approach my magic from that angle. While I believe it is good to learn and adapt, which is why I started to focus on the information model and cyber magic specifically, magic is always more powerful when you follow your intuition and do what works.

Cyber magic is really just a theory on how magic works because you are essentially doing the same things mages have been doing for thousands of years, just using the materials and technologies available at the current zeitgeist. It so happens to be a time of exponential growth rather then one of hunting and gathering.

What I've come to understand about cyber magic is the concept that thought itself can act as a sigil and with enough focus can effect change on a target. It's 'empty hand magic' at its finest.

Frater U.D. mentions that it takes a new pracitioner of cyber magic maybe 2 minutes to cast a spell and a seasoned pracitioner about 30 seconds, or less. If you can really cast a spell in 30 seconds, you can do hundreds of spells a day. To be honest, it seems a little far fetched and over simplistic, but there's no reason not to dive in and try it. The worst thing that happens when we try new things is the same as the best possible outcome - we learn something new.

If information magic is anything, it's applied knowledge to manufacture a magical effect. What will you do with it?

[burnwater13]

Grogu sitting on the Seeing rock on Tython. Image from The Mandalorian, Season 2, Episode 6, The Tragedy. Calendar from DataWorks.

As soon as Grogu sat down on that weird stone thing it felt like he’d been immersed in a warm bath. A feeling of love and belonging flowed all around him and he relaxed, for perhaps the first time since he left the Jedi temple and just existed with the Force. It was so deeply satisfying that he really had no idea what was happening around him.

He heard, felt, sensed a question echo in his mind.

“Need?”

Need? Did he need anything? No. He didn’t need anything. He had a friend. He had his ball. He had snacks in his pocket. He had no needs.

“Want?”

Want. Hmmm. He wanted all sorts of things. More food always. More friends maybe. More coveralls so ‘wash day’ would be less… tricky. More peace. More love. More happiness in the galaxy. More time.

Yes. That was the thing he wanted most. More time to spend with the Mandalorian. More time to learn. More time to fix all the things that needed fixing in the galaxy. 

If he had the time, Grogu knew that he’d be able to safe guard Din Djarin. The Mandalorian got into a lot of trouble and it wasn’t always easy to help the human out of it. 

It wasn’t that Grogu thought he wasn’t up to the task. He knew what Master Yoda said. “Judge me by my size, do you?” The Force didn’t care how big or little you were. It didn’t care if you were young or old. It didn’t care if you were a human or a more interesting species. If you were open to it, well, then the Force made itself available and you had to work out what to do with it. For good or bad.

That was what puzzled him. Right then, he felt so warm and accepted and relaxed that it was hard to remember that good and bad were a thing. That people could get hurt or even die. But then he thought about the Mandalorian and the risks Din Djarin took to navigate a galaxy that really, really didn’t seem to like or appreciate the bounty hunter and the work he did. 

They’d been shot at, lied to, tricked, and attacked by other bounty hunters, ex-Imperials, and even people they thought were their friends. Grogu realized that was happening because the Mandalorian had something the other people wanted and because the Mandalorian wasn’t just going to give it to them. 

Since that was the case Grogu wanted more time with the Mandalorian and… he wanted his best friend to be safe. So as the Force flowed so freely around him he considered what he should do. At first he thought maybe if he found a way to make that pesky beskar armor disappear that no one would know who Din Djarin was. He would become an anonymous member of the galactic population and of no interest to people who weren’t obsessed with the valuable armor and the power and tactical advantage it provided to whoever wore it. 

But Grogu realized that the Mandalorian would rather not live in a galaxy where that happened. The armor was tied to his creed and tied to his sense of self to such a great degree, Grogu wasn’t sure that Din Djarin would know himself if he wasn’t wearing it. 

If he couldn’t do that, what could he do? Why were so many bounty hunters and Imps following them around to so many places? Grogu of course had to admit that was his fault. Not that he had deliberately ticked people off and then hid behind the first human he found and gave them a sad look that would make them feel protective of him. (Yes, he had done that, but not this time.) 

Grogu had some advantages or privileges or conditions, or what ever you wanted to call it that the Force seemed to like him more than almost anyone else. Sure, he knew that the Force was neutral. You brought the good or bad, but it didn’t always show up for other people. They couldn’t always reach it, feel it, understand it, as innately as he could. That allowed him to do and survive to many impossible things that he could understand other people wanting him. Either to do work  on their behalf, like the Nikto gang, or to be used for his component parts, like Moff Gideon. 

Neither of those situations had been ideal and Moff Gideon’s plans were intolerable. 

So there he was. Sitting on rock. Bathed in the Force and thinking about how he could make sure he had all the time he wanted with the Mandalorian. And that voice that asked him those questions told him the answer he didn’t want to hear but needed to hear. 

“Let him go.”

Dank Farrik!

He’d have to let the Mandalorian follow his own path. The bounty hunter would have to work out what he wanted on his own. Grogu couldn’t push him in the direction he wanted without messing with the balance of the Force and that always ended up biting a person in the butt. 

Womp Rats!

“Need Jedi…”

Grogu let his plan, Din Djarin’s plan, the Armorer’s plan be known. He brought it to life within the Force.

“Soon, little one. Very soon.”

The voice of the Force had spoken. Grogu knew what needed to be done. He just hoped that he was brave enough to do it. 

[hermitsmirror]

Spread: The Wound and the World

A spread for surviving with the 5 of PentaCoins

The 5 of Pentacles / Coins / Disks is a challenging card to see in a reading and worse to feel as we’re moving through its energy. But there’s also a lesson in the card and a source of potential strength even for a generally “bad card.”

Pamela Colman Smith’s iconic illustration for the Rider Tarot by Arthur E. Waite shows two injured, sick, and impoverished people trudging through the snow while a faint light glows in the stained-glass of a church beside their path. The message is potent: the world is harsh, and there are plenty of resources, but not everyone has equal access to them.

When I pull this card, I often think of what in the world I’m not seeing. What are the resources that are available to me or that I could request. After all, the 5 of Pentacles leads into the 6 of Pentacles, card of the generous benefactor and supplication or of the vital flow of currency or of interdependence. For some of us, there’s an uneasy relationship to the benefactor of the 6 just as there is to the church in the 5 (and as cards of Taurus season, they’re both tied to that controversial figure of the Hierophant). What will I have to give up to get the help I need? Is the sacrifice worth it? Can I do it on my own?

This is the key question of the Survivor, an archetype that I explored this past week as I created my new Journal of Threads, a core component of my new Patreon designed to help readers incorporate simple mixed-modality practices to strengthen the soul–body connection that is the basis for a good life.

Each month of the journal witnesses the journey of archetypes as they transition from one to the next, week after week. This past week’s archetype of the Survivor was inspired by the 5 of Pentacles since it was the first decan of Taurus, and the 5 of PentaCoins is associated with Taurus I in Golden Dawn astrological tarot correspondences. All archetypes have strengths and challenges or “healthy” and “unhealthy” expressions.

This tarot spread is based on my working through those potential strengths and very real challenges of the 5 of Pentacles / Coins / Disks. It’s a card of financial and physical suffering, disruption in one’s material conditions, and worrying about what one has (Mercury caught up in Taurus), as seen in the Smith-Waite, Marseille, and Thoth traditions. But the 5 of Pentacles is also a card of stubborn independence and resilience in the face of conditions that might force someone else to give up. It’s about encountering the clash between spiritual and material worlds and finding one’s own way forward.

As with my past tarot spreads based on the minor arcana, I’ve created the layout inspired by the imagery of Smith’s illustrations, but it’s also inspired by the 5-pointed star of the Pentacle itself, a symbol of spiritual power over material conditions. Note that the shareable spread image for social media includes line art from my Life Line Tarot.

The Wound: What pain do I wear as a badge?

The Light: Where can I seek more healing when I’m ready?

The World: What should I know about how others feel that pain?

The Struggle: How does this old wound continue to affect me?

The Strength: What lessons of resilience have I learned from this?

Interpretive tip. If you’re struggling to understand the meaning of the Wound when it shows up, consider my spread for the 3 of Swords: Healing the Wound. That may help you uncover more clues or make what you aren’t letting yourself see almost impossible to ignore any longer.

WANT HELP CREATING YOUR OWN LAYOUTS?

You’ve got options! Join the Sage tier of my Patreon or enroll in the next semester of tarot! You’ll be able to take advantage of office hours, where we can talk through your ideas and how best to ask the questions that matter most and create a custom signature layout for you.

Can’t wait for the next semester to start? Sign up for my intensive fundamentals course for new and experienced readers, Read Tarot like a Nerd, where we get into the heart of asking questions that matter, along with a dozen or two other valuable topics to take your tarot readings beyond the basics. Or check out my Saturday seminars, including past recordings of Reading the Big Picture and Getting Intentional, which will help you create your own spreads.

And if you’re curious about the hard cards of tarot or the astrology of tarot, I have a course for that!