#resting this theory is the spiritual idea behind part two

[raddishwrites]

Are y’all fuckers ready for part two?

[uesp]

Theory: Todd is the sleeping Godhead that we all talk about. Also he achieved absolute CHIM

You're definitely free to come up with whatever theory on that you like, but if you're genuinely curious, I would say you're a bit off from the intended takeaway.

Trying to figure out who the Godhead is a bit of a self-defeating exercise. In fact, to get a bit ahead of the point I'm going to make, it's often easier to describe the One by what he is not. If you're looking at the rare in-series mentions of the Godhead (most of the uses of "godhead" are actually referring to more generic godhood, which is also a more modern form of "godhead"), you come up with two mentions of the Godhead, and only one of them describes the Godhead at all.

The eyes, once bleached by falling stars of utmost revelation, will forever see the faint insight drawn by the overwhelming question, as only the True Enquiry shapes the edge of thought. The rest is vulgar fiction, attempts to impose order on the consensus mantlings of an uncaring godhead.

From Waking Dreams of A Starless Sky

The Godhead is uncaring. And that is basically the depth of actual text on the Godhead. If you go with sources that did not appear in the game, you'll do a bit better, but not really to any satisfying degree. So how do we get a satisfying answer? We escape the confines of the rare and deliberately esoteric mentions of this part of the lore and look at its real-world inspiration. Speaking for myself, the best summary of this part of the lore I ever read is:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gnosticism

Sincerely, after reading that and its associated articles, I went from "wow this is all a bit complex" to "alright, this is surprisingly straightforward". To tangent slightly, while there are numerous fan writings that try to explore these concepts, and I do enjoy a lot of them, I find that some of them often have trouble expressing what it all actually means because they often restrict themselves to the trappings of TES. We're going to remove those trappings, and see if it helps.

If you want more help, here is how I mentally tie some TES lore topics to its real world counterpart.

The Godhead is the Godhead (Monad)

CHIM is Gnosis

CHIM has been described as the secret syllable of royalty. It is best understood as a state of being which allows for escape from all known laws and limitations. It is the process of reaching some sort of epiphany about the nature of the universe and one's place in it, leading to a simultaneous comprehension of the full scope of existence as well as one's own individuality.

Gnosis is the common Greek noun for knowledge. It is best known from Gnosticism, where it signifies a spiritual knowledge or insight into humanity's real nature as divine, leading to the deliverance of the divine spark within humanity from the constraints of earthly existence.

Amaranth is Emanationism

The Tower touches all the mantles of Heaven, brother-noviates, and by its apex one can be as he will. More: be as he was and yet changed for all else on that path for those that walk after. This is the third key of Nu-mantia and the secret of how mortals become makers, and makers back to mortals.

Emanationism is an idea in the cosmology or cosmogony of certain religious or philosophical systems. Emanation, from the Latin emanare meaning "to flow from" or "to pour forth or out of", is the mode by which all things are derived from the first reality, or principle. All things are derived from the first reality or perfect God by steps of degradation to lesser degrees of the first reality or God, and at every step the emanating beings are less pure, less perfect, less divine. Emanationism is a transcendent principle from which everything is derived, and is opposed to both creationism (wherein the universe is created by a sentient God who is separate from creation) and materialism (which posits no underlying subjective and/or ontological nature behind phenomena being immanent).

Anu and Padomay and their derivatives are Aeons

Lorkhan is the Demiurge

Lorkhan, the Missing God, is the Creator-Trickster-Tester deity present in every Tamrielic mythic tradition. He is known as the Spirit of Nirn, the god of all mortals. Names for versions or aspects of Lorkhan include Lorkhaj (the Moon Beast) in Elsweyr, Lorkh, the Spirit of Man, the Mortal Spirit, or the Sower of Flesh to the Reachmen, Sep in Hammerfell, Sheor in High Rock, Shor in Skyrim, and Shezarr in Cyrodiil. He convinced or contrived the Original Spirits (et'Ada) to bring about the creation of the Mundus, upsetting the status quo—much like his (figurative) father Padomay is usually credited for introducing instability, and hence possibility for creation, into the undivided universe (or the Beginning Place).

In the Platonic, Neopythagorean, Middle Platonic, and Neoplatonic schools of philosophy, the demiurge is an artisan-like figure responsible for fashioning and maintaining the physical universe. The Gnostics adopted the term demiurge. Although a fashioner, the demiurge is not necessarily the same as the creator figure in the monotheistic sense, because the demiurge itself and the material from which the demiurge fashions the universe are both considered consequences of something else. Depending on the system, they may be considered either uncreated and eternal or the product of some other entity.

The word demiurge is an English word derived from demiurgus, a Latinised form of the Greek δημιουργός or dēmiurgós. It was originally a common noun meaning "craftsman" or "artisan", but gradually came to mean "producer", and eventually "creator". The philosophical usage and the proper noun derive from Plato's Timaeus, written c. 360 BC, where the demiurge is presented as the creator of the universe. The demiurge is also described as a creator in the Platonic (c. 310–90 BC) and Middle Platonic (c. 90 BC – AD 300) philosophical traditions. In the various branches of the Neoplatonic school (third century onwards), the demiurge is the fashioner of the real, perceptible world after the model of the Ideas, but (in most Neoplatonic systems) is still not itself "the One". In the arch-dualist ideology of the various Gnostic systems, the material universe is evil, while the non-material world is good. According to some strains of Gnosticism, the demiurge is malevolent, as it is linked to the material world. In others, including the teaching of Valentinus, the demiurge is simply ignorant or misguided.

I think that by seeing these concepts side by side it will help make sense of it all. You can definitely research this further, and argue that specific parts of the lore are more directly related to other concepts, but from my limited understanding of theology/philosophy, this is a framework for understanding what the lore was based on, and the ideas that might otherwise go unconnected. If you can do better than me here, by all means, be better than me.

But this takes us to the secret question within all of this: How does this effect the setting? The answer to that is that it really doesn't. Knowing that the setting of The Elder Scrolls is the material world created by the Demiurge, separating its inhabitants from the Godhead, doesn't really change anything. After all, you can literally say the exact same thing about our world. The presence of these concepts in The Elder Scrolls setting should change how you appreciate it in roughly the same way that this school of thought existing in our own world changes your view on our setting.

If you thought this was interesting, I certainly agree with you. If you think this is all a bit too much, and don't want to think about it anymore, you won't be missing out on much by ignoring it going forward. If you want to explore different theories on this, you’re definitely free too, I hope you enjoy exploring your own thoughts on this subject.

[ulalumewitch]

I’ve had this Elucien fic rolling around my brain for a while and decided to put it out there. No warnings with this one. Just angst and bits of hope for possible futures (I swear I write things other than angst all the time - haha).

Happy Sunday everyone!

Word count: 2,807

Themes: Angst/Hope

Choices

Lucien couldn’t believe it. He could not believe that another Winter Solstice ended in utter ruins because of his mate. Because of his godsdamned mate and he’d had enough. He would end it, and end it now.

“Elain!” He shouted at her retreating figure.

But she pulled the ruby red cloak tighter around her shoulders and quickened her steps. Fresh snow remained mostly untouched on small front lawns and sidewalks of Velaris as he ran from the front door of the Riverside Estate after Elain. Most families and friends likely hunkered down in their homes enjoying fires and brandies and gifts and laughter with no cause to go out walking as the last hours of Solstice crept by entering the darkest hours of night before the dawn.

The longest night of the year. The longest three years of his life. Three years of being both rejected and not rejected by his mate. And he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Would you stop,” he growled as they reached the gate, “You owe me one conversation.”

Elain stopped. Her spine snapped straight. She turned and glared at him, her eyes molten with pure hatred.

Lucien had chosen his words carefully. Tempers he could handle, he’d had enough practice over the centuries with a hot headed High Lord. He could handle master manipulators and sweet talkers. He could handle battle worn generals and courtiers of the most delicate constitution. He could handle gossipers and those genuinely interested in friendship.

But what he could not handle was nothing. He could not handle the looks that went right through him. The unanswered questions. The blank stares. The Solstice presents delicately placed to the side and left alone as if they didn’t exist at all.

“I owe you nothing. Leave me alone.”

“I won’t. You are my mate -“

“I don’t want to be your mate!”

“Then reject me and reject he bond!” Lucien yelled, his voice echoing through the silent night.

The stars glittered in the black sky, now completely clear after the fast moving snow clouds from earlier in the evening had dissipated. It brought just enough snow to coat the city white before moving on. As if the Mother heard every prayer from the younglings of Night Court for a white Solstice, and then granted their wish.

Elain’s nostrils flared and for a moment, the briefest moment, her eyes flashed an emotion he couldn’t quite place but had seen before. And it hit him. She’d possessed the same look of bewilderment when she’d still been sopping wet from the Cauldron’s waters, Nesta clawing at her sobbing. The look of knowing but not knowing.

“Reject it,” he rasped, the fight and fire receding slightly, “Reject it so that I can move on. You think I enjoy this? You think that any of this has made me feel good over the last three years?”

“I didn’t choose you. I didn’t choose any of this. I didn’t want any of this,” she cried.

Lucien took a breath. It was rare he lost control like this. He’d spent centuries honing his reactions and temperament to be the Fox and mold his features and behaviors into whatever he’d needed in order to ferret out information, or to keep his own secrets safe. But he couldn’t do that around her, his mate.

“I didn’t choose you either,” Lucien said.

She flinched, and looked away down the street. She crossed her arms and shivered. Her cheeks flushed a pink as if kissed by two rose petals and once again her beauty struck him like a slap across the face.

“I know you were in love with another male -“

“Stop it -“

“I know you hate being Fae. I know what you did to try and turn yourself human again -“

“I said stop it,” Elain growled through clenched teeth, “Stop it. Why are you doing this?”

“Because I can’t take it anymore,” Lucien stated, willing himself to be calm, to stop shouting.

He needed this conversation. They both did.

“You wouldn’t know this because you refuse to ever speak to me but I was in love once too,” Lucien said and took a step closer to her, “I was in love with a female and planned to marry her. And my - And the High Lord of Autumn had her killed in front of me and I couldn’t save her.”

Elain’s lips parted in a silent gasp. Her brow furrowed. For a moment he thought she might ask a question, but instead she closed her lips and looked down at he ground.

“I didn’t choose to live without her. I didn’t choose to run away to another Court and make a home there. I didn’t choose a life of intelligence work, books, sparring, warring, and everything in between. But we don’t always get a choice, Elain. What we can choose is what we do with the things that happen to us.”

Lucien paused but she remained silent. Because of course she would stay silent. Fine. Maybe it would be easier this way.

“I chose to deepen my friendship with Tamlin and to truly be a part of his Court and I made the best of it. I chose to continue my education of Courts and history and everything in between so that I could help keep the peace as much as possible. I chose to become trained as a warrior so that I could be as strong and prepared as possible for any situation. I chose those things to make the best of my life. I chose not to wallow in the what-could-have-beens for centuries because no one can survive that way.”

Lucien took another step towards her so that they were only a few inches apart. He could see Elain’s breathing had increased slightly. Her arms tightened across her chest. But she did not move away.

“I did not choose to be your mate, no one gets that choice,” Lucien whispered, “But we can choose, together, whether we want to reject this mating bond to try to lessen its effects as much as possible. It will never go away completely, but if we officially reject it then we can at least bury it and move on separately and away from each other.”

“Is that what you want?” Elain whispered, and she glanced up at him, her eyes somehow still sparkling as if the sun reflected in them.

Lucien’s heart ached. It was the first question she’d asked him since asking if he could hear her beat those years ago. And she’d been so broken then, he could barely breathe around the memory of seeing her in such a state. So he told her the truth.

“What I want is for you to talk with me and be honest with me,” he began carefully, “I want to know why the Cauldron and Mother saw fit to pair us together. Do you know that mates are equally matched and often so is their magic, their power?”

Elain glanced away and nodded. She shifted on her feet slightly.

“I’ve done some research on it.”

Lucien leaned closer to her and clasped his hands behind his back. He didn’t need her or those obnoxious bats, whom he knew lurked in the shadows, to think he would touch her. Overbearing babysitters the lot of them, even if their hearts were in the right place.

“No one knows what I’m about to tell you Elain. You could use the information against me and spread it to the Inner Circle, or anyone who might wish me harm, or you could tuck it away for private reflection. But I have much more magic and power than anyone thinks. I only let a very little bit show in the company of others. And since we are mates, I have a theory that you are the same. You only show a small bit of what you are actually capable of and have hidden the rest away. Your sisters are powerful, Elain, and I find it very hard to believe that you would be different. I also think that one of the reasons you are so unhappy is because it scares you. I could help you discover what you’re capable of - learn about it, grow with it, strengthen it, control it, and use it. You were not given a choice to become Fae and I am sorry that neither Tamlin nor I realized what was happening until it was too late. You have no idea how sorry I am. And I am sorry that you lost the love of your life in the process. I’m sorry.”

Elain stared at him. Stared and stared.

Lucien could scarcely breathe. His heart lurched forward in his chest, begging him to tug on the bond, to bring her nearer. To touch her. Kiss her. Love her.

But he forced the instinct down. Even though every beat of his heart echoed, my mate, he shut all of it down.

“There are options other than rejection,” he began slowly, “If you would like, Elain, we could discuss it, but it can’t only be me talking. And if I’m being honest, it kills me that I don’t know you. Feyre used to talk about you all the time at Spring Court when she lived there. And over the past three years I’ve gotten bits from her and Nesta, on the rare occasion I speak with her. But those are their perspectives. I would like to know first hand, about you.”

Elain looked away and cleared her throat, “What is it you want to know?”

Hope sparked in Lucien’s chest. He tightened his hands behind his back. Carefully. He had to tread so, so carefully.

“Well, for starters, I’ve always wondered if there is anything other than gardening you enjoy? What do you like? What are your passions? Your dreams? What makes you happy? Upset? Do you have any religious or spiritual beliefs? Do you enjoy sports? Do you have a favorite season? Hobbies? Preferred genre of music? Books? I want to know about you, Elain, and not from anyone else. I want to experience you. I want to know why the godsdamned universe decided why you and I should be together.”

Elain let out a breath that could have been a laugh or a huff of annoyance. He wasn’t sure which, and it killed him that he didn’t know his mate well enough to know which it was.

“I hate winter,” she whispered and looked up at the sky, “I hate the cold. I never want to be cold again. I’ve had enough of it after living in that godforsaken hovel all those years. Spring has always been my favorite season. Is … how is it there?”

Lucien frowned slightly, “Improving at a glacial pace.”

“I remember the night Azriel and Feyre came to rescue me at Hybern’s camp,” she whispered, her arms tightening around her, “And I remember Azriel holding on to me as I held on to that poor girl and watching in horror as those beast things closed in on my sister. I thought she was dead. And then Tamlin came out of no where and saved her. Saved us. I think of that quite a bit actually.”

Lucien stared at her. What the hell was he supposed to say to that?

“If he needs assistance with his gardens, I could help. I’m bored to tears in winter here and I don’t think the High Lord of Spring should have flagging gardens, do you?” Elain asked and met his eyes then.

Strength shone in them. Her chin tipped up slightly and Lucien lost his breath. A shiver ran along his spine as he realized his assumption on her untapped and hidden power had likely been correct. He did not stare into the eyes of a doe but a Wolf. Of course a godsdamned Wolf would would lurk under her skin. She was an Archeron sister after all.

“No, I don’t think so either. It might help Tam, to have his estate restored a bit,” Lucien suggested carefully, “If you ever wanted to get away from the cold of Velaris during winter, I could arrange it.”

Elain looked away again and whispered, “I’ve been so lonely. I don’t know what to do.”

Lucien frowned as pain wrapped around his heart, and realized with utter horror, it was not his pain but hers. Gods, had she been living with this?

“Elain,” Lucien murmured, “All I’m asking for is to share one meal. One conversation. I’m not suggesting we get mated or married or any of it. Hell, I’m not even asking for a date. I’m only asking for one conversation so that we can both maybe decide if rejecting the bond really is the best thing or if maybe, maybe, there might be something here worth exploring, growing, tending like one of your gardens. No expectations. Just …”

“Just time to decide what kind of choice we want to make with what the Cauldron gave us?” Elain offered quietly.

A breath he didn’t know he’d been holding rasped through his lips. His gold eye whirred. He blinked and golden light swirled around Elain hedged with blush pink and warm vermillion. She looked like a goddess inside the sun, and gods did he want to worship her. But was she worth worshiping? He desperately wanted to find out.

He blinked and his eye showed her as any one would see her once again. Lucien nodded his agreement.

Elain cleared her throat and looked down the street, “I didn’t eat. Did you?”

“Not much, those fools love their drink on holidays,” Lucien offered with a small laugh, “They’re a happy lot though aren’t they?”

Elain shrugged, “I suppose. Are you hungry?”

Warmth spread through his chest. Lucien allowed a smile to touch his lips.

“I could eat.”

“Do you think any of the restaurants are open?” Elain asked.

“You want to have this conversation now?” Lucien asked incredulously.

A smile bloomed across her face. Her rosy cheeks pinked further and he’d never wanted to kiss anyone so badly in his life before.

Elain released her arms and crooked an elbow to him. He stared at the offered arm. Was he dreaming?

“Well, Fox?” Elain asked, “Shall we?”

Lucien’s heart leapt in his chest. He closed the last few inches between them and looped his arm through hers. Suddenly, the weight of a thousand stones of grief and dejection lifted from his shoulders. His heart felt so light he could have wept.

“I know of one restaurant that will be open. It’s not the best, but it’s decent and within walking distance,” Lucien began, “And after this conversation, if you would like to have another - if we would both like to have another - then I can take you to my favorite restaurant. It is in the middle of the largest botanical gardens in all of Prythian.”

Elain raised an eyebrow, “In the middle of winter?”

Lucien grinned at her and winked, “It’s in Summer Court.”

She nodded, “I would like that, if,” and softly cleared her throat, “If we both decide we would like another conversation after tonight that is.”

Lucien nodded, “Very well, Lady Light. Are you cold?”

A small smile. An even smaller snicker.

“A little.”

“Give me your hand,” Lucien offered his free hand to her, palm up.

Elain stared at his open palm. Lucien felt a small lick of pride at how still she became, like a true Immortal creature, she’d mastered the art of preternatural stillness.

Then, she lightly rested her hand against his. Lucien maintained eye contact with her as he closed his fingers around her hand and touched the spark of fire within him. Elain gasped and her eyes widened.

“How did you do that?” She murmured, and a small laugh escaped her, “I’m positively toasty.”

Lucien’s heart fluttered but kept his tone airy, almost bored, “A small bit of magic for me. It’s a gift not everyone possesses. Not many know I can do it. Shall we eat? I’m rather hungry myself.”

Elain nodded, “I would like that, thank you.”

Lucien nodded and let go of her hand but tightened his arm still hooked around hers slightly. He didn’t bother to hide the widening of his smile as she gently squeezed back.

He sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Mother as they walked arm in arm down the street, their tracks the only pair as they made their way away from the High Lord and Lady’s Riverside estate and into Velaris.

Lucien didn’t know what choice she would make in the end. He didn’t know what choice he would make in the end. But at least, for now, there was a sun dawning to end the longest night of the year. And he’d never been happier to see its light.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

[babymetaldoll]

“Ask the girl out, for crying out loud!” (Spencer Reid/ Reader)

Summary: Random talking about books and authors in the jet back from a case creates a lot of awkward silences between Spencer and Reader, they can actually even drive Rossi a little crazy. 

Pairing: Spencer Reid/ Reader

Warnings: I’m getting fluffier and fluffier with every word I write

Word count:1,2K 

Masterlist    

.

It was a long flight from Seattle back to Quantico. Everybody was asleep on the jet, after a whole night awake, catching yet another serial killer. Ok, not everybody was asleep. Spencer was sitting at the very back of the plane, reading his favorite Edgar Allan Poe anthology. He knew by heart every word of it but revisiting it made him feel like home, like talking with an old friend. 

He didn’t have many old friends, so he guessed books could do the trick. 

- “Again? really?”- (Y/N) asked him and sat next to him holding two cups of hot coffee. 

Spencer smiled, not taking his eyes from the page. He knew if he did, he was going to blush and get nervous, ‘cos every time they talked, he got a fluttery feeling in the stomach. He couldn’t help it, even after all those years. He just had to live with the fact he loved his best friend in silence and made his best to pretend nothing was going on. 

- “I can’t help it”- he answered and pretended to continue reading. 

- “I would tell you to find another book you love, but I’m pretty sure you already read all the books in the world”- Spencer gave her a knowing grin, trying to annoy her. 

- “Jealous?”- but he failed

- “I don’t know… I don’t think so, I like to know there’s a book out there I still don’t know, and that it might turn out to be my favorite.”

Reid frowned thinking about it. When was the last time he got so excited with a book it turned to be his favorite? he had read many books, he had loved a lot of them, but nothing had the same effect on him as that Edgar Allan Poe’s anthology he got when he was six. Maybe it was the impact it had on him at such a young age. Maybe he just was a sucker for horror. Whatever the reason was, Spencer hadn't found another book to call his favorite. 

- “Have you ever thought about which character from a book you would like to meet?”- (Y/N) looked at him with honest curiosity after a few minutes in silence and forced him to stop reading again. Spencer didn’t really mind the interruption, he wanted to talk to her.  

- “No, I don’t know… I think I’m more curious about talking with authors than with characters”- he frowned, rubbing his chin, realizing he had never thought about it.  

- “Why?” 

- “I guess I want to know what they thought about while creating these amazing worlds, how they came up with such brilliant ideas…”- Spencer sat correctly on his seat and closed his book, biting his lips to cover a smile- “Did you know that Sir Connan Doyle was a detective of sorts himself? he actually used the Holmes method to solve the murder of an 82-year-old woman from Glasgow, named Marion Gilchrist”

- “Are you serious?” 

- “Yes! and he was friends with Harry Houdini, but had a bitter spat on the grounds of spiritualism that broke their friendship entirely”- (Y/N)’s mouth fell open 

- “No way!” 

- “Yeah! I’ve always wanted to know what that argument was about… can you imagine what it was to be friends with Houdini?” 

- “Maybe Sir Arthur kept asking and asking him to do magic tricks for him, and Houdini just wanted to make him disappear”- (Y/N) made a pause and looked at Spencer’s wide-opened eyes, waiting for his reaction. 

- “Really?”- he closed his eyes, looking in pain after such a terrible joke- “Please, don’t tell me you thought that could ever be funny”- but (Y/N) giggled

- “Oh come on! it wasn’t that bad” 

- “It makes me want to disappear”- the girl elbowed her friend, feeling her heart beating a little faster each time he smiled at her. 

- “Well, I do want to meet a few book characters”- (Y/N) changed the subject and sipped her coffee- “I think there are a lot of them who need to be told a few things” 

- “What? who?”- Reid furrowed his brows, trying to follow her idea  

- “Well, for starters, I need to have one long talk with Holden Caulfield”

- “I can’t imagine what you would say to him”

- “I would give him a hug, I love that kid, I’ve always thought we could have been friends growing up, I mean, we were both rebels against our families and school...”

- “Did you know there is a highly shared theory about The Catcher in the Rye among conspiracy groups? It’s believed that the book is actually used as a trigger for sleeper assassins who were trained by the CIA’s MK-Ultra mind control program”

(Y/N) smiled at her best friend and didn’t say a word for a few seconds. He didn’t know if he had said something wrong or not, he had just said the first thing that came to mind. As pretty much always. 

- “Are you trying to tell me I might be a serial killer, Reid?”- she asked, leaning into him slowly. As she got closer, her heart beat faster, and Spencer’s cheeks turned red. He had to hold his book tight to make sure his hands didn’t shake. His eyes were fixed to her lips, and all he could whisper was. 

- “No… I don’t think you… are… a serial… killer”- he even stuttered. For a second, they were so close they could actually kiss if Reid moved his body a few inches closer. But neither of them did a thing. As always. 

- “I would also love to meet Mr. Darcy and ask him to stop being an ass with Lizzy”- (Y/N) sat back on her seat and sighed, trying not to look as frustrated as she felt. 

- “You did finish the book, right?”- Reid asked playfully, but she just groaned under breath. 

- “I know they got married and lived happily ever after, but for the first half of the book, he was a jerk and it really upset me”

- “It’s called character growth, (Y/N), it’s part of the story”

- “Well, sometimes it’s annoying! don’t you ever want to yell at some book character to stop joking around and do the damn right thing? like, we know you love the girl! ask her out once for all!” 

There was a heavy silence between the two of them. A long, awkward silence. You could feel the sexual tension in the air as they stared at each other.  

Yes, everyone knew those two were madly in love with each other. 

No, neither of them wanted to make the first move, afraid of the rejection. 

Yes, Spencer was sure (Y/N) would laugh on his face if he ever asked her out 

No, (Y/N) could never refuse a date with Spencer, she loved him ever since he first started rambling facts, five minutes into introducing himself. 

Yes, they were driving the whole team insane. 

- “We all know exactly what it’s like to want to yell at someone’s face “ask the girl out for crying out loud”!!”- Rossi nearly shouted standing behind their seats, making (Y/N) and Spencer jump- “Now, if you are not going to say what we all want you to say, I will suggest you two shut up and let the rest of us sleep.” 

Spencer and (Y/N) looked at each other and shrugged. Reid opened his book again and she just closed her eyes. Rossi walked back to his seat and sighed.

- “I’m gonna marry again before those two have their first date”- he whispered to Hotch, who chuckled and didn’t take his eyes from the files he was reading. 

- “That’s not really that hard, David.” 

[missbehavior0u0]

LOVE that aradia eridan ghost hunting image.. can you gimme a run down on the idea, if you have one :O?

Why, I’m so glad you asked! OuO

The gist of it is that everyone lives in a medium sized town on the northeast side of the United States that tends to attract the supernatural.

Given the naming tendencies ‘round these parts I’ve come up with a few working names for the town, examples being Bourosburg, Fort Cherry, and Wales 2. I’ve always liked those alternate Universes where the alpha trolls/kids and the beta trolls/kids live with their counterparts along with their ancestors, so I made this one of them! 0u0

Aradia, Damara and the handmaiden live behind the family laundromat. Handmaiden dearest emigrated to the US in the 1970’s from Peru, and has lived there ever since!

Dave and Sollux live in their respective apartments, Tavros’s family has a convenience store on the edge of town, Feferi, Equius, Caliborn/Calliope and Vriska live in ridiculous rich people houses in the Bourosburg/Fort Cherry/Wales 2 hills, Eridan and Rose live two blocks across from each other in poorly designed modern houses and have an ongoing lemonade stand rivalry, and Nepeta and Karkat are neighbors in the middle class suburbs. The rest are scattered about town.

Now, onto the supernatural!

Only those born with second sight, I.e. the Megidos, are privy to the world of spirits. An inordinate amount of ghosts cluster around Bourosburg/Fort Cherry/Wales 2, even if it’s miles away from their place of death. Others are born with second auditory processing capabilities, i.e. the captors, who assume they’ve gone quite looney. The average down to earth supernatural phenomena that is perceivable by the naked human eye is often overlooked or rationalized due to humanity {Trollanity?[Carapacianity?(Cherubanity???)]}’s habit of not believing what they can’t understand. “Hey Ron, wazzat a Sasquatch rummaging through our garbage?” “I dint see nuffin. Must’ve been a bear.” “Yeah, hah, don’t know what I was thinking.”

Aradia, however, has a tendency of pointing and saying “That’s not a mutated bear, that’s bigfoot!” And making everyone else very uncomfortable. Her neighbors and acquaintances of neighbors often send word to the Handmaiden to fetch her daughter when something they can’t explain needs getting rid of. One day, chased by a belligerent goose into the forbidden-in-theory-but-not-in-practice apartment above the laundromat, Eridan and Aradia stumble upon a journal written by a mysterious author that makes an effort to categorize the phenomena of Bourosburg/Fort Cherry/Wales 2, their habits, and how to dispose of them. Nearby, scattered amidst the clutter, is an eyepiece ( a stone with a hole inside affixed to a number of lenses and a noseclip ) that allows the psychically powerless to see spirits and look at ordinary beasts with new sight. Eridan makes good use of it.

Armed with new knowledge, Aradia goes from ‘that girl you call when spooks are about’ to ‘that girl you call when spooks are about except you have to pay her now and also she has a partner.’ Together, A and M spiritual associates solve otherworldly crime and unravel mysteries that didn’t need unraveling, but damn if they didn’t just get unraveled, adding a C and P to their name along the way!

Over their first year of spectral sleuthing, stranger than usual things have been happening in Bourosburg/Fort Cherry/Wales 2. Haunting have hit a record high and... ‘different’ creatures have been manifesting in the woods. The Journal’s author hinted that higher beings are behind the weird magnetism of their town, but they haven’t been a nuisance. Until now, that is.

Eridan, Aradia, and anyone else who’s willing to help must get to the bottom of what has changed, before it crosses over onto the other side.

If you couldn’t tell, this is heavily inspired by Over The Garden Wall, Gravity Falls, Night In The Woods and The Spiderwick Chronicles! :U I love stories of that sort and wanted to make a homestuck version of one, so here it is! ^u^

[johns-prince]

Let's play the speculation game and say McLennon was real. Going with the common idea that Paul dumped John in India, wasn't the "let's all be friends, write together and go on double dates with our wives" angle Paul seemed to hope for completely delusional? Why would someone with John's issues stick around and celebrate Paul's happiness with someone else after being downgraded?

I have great respect for Paul's decision of not being John's nanny/handler for the rest of his life. But I've always been annoyed by his inability to let the man go for good. Paul, you've made your choice, my friend. Enough with the sad songs about not being called back or turning up on John's doorstep with a guitar when the he was spending time with his own family. People hate that but some things in the world really are black or white. You can't have it both ways.

Why speculate when we know it was and is real 

Alright so, let me try to unpack my thoughts cohesively get ya tinfoil hats on y’all;

If we go with the theory that during 1967, when Paul and John were practically living together and conjoined at the hip, taking LSD together and sharing those intense and intimate experiences that even Pau’s girlfriend Jane had become envious of— John had come to the realization of what he wanted, finally acknowledged it and came to accept it. 

So in India, John tried to confront Paul about their relationship and their “relationship,” and openly admit to Paul that he wanted more, that he was now willing to leave Cynthia and Julian for a life he truly wanted or desired, and that included Paul (but to what extent is what we debate I guess) 

And now that I’m thinking about it, we also know John was sort of beginning to spiral downward in 1968. It was obvious his marriage with Cynthia was at it’s end, and he didn’t want to work on it anymore. He was surrounding himself more with druggies, an unsavory crowd that Cynthia really didn’t approve of (Yoko was part of this crowd) and he was actively pulling away.  

I think John was realizing that, he just wasn’t happy. That, putting everything he had into becoming one of the most successful musicians in the world, to become bigger then Elvis Presley, didn’t make him happy. It didn’t fix what needed fixing in him, what needed addressing. He was still drowning despite it all. 

So you’ve got the trip to India, the boys going in hopes that perhaps the Maharishi Mahesh Yog and his spiritual teachings would somehow give a new perspective on things, produce the answer that would save the band (save John and Paul) from what appeared to be an inevitable downfall. But as we know, that isn’t what was needed. 

John and Paul needed to talk. The lack of consistent communication between them for years and years, and the fact John needed a therapist, he needed rehab. So did Paul, during the White Album era. 

I don’t believe Paul dumped John, but I do think John could have easily misconstrued Paul taking a step back and not willing to just go blindly, impulsively jumping off a theoretical cliff with him, as being rejected. We know Paul had to sort of take the position of ‘think before you leap’, to be more conscious of the actions and decisions he and the others decide to take, and how it would effect them as individuals, and especially them as a band (because frankly the others wouldn’t) and we know that John could be incredibly impulsive, only thought of the consequences after the fact. That, and who’s to say such a proposition and confrontation from John hadn’t scared Paul? Got him feeling those insecurities of his own crawling up. 

Paul wanted a traditional family, he wanted to have a wife and children. But Paul also wanted John, he wanted and loved Lennon-McCartney, and he didn’t think (or he’d hoped) him getting married and having a family would really change anything between them (because John got married and had a kid and they were still able to do go and do whatever they wanted together, so what was the difference—) that he could still keep what he had with John, that they could still stay together after The Beatles split. Get around to writing that musical, and grow old together still writing and making music, still creating together.

How I see it, is that Paul wanted to have his cake and eat it too.

Paul, being fine with keeping the status quo between them, it was safe and enough (right?), but John vehemently wasn’t fine with it anymore, and it wasn’t enough for him. Nothing was enough for him, as we know; John was a very all-or-nothing individual, and expected complete devotion and love from someone, because receiving less felt like rejection and abandonment was only around the corner. This way of feeling and thinking for John was only exasperated by the drugs, his alcoholism, and his spiraling mental health. 

Paul could have tried compromising with John, and John still could have taken that as a complete rejection of his feelings and what he wanted, and what he had hoped and thought Paul also wanted. 

I believe Paul probably didn’t even know himself what he had done wrong, or that he did anything wrong. I don’t think Paul believed he was downgrading John to anything either.

If only they had talked.

Then they returned from India, and the rest as we know it...

“To me, a summary is something like: “gifted, disturbed boy with tremendous amount of drive to outrun a bad childhood discovers love for music and creative soulmate(s) and gives everything he has to become the most famous musician in the world, hoping it will make him happy. He does, but it doesn’t, and people who don’t have his best interests separate him from his friends, his creation and creative spark, and ultimately himself. He’s too screwed up by addiction, mental illness, and unaddressed traumas to change things, so he retreats further into addiction and mental illness, wishing he could somehow regain his lost spark. He makes a few halfway steps toward doing so, but they’re not enough, and ultimately he is killed in front of his apartment building where, 24 hours later, his wife installs the man she had been sleeping with behind his back.”"

— Michael Bleicher, The Artist as a Dissipated Man: Fred Seaman’s “The Last Days of John Lennon.”

Right, so both John and Paul made their choices in life. Some choices and decisions that we as fans and outside observers might never be able to understand, or agree with.

But who’s to say Paul (and John), couldn’t, didn’t, or don’t regret those choices and decisions? 

I get what you’re saying, I understand. Why can’t Paul move on? He made his choices, why is it 40, 50 years later, that Paul can’t just let John go? Let sleeping dogs lie, all that.

Because Paul loved John, still loves John, to this day. 

Because, clearly Paul has some regrets. He regrets how things were handled during the Divorce. He regrets not hugging John enough. He regrets not telling John, when he had the chance and time, that he loved him (and without the help of alcohol) When you love someone so deeply, and suddenly, without warning, they’re taken from you and the world, you regret a lot, and you miss what could have been, the ‘What if’s.’ 

Paul said that what he and John were, were soulmates. I don’t know how it feels to lose a soulmate. I don’t know if I’ll ever get to know how it feels to get the opportunity to love and be around them. 

How awful do you think it is to meet your soulmate, but you cannot freely love them? Can’t just, be, with them? Not in just one way, bestmates, legendary partners, but, as everything that the word Soulmate brings along and includes with it? 

That God decided to have them be of the same sex, during a time where it was illegal to love and be with someone of the same sex, and could even be a potential death sentence to be assumed or thought of as a ‘queer.’ 

So, you take whatever you can with them. 

Then that isn’t enough. One grows restless, desperate for more. It can’t happen, not realistically, not without consequences of varying degrees. 

Strain, miscommunication to none. They communicate through a musical, artistic language which just isn’t enough. Drugs, alcohol, mental illness and emotional turmoil, it’s all too much. It breaks. Soulmates are still flawed human beings. 

You have people who work to purposefully pin them against each other. Parasites and piggybackers. 

A nasty divorce and breakup between two lovers that never were.

And then, after ten years, it’s happening. You two are talking again, things are tense and awkward still sometimes, but something’s changed. You’ve planned on reuniting, couldn’t do it this year, because the studio you wanted was booked. So you plan for after the New Year. 

Then, your soulmate is killed. Just, taken away from you, like nothing. Violently and suddenly. And all the possibilities... The time... Gone. Ripped away from both of you.

I can’t blame Paul for not letting go. I can’t say I’d ever be able to understand the sort of pain and heartbreak he experienced. He still goes through it! It’s still there. He’s just learned how to manage it a bit better. 

I’d say it’s more pathetic then it is annoying— and I don’t mean it in a way to insult Paul. I really don’t. Because John was just as pathetic when it came to his obvious obsession, desire, and love for Paul, too. 

Love, that kind of soul-deep love, it can make you pathetic and hopeless. And it’s not something you can just... let go for good. 

Wanting, or expecting Paul to let go of John for good... Firstly would be impossible, and secondly, how do you let go of a soulmate? John is a part of Paul, whether some like it or not. Can’t really have one without the other. 

Can’t have Lennon without McCartney, and vice-or-versa. Forever intertwined, are they.

[softyoongiionly]

Portraits of a Tiger || 03

Legends of a great and equally terrifying warrior nicknamed the Tiger have been emerging from your fellow villagers for quite sometime. Stories of his skill, his stealth and his supposed wickedness have been passed around to the point where he is more prophecy than person. You have lived your life with a strong sense of conviction, rarely letting gossip influence your opinion. However, you would be lying if you said that his legacy didn’t intrigue you. When the Tiger and his infamous army arrive in your village to refuel, you come face to face with the man behind the myth.

And no amount of marketplace gossip would ever be enough to capture the true complexity of his nature.

Pairing: Merchant! Reader x Warrior! Yoongi

Genre: Adventure, Romance, Smut (later), Fluff, Angst

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: language, depictions of violence both verbal and physical however they are fairly mild, mentions of war and power dynamics, there will be smut in future parts so, (18+ only please).

A/N: They are back and realer than ever I AM ACTUALLY NOT OK RIGHT NOW PLEASE CRY WITH ME IN MY ASK BOX. OK LOVE YOUUUU!!!

@bulletproofbirdy​ my sweet and beautiful friend! I owe this all to you. Never doubt your brain because, its freaking genius. I love you.

“What did they say?” Yoongi asks, his lips resting on the back of his hand as he leans onto the wooden table.

Seokjin sighs, “They said that they have observed these groups using similar tactics. Rachel has noticed that they encircle the perimeter of the village first and slowly work their way in, Y/N agreed with her observation.”

“Usually raiders blitz their way into a territory, right? We’re obviously dealing with something else here...” Hoseok interjects, looking to his General for answers.

Yoongi’s features tense up, his hand moving to settle onto the table, “I don’t understand what invaders would want with this territory-” He seems to grow irritated, his eyes transfixed upon a map of their current region, “it’s several miles from any meaningful trade route, the port is at least 20 hours by horseback; it makes absolutely no sense.”

Before anyone else can intervene, Yoongi turns his attention to Namjoon, who sits at the other end of the table, his brows furrowed in concentration as he scribbles furiously in his journal.

“What do you think of this?” Yoongi murmurs.

Namjoon doesn’t look up, he just continues his current task as he responds, “I think it’s time I pay the Meddleways a visit...”

Immediately, tension spreads amongst the group.

Yoongi shakes his head, “I don’t think that’s necessary Namjoon, they-”

Namjoon looks up, pointing his gaze directly at Yoongi, “They are still a threat, hyung. Vengeance is a messy motive sure but, it’s extremely powerful. If they are influenced solely by their desire to harm you for what you did with their leader, they will stop at nothing until their objective is complete.”

The Meddleways were an extremist group that had a nasty habit of weaseling their way into vulnerable villages and, attempting to coax the inhabitants into joining what is essentially a cult. The Queens got wind of their practices and immediately tasked Yoongi’s fleet with understanding more of what they were capable of. Enter Namjoon, posing as a medicine man from the East port who sought after a spiritual awakening. Namjoon lived with the group for just under two weeks before he realized the true nature of the group. Their mission was simple: infiltrate the target village, strip the surrounding area of natural resources and, dismantle their leadership and, infiltrate their religious systems.

They were essentially, a very deadly gang of power-hungry miscreants whose true objective was to expand their influence and take over the Queens territory, which would inevitably lead to the fall of the royal family.

It’s no surprise that once Namjoon reported his findings, the Queens were understandably horrified and moved them all the way up Yoongi’s watchlist.

Due to the trust Namjoon had built with them, they didn’t think twice when he suggested that they accelerate their course to get to the village due to the oncoming storm. He led them right into the trap of the Tiger himself; well, the Tiger and his 22,000 men.  

Namjoon also made a carefully crafted choice to avoid revealing himself as a traitor, should any of the remaining members (those who weren’t slain or arrested) decide to regroup and continue their leader’s mission.  

“Do you really think their motive to settle the score is enough for them to endanger their own lives over? I told them that if they continued their work, they would meet the same fate as their brethren.” Yoongi’s voice is tired but he tries to remain alert for the sake of his fleet.

Namjoon nods, “I do. That is the way they operate. I don’t doubt that they reconvened after the fall of Xansa. They have likely moved on to someone else.”

Xansa.

At the sound of his name, Yoongi sighs uneasily and shakes his head as the scar along his eye ignites with the memory of its inception.

Xansa was the leader of the Meddleways: the brains, the heart and the soul.

Namjoon warned Yoongi of his cruelty after witnessing the way he treated his followers. His charisma was as deadly as his blade and his need for power dripped from his aura like coagulated blood.  

He was ruthless.

From what Namjoon could gather, he alone had hundreds of deaths upon his hands. His plan wasn’t just to expand his influence; he sought after total domination.

Yoongi fought him during their capture of the Meddleways and it’s one of the few times throughout Yoongi’s career that he genuinely thought he was going to die.  

He survived and killed Xansa in the middle of a thunderstorm, in front of all of his followers, just as the local stories have told.

Xansa left his mark on Yoongi however and ensured that he never forgot the time his life was almost ripped from him.  

“As of now, I don’t think we have enough evidence to prove this theory Namjoon but, I will consider your input and ask that you alert me of any other ideas you might have. For the time being, I don’t want anyone of you away from the fleet. If there truly is a new group of invaders on the horizon, they will look for any excuse to shed blood and prove their power. Understood?”

The six of them nod, lips tight with concentration as they listen intently to their General.

Yoongi values the opinions of his men very much and they know that they are free to speak as often as they see fit. At the end of the day however, Yoongi has the final say. He is their leader and his word is gold. They trust him enough to follow his orders without question, even if they don’t always understand his intentions.

Yoongi lets out another breath before nodding towards the exit of the tent, “Eat well tonight and turn in early. Training will get harder tomorrow as we will be teaching the recruits how to disarm their opponent. Jungkook-ah,” He turns to his younger brother, “I need you awake before dawn to assist me with the morning briefing.”

Jungkooks smiles, his head bobbing with an eager nod, “Yes hyung.”

Yoongi resists the fondness that blooms in his chest, patting a hand on back, “Very good. Namjoon- please continue exploring further theories and prepare for a possible journey to your connections when I deem it safe to do so. Hoseok, you can take the morning off but I will need you out here by midday to continue your classes. Jin hyung, I need you to enter the village and gather more information on their recent raids. The village leaders are located near the market plaza. Jimin and Taehyung, you will be with me most of the day as I will need to use you in my demonstrations.”

“Should I tell Y/N to halt her deliveries then? Since we will all be preoccupied?” Jin inquires hesitantly.

The bread supply is already depleted, and he is unhappy at the thought of going without it, particularly after a hard day’s work.

“I doubt Hyung would refuse a visit from her. Even on such a busy day...” Jimin smirks, wrapping an arm around Taehyung who chuckles warmly.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, “It makes no difference to me whether or not she does her delivery.”

Jin throws an incredulous look his way, “Yoongi. You aren’t seriously going to pretend she hasn’t caught your attention are you?”

Namjoon is scribbling in his journal again but he doesn’t miss a beat as he murmurs his input, “Hyung is worried that getting involved with a civilian will be complicated so, he is concealing his emotions for her because it’s easier that way. However, he will probably leave during our meal tonight to go see her because, he is captivated. According to the shift in his body language, he also has strong sexual urges for her as well but, fears that getting involved with her in such a way would be irresponsible as he still has time left in the Queens Army.”

He doesn’t even look up from his journal as he psychoanalyzes his hyung. His tone is cool and almost detached but his lips twitch with a smile as soon as Jimin and Taehyung begin laughing.

Yoongi is unable to help the shock that colors his features, his cheeks reddening with the heat of embarrassment as he watches the rest of his fleet begin to laugh at his expense.

“Did I miss anything?” Namjoon looks up finally, smirking across the table.

They expect Yoongi to rush out of the tent in a fit of denial but, instead he slumps back in his chair, his own smirk decorating his features as he stares at Namjoon across the table, “Just one thing...”

Namjoon’s brows raise, “Oh? Enlighten me please...”

Yoongi chuckles, moving his finger in a come hither motion to prompt the rest of his fleet to lean in eagerly.

They aren’t used to their leader sharing his emotions so, they are besides themselves at the thought of hearing more.

“That I would feel an immense amount of displeasure when being psychoanalyzed by my own solider which would then result in the punishment of the entire fleet in the form of hmm-” Yoongi places a finger on his chin in thought, “running drills for 2 hours after training tomorrow? Does that sound about right to you Namjoon?”

The group groans, Jin’s eyes widening in horror, “Namjoon-ah! Look what you’ve done!”

Namjoon however doesn’t flinch though, he just chuckles as him and Yoongi exchange conversation through shared eye contact.

“Hyung, please...” Jimin whines, reaching for Yoongi’s hand, “Don't make us do that, I hate running- it's not even in my job description.”

Yoongi just quirks a brow, a smirk still on his lips, “If you’d like me to stay out of your plans for the day, I suggest you stay out of mine. Is that something you think you all could manage?”

“Oh yes, absolutely hyung- no problem.”

“Who’s y/n? Never heard of her...”

“Hyung you are always right; that’s why we trust you, you know? You are the world’s greatest general.”

“We won't say anything, we promise.”

Yoongi chuckles, his eyes glinting with a bit of fondness, “Namjoon?”

Namjoon nods, lifting his hands to concede despite the grin still on his mouth, “Your words are divine my General.”

A phrase very often said in the fleet’s initial training with Yoongi.

It was a psychological tactic he used to build trust between him and his trainees but now, so many years later, it’s looked upon with humor.

“Good.” He stands, a look of complete satisfaction on his face, “Eat your meal and then it’s straight to bed. I better not see any empty cots when I return...”

There is quite a bit of movement in the tent as Yoongi makes his way to the exit, with the rest of his fleet (sans Namjoon) quickly abiding by his orders.  

As Yoongi pushes aside the cloth door of the tent, the light from the full moon hanging over their camp causes him to turn around.

“Yah-” He nods to Namjoon, his finger pointing through the opening of the tent, “it’s a full moon.”

Namjoon perks up, shoving his journal aside hastily and practically tripping over his own feet as he stumbles eagerly towards Yoongi.

Before Namjoon brushes past him, he looks at Yoongi with a sheepish smile and bows his head,

“Thank you hyung...”

Yoongi smirks fondly, tipping his head in return, “Send her my best.”

Namjoon’s smile broadens, nodding eagerly before rushing out towards the moon.

As cold as Namjoon may seem, he too has a lover on his mind.

Danielle.

Childhood sweetheart who became his wife as soon they were 18.

Through various aspects of Namjoon’s personal faith, he believes that the fastest way to communicate with her is through the moon. The moon has the strongest gravitational pull when it’s at its fullest so Namjoon usually spends most of those nights, speaking with her until sunrise.

He sends letters too but, the moon brings him comfort.

Just as she does.  

Yoongi chuckles at his eagerness, watching him until he finds a place near the edge of their camp to sit and begin.

Speaking of lovers on the mind...

As much as Yoongi hates to be predictable, he would be lying if he said that Namjoon’s assumptions of him had been incorrect.  

He will be going to see you tonight.  

Even though he isn’t certain of where things might be headed between the two of you, he can’t help but wish to be near you again.  

Captivated was the word Namjoon had used and as Yoongi starts on the path towards the river, he grins to himself; captivated truly was the perfect word.  

You weren’t exactly sure if Yoongi would show up at the River tonight.

It’s not like the two of you had an agreement to meet.

In fact, the last time you saw him, he was doing his nightly walk and rather than stopping to say hello to you, he merely smiled and bowed his head in your direction.

The two of you had held hands the night before so, you figured that maybe something were to happen between you but, then again, maybe he was just looking for comfort.

Or attention.

You don’t imagine he experiences the physical touch of another person unless it’s during battle, which can’t be a very pleasurable experience.  

As you slip your shoes off near the entrance of the river, your heart flutters at the association of Yoongi and pleasure in the same sentence. You know you’re likely only causing your own suffering to think of him this way but, you can’t help it.

You want him.  

You really do and with everything you have, you hope he wants you too.

The stickiness on the back of your neck pulls you out of your thinking as it reminds you of the incredibly hot day you’ve just worked through.  

Towards the end of summer, the sun decides to give an encore of what has been an already sweltering and humid season. The week before it begins to cool down, the temperature comfortable and breezy before your region is hit with one final heat wave. Today, in the marketplace you quite literally salivated over the thought of cooling down in the river that evening.  

The river is often packed during days like today but once the sun sets, everyone heads back to their homes.  

That is when you choose to come by.  

It’s quite peaceful in the evening, the heat is still present but bearable and the slight breeze that whistles through the trees provides solace on your flushed skin.  

You don’t plan on fully submerging yourself because, you aren’t entirely fond of the idea of your feet being suspended in the deep and dark waters of the river.

Instead, you opt to wear a blue linen set that you often wearing during warmer months which will allow you to wade in the water without getting your clothes wet.

The river runs cold all year round, freezing over during the winter time but the cool sensation is welcome against the tips of your toes. You step further in, letting out a deep sigh and allow yourself to shut your eyes as you wade further into the water.

The water surrounds your ankles and just as it begins to slowly surround your calves, you hear the low melody of a voice you have waited for all day.

“Y/N?” Yoongi calls gently and it makes you grin because, you can sense he is actively trying not to scare you again.

Turning around, you are met with the sight of him; hair pulled back, white linen pants and a tighter fitting black shirt. It’s the first time you're seeing his arms and immediately, you’re able to recognize the symbols of both his strength and his experience. His skin looks beautiful in the moonlight, the sinewy dips of his muscles travelling alongside the colors of his veins, various scars littering the surface of his arms.  

He truly is something else entirely.

“Thank you for warning me this time instead of sneaking up on me.” You tease, the water sloshing as you turn your back to the river.

His lips twitch, “I’ve never snuck up on you before, you just aren’t as prepared as you should be, especially for someone who likes to wander out into the forest by themselves...”

“The forest is technically that way.” You quip, pointing through the trees.

Finally, his lips crack with a grin as he shakes his head at you, “Technically it is but, danger can lurk around every corner.”

You can’t but giggle, feeling rather giddy in his presence, “You make a good point- the fluffy squirrels and chirping birds are truly vicious creatures...”

He rolls his eyes then and shakes his head once more, a light chuckle leaving his lips as he steps towards you.

But as he’s opening his mouth to speak, you drop the bit of sarcasm in your tone.

“How was your day?”

Yoongi feels a bit of warmth in his chest as he genuinely can’t remember the last time someone asked him that question.

Immediately however, he is hit with a pang of anxiety, the conversation he had with his men coming back into his mind.

Looking upon your warm expression, he fully appreciates your beauty.

The curves of your face, the sincerity in your gaze, the small smile on your lips...

He knows you’re capable of holding your own but, after hearing of a possible threat, he is infected with the need to protect you.  

“It was fine. How was your day?” He attempts to reign in the worry in his tone, feeling very confident in his ability to conceal his true emotions.

He should know better...

“What’s wrong?” You ignore his inquiry regarding your day, stepping towards him once more, unsure of how close you should get.

He chuckles and shakes his head, “Nothing. Why do you think something is wrong?

“You look troubled-” Pointing a finger towards his face, you soften your tone, “Is something bothering you?”

Yoongi feels strangely emotional at your concern, still not fully understanding your interest in his feelings.  

He doesn’t want to lie to you but, he also doesn’t want to spend his time with you talking about potential danger.

Besides, he really would like to hear about your day.

“It’s nothing. Just had a meeting with my men earlier, things got a little tense that’s all.” He assures you before extending a hand your way, “I’m off-duty now though and I’d really like to hear about your day if that’s alright...”

The sight of his hand sends butterflies down your throat and into your stomach before you interlock your fingers with his a little too eagerly.

He chuckles warmly, noticing your excitement and gently pulls you closer to him.  

Being near Yoongi feels almost familiar.

It’s comforting and slightly intoxicating as the skin of his forearm brushes along the inside of yours.

The two of you begin following the length of the river, your plans and shoes suddenly forgotten.

“My day was ok...” You begin, tilting your head, “the heat was unbearable though. I thought I was going to faint in the middle of the plaza today. Ugh and then Jane kept going on about how I needed to find a husband and start a family, ‘ You aren’t getting any younger you know? Sooner or later you’re going to end up a spinster peddling night shade for a decent meal’ “ Your face scrunches up as you imitate the very unique tone of Jane’s voice and it causes Yoongi to chuckle warmly beside you, amusement coloring his features.

“Don’t laugh!” You whine, leaning into him but, your mouth is already pulling up into a smile, “She’s relentless!”

Yoongi continues laughing, using his finger to flick a tear from the corner of his eye, “She is quite abrasive. I actually like that about her but-” He points at you, “She shouldn’t be harassing you about your marital status. I assume that you’re unmarried by choice...”

There go the butterflies again.

“Why do you assume that?”

Yoongi glances at you before returning his gaze on the path you two are on. The corner of his mouth is pulled up into a smile as he lets out a breath, “I’m mainly assuming that there have been other suitors you’ve crossed paths with. You don’t seem like the type of person to settle or the type of person who makes decisions based on the opinions of others.”

As flattered as you are by his statement, there is one particular thing that captures your attention.

“Other suitors?” You raise your brows, stealing a glance his way in time to see him fully grin.

“Yes,” He nods, tightening his features with sincerity, “other.”

You feel your stomach doing back flips, the giddiness bubbling inside you threatening to explode but instead of jumping for joy like you want to, you merely squeeze his hand and offer him a grin in return.  

The moment is over as soon as it begins as Yoongi looks down at your feet before frowning and turning back towards where the two of you had first met tonight.

“Where are your shoes? Why did you take them off?”

You giggle, “I was about to wade into the river to cool off, I don’t normally keep my shoes on while I do that.”

His frown falters a bit when you giggle but, he halts your movements none the less, “You could step on something, it’s dark out here...”

“It’s not that dark.” You insist, turning your body so you are face to face with him, “I walk through this area all the time.”

Yoongi feels his breath hitch as the proximity between the two of you lessens. He isn’t prepared for the feelings swirling inside of him or the ease of access he now has to your forehead, your cheeks, the tip of your nose, your lips...

He would love nothing more than to place his mouth on every feature.

On every inch.

He clears his throat, “Fine. We’ll walk slower then so, at least if you step on something- it won’t be so hard.”

His solution makes you laugh again but it also pleases you.

You like that he doesn’t try to force his opinion on you and that he trusts your judgement.

“Fair enough.” You concede, reluctantly turning so the walk can continue, “How was the bread today by the way? I added a bit more garlic this time...”

He nods immediately, patting his stomach, “It was delicious. This batch was completely mauled by my fleet- my little brother in particular shoved at least 10 pieces into his mouth.” He chuckles, shaking his head, “I’m convinced that boy is part animal or something, he certainly behaves like one.”

Giggling, you mimic him and shake your head as well, “Or he just really likes bread. I would probably behave like an animal if I were deprived of carbs of 6 months out of the year.”

“It’s more like 10 months out of the year.” He corrects, “We only return to the kingdom during blizzard season or if one of us is injured.”

Your eyes widen, “Really? I thought members of the Queen’s army rotate every six months. You only take a break for two months out of the year?”

Yoongi chuckles at your surprise, “Yes-” He nods, “We are considered uh- special forces. The Queens employ us full time. The fleet I oversee of the Royal Army- they rotate quite often but the seven of us operate March through December.”

Kissing your teeth, you can’t help the genuine look of concern on your face, “How long have you been doing this?”

His eyes narrow, “Hm- I think I’m going on ten years now...yeah. I joined when I was 18.” He nods in agreement with himself, “This is my last year of service.”

Your heart jumps to your throat, “Really?!” The volume of your voice climbs dangerously high and it causes Yoongi to laugh, his eyes widening.

“Does that excite you?”

“I mean-” You bite your lip, trying to figure out if his retirement is something you should celebrate, “is it something you’re looking forward to?”

He smirks, eyes glinting with amusement, “It is.”

“Then yes,” You decide, stopping the pace of your walk so you can turn towards him, “it does excite me.”

His smirk never falters, whilst his free hand moves to trace down the length of your arm, seeking the grasp of your fingers. His touch leaves a trail of fire on your flesh, your other hand eagerly intertwining with his.  

“Oh? Why does it excite you?”  

The tone of his voice lightens; it’s playful and almost a little taunting as he leans in towards your face.

“Um-” You clear your throat, stepping closer to him so that your toes are almost touching his, “Because maybe, I would get to see you more. If you were retired...”

Yoongi’s eyes soften, the back of his thumb brushing over your knuckles, “Hm. So, she’d like to see me more...”

“I really would.” You confirm, the look in his eye offering you some confidence in your next move.  

Swallowing back your nerves, you take the hand you’re currently holding and guide them to your hips.

Without a word, you place your freed hands on the ball of his shoulders, sliding them inwards towards the base of his neck. As the two of you make eye contact, you feel his grip on your hips tighten, his big hands feeling the flesh there for the first time. The movement of your fingers causes him swallow, the Adams apple bobbing in his throat whilst his tongue pokes out to wet his lips, only making them more inviting.  

The seam of your top would make it so easy for him to slip his fingers beneath it to feel your skin for real but, instead he merely flexes his fingers just enough for the tips of them to press into your body.  

In your own attempt to explore his skin, your fingertips brush the soft skin at the junction between the base of his throat and his shoulder, your palms lying flat on his collar bones.

He lets out a shaky breath, a small chuckle leaving his lips as he forces his eyes away from yours.

“You’re making this very difficult...” Yoongi murmurs.

You slow your motions on him, “I’m making what difficult?”

He’s still looking away, but his hands squeeze your hips, anchoring them in place to stop them from wandering as he wishes to.

“I’m trying to court you properly but, now you’ve gone and put my hands on you...” He smirks, his feline-like eyes darting back to yours, “you aren’t even giving me a chance here.”

His accusatory tone causes you to giggle, your fingers inching closer to brush against the hair at the nape of his neck, “Who’s to say what’s proper?”

“Societal decorum, your parents, my parents, our friends- “ He chuckles, glancing up towards the sky, “whatever god is in my head right now, shaming me for the thoughts I’m having.”

“Any god who shames you for your desires is no god of mine...and besides,” You breathe, leaning up towards his lips, “we’re the only ones who get to decide what’s proper for us.”

He sighs, his breath close enough to wisp across your mouth, the proximity intoxicating.

“I should have known the day I met you that you make your own rules...” He smirks, the need to press his lips against yours nearly unbearable. He nods to you then, raising his brows, “What do you think is proper for us in this moment? Since we’ve already disregarded decency.”  

Another giggle leaves your lips and without thinking you move the rest of the way so that your mouth lingers just in front of his own, “I think it’s proper for you to kiss me- for the first time, underneath the full moon.”

At your boldness his heavy gaze widens slightly as a sharp breath leaves his lips before pushes them onto you.

Immediately, lightening shoots through the center of your spine, exploding into your heart, your hands on his shoulders tightening significantly, his own grip on your hips following suit.

Your bodies press together as your lips tuck in and move against each other. The tip of your nose rubs unceremoniously on the bridge of his own, the kiss deepening with a mutual sigh between the two of you.  

Your chest is pushing against the linen of his shirt, your body coming to life as he begins walking you backwards towards the large willow tree standing proudly near the river. When your back presses against the rough bark, you take the opportunity to slide your nails up his neck and into his hair, careful not to ruin the state of his ponytail too much. Your touch elicits a very faint groan from him, his teeth nibbling against your bottom lip.

With the increase of your breathing, you press him closer to you, pushing your breasts into him, hoping that he will take the hint and continue touching you. His hands merely squeeze at your hips, holding you steady against his body whilst his tongue brushes your bottom lip.

He’s requesting entrance into your mouth, which you gladly grant, parting your lips and sliding your own tongue along his. The two of you play in each others mouths, it’s slow and almost messy and it causes your fingers to tighten in his hair, wishing desperately that you could run your fingers through it properly.

Yoongi’s heart feels as though it's going to give out from all the sensations he’s feeling, his resolve weakening by the second, all thoughts of decorum leaving his conscious.  

The bark of the tree is digging into your back, but you can barely feel it; your mind is too full of Yoongi. His hands begin inching up your torso, almost massaging his way up, his grasp tightening further as he resists the urge to move his hips.  

But he can already feel the blood pooling between his legs, and he knows that things are already going too far so when you slide your leg up to hitch it around his waist, he finally pulls away.  

Breathing heavily, the two of you rest your foreheads on one another, lust swirling in the air around you.

“Why did you stop?” You pout, pecking at his lips.

Yoongi chuckles into your lips, leaning away slightly to press a kiss to your nose and then your forehead and as his mouth lingers there, he responds, “I have to maintain some level of decency- I am a man of the royal family.”

Like a spoiled child, you slump back against the tree, your lips still pouted as your hands return to his shoulders, “The royal family is miles away...besides, we were just kissing.”

Yoongi’s raspy laugh makes you want to kiss him even more while the fondness in his gaze makes you want to grin like an idiot.

“Your little suggestion to kiss me was turning into something else entirely and you know that.” He accuses playfully, bringing a thumb over your cheek.

“Were you not enjoying it?” You point out, dancing your fingers over his chest and he rolls his eyes, catching your hand in his own.

“You know very well that I was enjoying it.” He smirks, glancing down between the two of you at his semi-hard length pushing against his linen pants, “I am a man of my word however and I meant what I said about courting you properly.”

The sight of his length removes all moisture from your mouth, most of it seeming to reallocate between your legs.

“But you’re-!” You almost whine, wanting nothing more than to resume your earlier encounter.

He chuckles once more, bringing your fingers to his lips, “I am.” He concedes, dragging his lips over the back of your knuckles, “your lips are lethal.”

Your focus hones in on the wet lips currently pressing kisses against your hand but, your stubborn nature wishes to press the issue further.

“Then why did you stop?”

Yoongi smirks, “Because it’s not proper to have each other now, even when I want you as bad as I do-” He kisses between the junction of your pointer and middle finger, brows raising at the sight of your pouted lips, “Why are you still pouting?”

“Because...” You sigh, licking your lips, “I already told you I didn’t care what others thought I-”

Yoongi chuckles again but this time, the sound is darker, “Y/N, when I tell you that we should wait, it isn’t because of the opinions of others it’s because...” He pauses, licking his tongue between your fingers, sending a shock wave between your thighs, “I couldn’t possibly pleasure you properly against this tree...”

You let out shaky breath, leaning into him once more, “I believe you could.”

He grins, kissing over the spot he just licked, returning your hand to his shoulder, “Oh do you now?”

“Mhm.” You hum, giggling as he pinches your hips, your fingers clasping behind his neck.

He leans over, kissing your lips gently before pulling back to secure your gaze, “Be patient my sweet girl...” His voice drops to a whisper, “...and let our fairytale develop a little longer.”

You can’t help but embrace him then, tucking your face into his neck, “I’m sorry if I’m so eager...I’ve just never felt this way before.”

He chuckles warmly, easing you away from the trees so he can rub your back, “Please don’t be sorry. This is new territory for me as well. We can navigate it together ok? My fleet has to move on in a few weeks but, it will only be a few months until I can make it back to you. After that- we'll have all the time in the world.”

Nodding, you press a kiss to his neck, tightening the embrace, not wanting to let go, “Why do you have to be such an accomplished solider General Min? Mediocrity could have really worked in your favor...”

He laughs again, the sound warming you from the inside out, “Terribly sorry mam. I had no anticipation of being captivated by a smart-mouthed apothecary during a refuel stop.”

“Oh so I’ve captivated you have I?” You tease, your fingers walking slowly across his back.

He smiles, turning his head to kiss the side of your head, “To put it very lightly yes- yes you have.”

Captivated was the word Namjoon had used and it truly was the perfect word.  

Absolutely perfect.

[echoes-of-the-clockwork]

Book Two: Sapphire (Ignis x Reader) Chapter VIII

Deeper into the Nebulawood, the royal retinue was greeted by more fallen trees. They littered the sides of the somewhat narrow path while some proved to be obstacles blocking their way. They crawled over a few trees to proceed forward and eventually enter a clearing. A pack of voretooths who were nearby ran past them as they fled from the other direction.

"Whoa! Look at 'em go!" Prompto chanted as he watched the creatures flee without noticing them. He was amazed at seeing such dangerous beasts flee without fighting. "So, exactly how big are behemoths?"

"Roughly around 70 feet in size and typically weigh around 174 ton," (Y/n) answered.

"Oh, uh...that's a lot bigger than I thought. Maybe we should rethink this..."

"What, you chickening out?" Gladio inquired. "Don't understand why. You've fought big daemons before."

"Yeah, but none of them are able to shove me in their mouth!" Prompto wandered over towards the spirit amongst them. "Maybe you could scare it away, (Y/n)?"

"My spiritual form is small and fragile. How do you expect me to scare away a beast that's twenty times bigger than me?" She retorted.

"Aren't there some beasts out there that are frightened by smaller ones?"

"And you think a behemoth is one of them?"

"We could always test that theory."

She combed her (h/c) locks over her shoulders. "I'll think about it."

Continuing to make their way through the Nebulawood, the area becomes blanketed with mist. They soon make their way to an abandoned stone structure with an opening and passage through which they can crouch. Noctis begins to lead the way the moment they hear growling again.

"Noct!" Gladio grabs the prince and gently pulls him back before stepping forward. He turned back and held out his hand to indicate that he would take point himself instead of Noctis. The brute crouched down and entered the passage. He slowly and quietly makes his way forward a few feet, then turns back to motion for the others to follow. Noctis was the next to enter the passage followed by Ignis, (Y/n), and Prompto. As they crept forward, they could hear the occasional growl from the beast they were hunting.

They didn't make it halfway through the passage before Gladio stopped and turned to face them. "Hold up!" He ceased moving, eyes drifting upward towards one of the many holes in the metal structure that roofed the passageway.

With a growl, Deadeye comes into view through holes in the structure. Its right horn was missing and right eye was foggy. The skin around the eye was mauled and only a horrendous scar was left behind. Although it was blind on its right side, its nose wriggled as it sniffed the air. (Y/n) winced when realizing the beast smelt them, but couldn't see them due to its blindness in its right eye. Her heart was beginning to race due to her anxiety rising. She feared the behemoth would find them in the small crawlspace and crush them with its large form. She didn't realize she was holding her breath until she exhaled the moment the beast seemed to overlook their hiding spot and walk away.

With Deadeye gone for the moment, Gladio looks at his friends, holds up a finger, closes his right eye, and taps it with his finger. ""Deadeye"-the name says it all."

At the sudden sensation of feeling a hand over hers, (Y/n) looked down and saw she had unconsciously latched onto the sleeve of Ignis' suit jacket. He had placed his hand on hers when her grip tightened. Mumbling a small apology, she released his jacket. She then peered past the advisor to meet Gladio's gaze. "The beast knows something's amiss. We best make haste before it finds us here."

The shield nodded in agreement and motioned for them to follow. "Let's move."

A few seconds later, Deadeye wandered back into view. It was still sniffing the air and searching the area for them. (Y/n) kept the beast in her sights as they crawled forward. She tried to even her breathing and calm her racing heart, but it was difficult since the threat was only a few feet away.

It was only mere seconds later when Deadeye suddenly detected their presence. (Y/n) saw the beast heading straight for their hiding spot and lowered her body closer to the ground. The boys did the same just as the behemoth shoved its snout into the narrow passageway through one of the larger holes in the metal structure. It releases a thunderous roar, earning a shriek from Prompto.

(Y/n) prayed to the Astrals the behemoth would give up, but she gasped when it started to claw at the passageway. Noctis held out his hand to summon his sword so he could pierce the beast's snout, but he lowered his hand when hearing a familiar squeak from behind him. Looking over his shoulder, he saw (Y/n) had transformed and was crawling past Ignis. He wasn't sure what she was planning until she hopped on his back and flew out of one of the holes in the structure.

Deadeye took notice of her small form and ceased clawing at the passageway. It chased after her and they both disappeared into the fog. None of the boys could believe what she just did. They quickly exited the passageway and searched for any signs of the behemoth or the skvader.

"I-I can't believe (Y/n) just saved our skins," Prompto muttered in shock. "I hope she's okay."

"Her minute form will prove to be an advantage against a behemoth. So too will her flying ability. The beast can only jump to a certain height," Ignis stated. Although appearing calm on the surface, he was worried about her. She was a strong fighter, but even she had her limits just like the rest of them.

"We can't let her have all the fun," Noctis said. "Let's find this thing and kill it."

"It's weak on the right-no eye, no horn," Gladio responded.

"We'll stay in range until we can exploit its blind spot," the tactician added. "Let's do hope (Y/n) wears our target down before we have to engage."

Meanwhile in another part of the Nebulawood, the skvader was flying through the fog in an attempt to escape Deadeye. She was able to dodge its claws left and right before darting off deeper into the dense mist. The guardian was becoming exhausted from the persistent behemoth and took shelter in one of the trees it had yet to destroy. She curled her small form atop a branch to hide her presence. Her sapphire eyes radiated through the fog, but they weren't visible to the beast as it prowled the foggy area below.

From her perch, (Y/n) had a perfect view of Deadeye. She watched it search the fog for her, scraping its claws against some of the rock formations in the misty clearing. Its nose wriggled like earlier and she knew it was trying to sniff her out. However, it wasn't able to locate her. During their previous chase, she had spread her scent around the area to make herself harder to detect.

The behemoth roared in frustration before giving up the search. (Y/n) lifted her head and stood up, watching the beast closely as it seemed to head in a certain direction. Soaring from tree to tree, she followed Deadeye from a safe distance. When it hopped over a large rock formation and left the area, she continued her pursuit.

Exiting the foggy area, the skvader was more than joyous to see the sun again. The warm rays heated her white and black fur as she soared through the sky.

Coming across the skeletal ruins of what looked to be once a building, she watched Deadeye hop onto a cliff and lay down. It closed its eyes and seemed to fall asleep. Perching on top of the ruins, she stared at the behemoth as it slept. She figured this was its den and looked around the area. Oil drums lied around the ruins and a tattered windmill loomed across the way. Crawling through the ruins, she peered across the way and saw the boys on a cliffside. She didn't hesitate to fly over to them. Landing in front of them near the cliff, she reverted back to being human. "Deadeye's asleep. I suggest we attack."

"Nice to see you, too," Noctis sarcastically replied.

"At least you didn't become a snack and leave us to be the main course," Gladio added.

"Guess we can mark off behemoth from our list, huh?" Prompto smiled innocently at the girl.

She crossed her arms with a wry smile. "Your question from earlier is why I did what I did. Even though behemoths aren't scared of smaller creatures, they sure enjoy chasing them."

"We do appreciate what you did, (Y/n)," Ignis said. "Your quick wit prevented us from being mangled."

"I wouldn't have let any of us become chew toys."

Gladio rolled his shoulder, popping it in the process. "All right, time to take this thing down. Any ideas?"

"I do have one." (Y/n) turned her back to the boys and gestures to the oil drums scattered about below. "We could lure Deadeye to the oil drums and ignite them. That should do some heavy damage and there's more than one we can utilize."

"Lemme guess: you want me to trigger them," Noctis said.

"You've the elements at your disposal. Use those magic flasks you filled up a couple days ago."

"So do you."

"My specialty is ice. That won't help ignite oil."

Noctis looked away, slightly embarrassed that he forgot she didn't know any fire spells. Although guardians had direct connections to the mana of the world and could wield all the elements, they usually only mastered one type. "Right..." He scratched the back of his head.

"The rest of us will do our best to draw Deadeye to the oil drums. You just focus on igniting them."

"And what if we run out of oil drums before we've killed it?"

"Then we do it the old-fashion way: attack the beast head-on."

"Can't argue with that plan," Gladio commented.

"And it's the only one we have," Prompto added.

"I do believe it will suffice," Ignis spoke up.

"Then let's get this over with," Noctis sighed tiredly.

Entering Deadeye's lair, the royal retinue set the guardian's plan into motion. Noctis readied the magic flasks while the other boys summoned their weapons. (Y/n) held up her hand and conjured a large, sharp icicle. She flung it at the behemoth's head and rudely awoke it from its nap. Smirking, she watched as the beast roared and hopped down from its perch. Taking a few steps back, she put some distance between her and Deadeye in order for Noctis to ignite the first oil drum right underneath its belly. He aimed the flask at the oil drum and threw it the moment the beast charged forward.

The oil drum exploded and set Deadeye ablaze. The beast roared, jumping around wildly. It rammed into the second oil drum and the flames from its body ignited it, resulting in its body to be engulfed in fire.

"Aw, yeah! Two-for-one special!" Prompto cheered.

The group repeated the process over and over again until there were no more oil drums. Deadeye's skin was severely burned and large blisters were scattered across its body. Its other eyes was bloodied and the beast could no longer see anything. Its movements were slow and labored as it clung to the small life it had left in it. It tried to fight, but it was useless. It could only weakly swing its claws and tail a few more times before its body tipped over. It slammed into the ruins, knocking a few stone loose.

Seeing no point in dragging out Deadeye's suffering any longer, (Y/n) raised her hand and conjured a bow and a single arrow made from nothing but ice. She aimed the sharp, icy tip of the arrow at the space between the behemoth's eyes. Steadying her aim, she fired the arrow. It hit its mark and killed the beast. Its body slid down the side of the ruins before slamming against the ground, completely lifeless.

"Whoa!" Prompto ran over to the girl. His eyes examined the bow. "I knew you could make a sword from ice, but a bow too? That's pretty cool! Can you make anything else?"

(Y/n) glances at the boy's pistol before morphing the bow into an exact copy. "I can do guns, too."

Prompto, with her permission, took the ice pistol. He compared it to his and noticed the details were all there. He raised it into the air and pulled the trigger. He blinked in surprise when a bullet exited the barrel. "It even shoots bullets?!"

"That is what a gun does."

"But it's made of ice!"

"And so are the bullets."

Prompto dispelled his real pistol and pretended to aim with the ice handgun. He cackled as he continued to be in awe at her creation. Gladio, who still had his greatsword in hand, looked toward her. "You a magician?"

"It's a simple ice spell I like to call mimicry. With just enough concentration, I can fabricate an exact copy of a weapon using only ice," she explained. "Some functions are limited, but I mainly only use swords and bows. I can make guns, daggers, javelins, halberds... Pretty much any weapon as long as I have memorized a schematic."

Noctis watched the exuberant Prompto wave the ice pistol around. "I don't think you're getting that back."

"No need. It'll melt soon enough."

"Now then, shall we return to Wiz and inform him of Deadeye's vanquishing?" Ignis asked.

"Yes, please!" Prompto shouted. "Then we can ride the chocobos!"

Leaving the Nebulawood, the group returned to Wiz Chocobo Post. They spoke to the man himself and told him of Deadeye's defeat. Now, they could rent chocobos whenever they wanted. The moment Wiz told them the birds were at their disposal, Prompto grabbed Noctis and dragged him over to the pens. At the blonde's bubbly command, he rented five chocobos.

At Prompto's begging, they headed to the racetrack. Gladio, Ignis, and (Y/n) remained on the sidelines and watched Prompto and Noctis race. The two boys standing on either side of the spirit were making bets on who would win. The shield betted on the marksman while the advisor placed his gil on the prince.

When Noctis was the victor, Gladio forked over a small amount of gil to Ignis. (Y/n) glances between the two in confusion. "What's the point of betting when all our funds are combined?"

"Don't ruin the fun for us, munchkin," Gladio remarked. She shook her head with an eye roll.

"Hey, (Y/n)!" Noctis shouted, grabbing her attention. "You're next!"

She blinked owlishly. "Excuse me?"

"I wanna race you next!"

She really didn't want to race, but decided to indulge the prince. "All right." Her chocobo, which had (f/c) feathers, trotted over to the starting line as she joined Noctis. Prompto left with a defeated pout plastered on his face and stood with Gladio and Ignis.

As the girl was mounting her chocobo, the brute elbowed Ignis. "A thousand gil says Prince Charmless wins again."

"Truly a thoughtless bet," Ignis replied. "(Y/n) will be the victor."

"You just sayin' that because you're head-over-heels for her?"

"I place 3,000 gil on her due to her handling of a chocobo to be more precise than that of Noct."

The shield arched a brow. "And how do you know that?"

"By simply examining them," the advisor coolly replied. "(Y/n) has a sturdier grip and straight posture, allowing her to control her chocobo more effectively. On the other hand, Noct is slouched over and handles the rein of his bird loosely, which will result in less control."

"You're on, Iggy. We'll see who the victor will be and tell if your observation really is true. Who's got your bet, blondie?"

Prompto hummed in curiosity as he thought about Ignis' words. "I wanna bet on Noct, but maybe I should put some money down on (Y/n) instead. Iggy sounds really confident she'll win. I think I'll put 1,500 gil on (Y/n)."

Ignis slightly smirked. "Then the wager is set."

The three boys watched as the race between Noctis and (Y/n) began. The prince immediately took the lead and was ahead during the entire first lap, but he lost his lead in the middle of the second one. He tried to overtake the girl, but he couldn't. In the end, she was victorious.

Gladio was shocked at the outcome while Prompto cheered. Ignis' smirk festered as he adjusted his glasses. "I do believe Prompto and I are the victors of this wager, Gladio."

"Damn..." The brute mumbled, handing over a thousand gil. "Girl's got skill, I'll give her that."

After a couple more races and bets, they left the racetrack. Seeing as it was becoming nighttime, they decided to use some of the funds they earned from the hunt to rent the caravan. Noctis and Prompto were inside the trailer playing King's Knight on their phones. Gladio was sitting at one of the many tables located around the outpost reading his book. Ignis and (Y/n) were sitting at the table located outside the caravan, chatting away.

When they both fell silent after talking for nearly an hour straight, she asked him a question. "Iggy, are you familiar with a place called Costlemark?"

"If memory serves me, there is an ancient structure in the Duscae region known as the Costlemark Tower. It is rumored to be remnants of the ancient civilization known as Solheim," he answered. "What spurred such a question, (Y/n)?"

"On our way to Deadeye's den, I heard the voice again. Only a few words were clear and one of them was Costlemark."

"Is this something you wish to pursue?"

She nodded her head. "Yes. I know it's careless, but something tells me I need to listen."

"If you believe it so, then I shan't question it. I will discuss matters with the others on the morrow."

She smiled gently at him. "Thank you, Iggy."

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[sanoiro]

Lucifer Meta Post - Tether Me

I have seen and read many meta flying around regarding this song but none seemed to satisfy me. On the contrary this is a song that downright confused me since I watched the episode, therefore the circulating explanations or meta given were not enough for me. I’ll not say they are without merit, they are just not clicking the right way with my mindset of all things Lucifer. 

Since August I’ve wondered why they didn’t reverse the songs between 5x05 and 5x06 meaning why they didn’t use ‘This Year’s Love’ for the ending of 5x06? It would have made sense I thought albeit it would also be cheesy. On the other hand, the commitment that was expressed and the step taken in 5x05 while Chloe comes to her realisation that they chose each other makes that song quite perfect. Especially as it echoes the 3x23 scene and kiss. 

In 5x05 Chloe manages to take down the killer on her own - albeit with Amenadiel’s help - in the same way she uncovered the killer in 3x23 with Charlotte’s aid. Both episodes then end with the party who comes to a groundbreaking realisation to seek the other. In 3x23 Lucifer comes to Chloe while in 5x05 Chloe goes to the Penthouse to find Lucifer.  

“If you do not need me you are working with me all this time because you want to. Because you choose to. You did choose me.” - Lucifer 3x23

Then Lucifer goes on, that he was procrastinating to face the present as he was afraid of his feelings, that Chloe wanted him because she had seen only certain sides of him and if she knew all of him she would run. Yes, Chloe did ran but from Season 4 we see that the same issue happens with Chloe and it also manifests spectacularly in 5x03 and in 5x05. 

Is she a mere human that one day Lucifer will realise she is not worth it? The fact she is a miracle is that the only thing of value she has? Is the rest of her that insignificant that her existence and her relationship with Lucifer is based on the grounds she was designed for him, meaning that there will be another toy or distraction in the near or far future for him? Toys after all are meant to be played, used to promote growth and knowledge and sooner than later are disposed in storage or a bin. Learning experiences are not meant to be revisited when sucessful and as a parent Chloe knows that. 

All the above are relevant believe me. 

And now back in 5x05. 

“His theory is that you choose to be vulnerable around me.[...] If you choose to be vulnerable around me then I chose to be vulnerable around you.” - Chloe 5x05

Now this is what leads us to the use of “Tether Me” as the chosen song in the sex scene of 5x06. 

As a form of habit I always go back to AGN a fic, not really worth your time, but since day one I knew how it would end. Lucifer in the comics #75 (last one) - of the first and original series - says that “Perhaps this is the ultimate freedom, eh Dream Lord? The freedom to leave.” 

In a twist of words and due to life experiences I thought to turn the tables a bit there and say that the ultimate freedom sometimes is the freedom to stay. 

Lucifer as a series has explored free will and freedom a lot and we were always so fixated with the concept that freedom is a synonym of breaking free, of getting away, running. But since S2 when Lucifer in 2x14 came back to Chloe despite knowing she was a miracle and directly connected to him, in his opinion, we see that freedom in the end was not of him being liberated by this manipulation but setting his own terms into the situation by deciding to stay. 

The same thing happened with Chloe in S4. She stayed in Lucifer’s life despite his relationship with Eve and his internal and external Devilness and as we saw guilt manifestation. So now we can take the concept of “Tether Me” on a whole new level. Shall we? 

First of all. Tether Me. 

The definition here is to practically bind someone. But they are bound out of will and so the freedom they seek is through the commitment they make on their own terms, time and ways to express it. 

The physical connection as has been said before surely, is not just about sex. Many opt to forget or disregard the fact that Lucifer stayed celibate for thousands of years in Hell and then when he came on Earth he never sought a companion as he had done every time he visited Earth for millennia. Not even when he believed his time on Earth was limited and his relationship with Chloe impossible to progress. 

The fact the above is always brushed aside bothers me as it shows not just Lucifer’s emotional state but also his maturity and commitment on an ‘idea’ and a person. For the first time his coping mechanism for an emotional attachment through carnal gratification is rejected because the alternative is more fulfilling even though the consummation on any level up to 5x05, is deemed improbable. 

Lucifer emotionally and spiritually, as we may say, like Chloe since the end of Season 4 have, on a basic level, bound themselves to the person they love. They willingly surrendered not the option of being with someone else but their whole entity to the one they loved. 

But many poets have praised love stories that were never consummated or were led to tragic endings like Romeo and Juliet as they brought forward a commitment that lacked the difficulties and grind of what may come next. It is why such love stories, see the Titanic one, are viewed as pure and everlasting. That was Deckerstar before 5x06. 

In 5x06 the bounding each character experienced as an individual on the mode of surviving external pressures and grief, now turns to a new entity of two joined parts. 

As Lucifer and Chloe decide to take the leap we listen to the singer singing “Tether Me”. 

On a very simple way we can say that at that moment both characters stake their claim and on a cognitive BDMS level they allow the other to vine them. Do not mistake it as surrendering. They both equally maintain their identity but they commit to something that started since Season 1. 

In Season 1, Lucifer asked if Chloe trusted him and she said yes. Now in 5x06 we see that trust blooming. 

As characters, Chloe and Lucifer could never commit. Chloe in Season 1 lamented over the fact that Dan was not committed to his family as he was too preoccupied with his job but throughout the seasons we see that her commitment had to do with loosing her ground and allowing to be patronised in many ways. She believed that allowing her partners to take control over some aspects of her life, like with Dan in 3x11 where he was an authoritative/mentoring figure and then Marcus in the same way she was committing to that relationship. It is also interesting how she stopped doing that once Lucifer entered her life. 

Lucifer told her to trust her gut, he didn’t question her authority although he did go his way when he wanted to. When Chloe was backsteping for him he didn’t walk over that space albeit for several reasons. Her silly attitude in 2x12 was met with mistrust while in 4x08 he was truthful on how he was tired of being placed in a pedestal or be expected to act a certain way. 

So from Chloe’s side, her relationship with Lucifer in 5x05 finally reaches the point where as a person she does not back down to accommodate him and that is cherished because there is a difference between settling things as couple and letting others degrade you for a relationship to work. It is also why Deckerstar in a way it’s a healthy relationship despite all its ups and downs. 

Lucifer on the other hand as we have seen since Season 1 he has been very assertive to his sexual relationships but in the kisses of 2x11 and 3x23 he let Chloe set the pace. The only time he initiated a kiss due to the circumstances it was in 4x10. Now in 5x05 we see both of them start their decision to progress their relationship to a sexual one. 

For a being that constantly fled any form of commitment and abhorred notions of surrendering power and control it is interesting to see his choices in 5x06. First of all if we go back to his sexual history we shall see for example how his lovers in 2x14, were all describing a person who took control in the bedroom as he knew their desires and became a tool to fulfill them. You cannot have an emotional connection to a tool as you may very well know hence why none of Lucifer’s lovers ever looked back or would ever be willing to kill for him. Additionally in 3x13, it’s interesting of how Lucifer exhibits himself as a giver to the Korean mob boss. A tragic self-awareness if we want to be honest. 

We can say that Lucifer is mainly a pleaser but at the same time he rebels when he is enforced or constricted by something. It is why like the song describes (Pull me back, out of my body I'm tied to my limbs They're spinning me out of control) being bound to yourself gives out this sense of vibration, where you want to be set free but also cocooned into a blanket of security. Because sometimes it’s not about setting a person open like a starfish but making sure to sooth their violent tremors and let them rest than be painfully rigid. 

Now let’s follow the rest of the lyrics. 

In the corners of my mind Long forgotten, lost in time Turning stones to look for light It's dark out here in the dead night

Always in my perception of things, the theory of relativity is prominent here in my opinion. It’s about time and how when we are alone time seems unclear, passing but it creates a still numbness, overthinking and we are getting lost in a self-constructed mind maze. Basically what has happened to our characters througout the seasons. While they doubt themselves, trying to find a meaning behind each other’s reactions and decisions and even the world they live in. 

The ‘light’ part, for me at least, it’s a synonym of time. Of change and change often brings hope and progress. I mean progress is based on the concept that time exists and is passing so everything can only move forward whether they like it or not, but where can you find light and thus time when you are in a state of self-isolation from your wants and feelings? 

So in 5x06 we see Lucifer and Chloe stretching out only to let the other in. Their awareness of freedom is having the other in their arms, to emotionally and physically consume them until there is no clear indication they were once two separate beings, but careful we are talking about their emotional connection. As I have aforementioned, they retain their attributes as individuals and as we see in 5x07 they word and respect each other for that. About what is shared and how a relationship is not the end of ones self but neither the surrendering of everything that makes you unique. 

Change is never easy and never slowly paced and it is why the line of the lyrics: 

For a moment, I was gone. Speed of light right to the red dawn. 

For me it’s when the clock starts ticking from both ends without that meaning it’s a countdown. Mornings are set to be the set of new beginnings after all but they all require a sacrifice, a red one in preference. Hence the: 

In this space, do I belong?

Breaking insecurities is hard as one set of them is replaced by yet another and it is a great song if we get it under that scope. That a relationship and particularly sex is not the resolving of everything but the transcription of yet another set of adventures down the road. 

And the: 

It's dark out here in my own thoughts. 

Will remain a part of Lucifer’s theme in P2 but also in Season 6 so no idea if they went that far in the meta level but knowing your partner needs helps and there will be dark spells, after all bad spells it’s part of life. There is no easy fix as you will see. No matter what will be resolved, a troubled mind will remain one. The question is how you will tackle the difficulties and the bad days or moments. That is all. And the difficult moments will also be the good moments. Weird thinking for some I know but we cannot expect life, even a made up one to be perfect or even easy. 

So Tether Me.

Bind me in a safe place alongside you, without the possibility to harm you or myself, to be free because I’m with you and the perception of how grand a world is, it’s but a matter of debate and time. 

[gilmesc1]

Sacrificing my remaining braincells to the void

Ok friends, you requested it, you awaited it, I’ve cleaned out my ears to remove the melted remains of my brain, here we go, we’re doing this, tell my partner I love them. It’s time...for syscourse analysis.

So this is a very bare bones run through of syscourse, it’s as basic as it gets and if need be I’ll focus on components of it after I recover.

So, syscourse is literally the words system+discourse. Bet you guys never saw that coming. 20 seconds into this fucking mess and we already have a major plot twist. And I know what you guys are thinking. A bunch of traumatized people not getting along? Another plot twist!

Jesus I better tone down the sarcasm.

Anyways, what the fuck even has to happen to have syscourse, apparently two types of systems. Yes friends, two types of systems, and I’m not talking DID and OSDD (which are really quite similar).

Our players are traumagenic systems and endogenic systems. Traumagenic systems are systems that formed out of trauma, like DID and OSDD systems. Naturally this plunks me down in the traumagenic catagory, thanks to my big fucking mess of trauma. So we got that down, moving on to endogenic.

So an endogenic system is a system that supposedly split without trauma. No idea where the word endo comes from. Or like, what the fuck endo even means as a word like trauma. (Maybe I want to endo myself after reading a bunch of syscourse? Ok, ok that was bad.)

The biggest issue once you get down to it is who is the Real System tm, and do other systems belong in each other’s tags. This is the part where I’d smoothly bring you all to a good starting point, but *insert deity here* help me, there isn’t one.

Syscourse seems to be older than mankind itself mongrels, because I cannot find where it started and who the tags belonged to first. So for those of you who like to visualize, picture two dogs chasing each other’s tails, running in a circle, and that is syscourse.

So let’s break it down more. I, and I’m sure many others, flocked to tumblr to find others who experience what I do, that being traumagenic system stuff. Again, we have trauma that results in our system’s creation. And that’s all fine and good, sure not everyone gets along with each other but for the most part all us systems are vibing and sharing memes and posts.

Now like I said, to be an endogenic system you are a system without trauma, and to me this is a little confusing. Brains aren’t made to be multiple and I’m the clusterfuck I am because of trauma, but to just magically thanos snap a system into existence? That I have a harder time wrapping my mind around.

There are a lot of examples of endo systems, but the ones I’ll be looking at today are tulpas. What is a tulpa? Well at first I thought it was a ghost thingy that you get by thinking about it, (supernatural anyone?) but now that I look into it, it’s apparently a Tibetan religious practice.

So we have science vs spirituality. This spells disaster already for syscourse.

So to get a better idea of tulpas than I could give you, I’d recommend looking at tumblr posts on tulpas because I’m in sarcasm mode and not really in a position to educate about those. Long story short it’s a thought process where you can essentially create a second being that is similar to an alter, as it exists in a headspace and can switch in.

Now I said headspace and switch in on purpose, because that is where the issue lies. Endos and traumagenics fight about words like that, and who they belonged to first. Can an endo use the words system, fronting, ect when they are scientific words specifically for DID or OSDD, or can traumagenics use the word multiplicity when it supposedly came from tulpamancy?

Side note: Guys do not lecture me on words, I’m trying to give examples, sorry but I don’t have my words for traumagenics dictionary on me rn, that’s in my other hoodie.

The majority of day to day syscourse is endos and traumagenics “infiltrating” each other’s tags and safe spaces, and ruining everyone’s day. From what I have seen, many traumagenics do not want endos to interact with them, and personally I see a few good reasons for this.

1, mental illness is not a trend and DID and OSDD are very very rough to live with. With there currently being a lack of scientific evidence on the existence of tulpas, I understand how it can seem that some are cashing in on the “DID hype” and giving off this romanticized view of being a system.

2. People with DID might be looking for specific DID info, and having to strain through irrelevant topics to them might be heavily stressful.

3. We’re traumatized and random things can set us off. This is the internet and I think everyone is at least a little toxic, and both sides have said shit to each other, but when people get triggered its easy to lose control. Not an excuse, tis merely a fact.

I’ve seen endos post things like “all systems are valid” and it’s a nice sentiment, in my heart of hearts behind my black toxic drama loving one, I’d like it if systems could just get along, but on a topic as complex as mental illness I don’t think that’ll happen.

I’ve seen both sides say things that were really uncalled for, and there’s no right or wrong answer overall in a fight like this. Naturally I’m team traumagenic but as for whether or not I feel like endos are valid or not, jury’s still out on that.

Hear me out, I have heard the theory that endo systems can help deal with trauma despite not being formed by trauma, and I’ve met a few people irl and seen things that confused me. Maybe they were traumagenic systems who didn’t know their trauma, idk.

I really don’t want drama. I’m sure systems on both sides are good people but like I said, the internet is toxic. (btw I love you mutuals, you are all good people)

In my humble opinion syscourse is stupid. I think there definitely should be a discussion about endos and traumagenics, but like can we talk like adults and not be like “WE’RE ALL VALID UWUUUU” with a string of toxicity behind it.

That level of back and forth is dizzying and irritating, and quite honestly I don’t want to deal with it. This is me trying to be neutral and give an overview, but that’s hard as I am traumagenic myself, and I don’t really understand the other side.

That’s why I’m not going to say I reject endos. I need to figure out more for myself and since this does leak into my personal life i want to do it carefully. I’m open to polite discussions, but I really want to keep out of syscourse drama.

Another side note: Something I think that is especially stupid is the amount of outrage over users saying they dni with endos. It’s a choice for that person and it should be respected. Like how I have personal reasons for keeping discussion open, others have personal reason for closing it. That should be respected and not ranted about. There are thousands of tumblrs, find one that isn’t dni and leave those people alone.

Additionally, if any endos do want to talk I’d prefer if you dm me, as I want to keep my blog traumagenic focused, both for my followers and for me, out of respect for those who don’t want any endogenic content and for me so i don’t wear out my three brain cells (I’m accepting name ideas for them)

To end this, I don’t want drama, nothing makes it easier for me to cave to my vices then drama, and syscourse is so freaking tiring that it would be like rolling around like sandpaper to get involved.

So there it is, my useless, sarcastic post on syscourse. Let’s see how many followers I lose, and if need be I can look into more stuff about syscourse since this is an overview.

Again this was supposed to be neutral and not necessarily all of my views, I’ll get more personal on it later maybe, but tbh I’m too fucking tired for that rn. Chronic illness, hell yeah.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed, I’m impressed I wrote it all, have a good day guys, I have to go to a party while feeling like my body is leading a rebellion.

I don’t even like people, why am I going XD

But hey shout out to social distancing, I’m using my personal space bubble and NO ONE can stop me.

Ok, time to give the braincells a rest. See you guys

[vajranam]

The Path Of Freedom

Even with all The outward Signs of success And bravado There was no contentment. And for eight long years Enlightenment was for me, A beautiful theory of which I could describe eloquently. But in truth, None of us believed it.

Within the walls of this So-called monastery, Hiding behind robes, Pawing beads, and mumbling prayers… Were criminals, drunkards, opium smokers, thieves, Thugs, slanderers, gamblers, liars, bullies, Whore-buyers, pimps, and sex offenders… And I grimaced At the one in the mirror, For I saw all of this And more In myself. But, For me at least, All this would change One seemingly normal day While Studying out on the balcony… Looking once more Over some tired old texts that were As Lifeless and uninspired as I was. Old books, Like old scholars… Are rarely useful Other than to be put On a shelf by their possessors’ For the bragging rights Of owning them. I owned the books, Nalanda owned me And we were both fakes: Bad forgeries Of some original, Pristine Idea That somehow loses its purity When made to stand still In paper, brick, And skin. But on this day, You could say, The natural order Of things broke down. I had the first of many Mystic Visions, An encounter with Pure Awareness, Or as others believe A meaningless encounter With a crazy person, that Made me crazy. Perhaps, It was both. But, As I sat there studying, Half reading And half mind wandering aimlessly Suddenly, the text disappeared in shadow. The balcony, the chairs, myself, And even the air itself was immersed In darkness. Turning to see The cause of the eclipse, Behind me stood, and caused no small startle, A most horrifying looking old woman!

It was an uncommon sight To see a woman in a monastery of monks Much less one so Ghastly as to even blacken The Sun! Yet, Even though her terrifying shadow Fell over everything, I saw in vivid detail All of her unwholesome and Grotesque features at once! Her eyes were red, blood-shot and bulging, Her hair, a greasy stringy mess sitting atop A huge forehead, her face was cracked, wrinkled skin, Her nose, shriveled and almost Nonexistent. Her ears were a large, lumpy Mass, her jaws were crooked and covered in Yellow stubble, her mouth distorted and pulled to the left, Her teeth, missing, twisted, and rotten, Her back, bent and humped, Her feet, bare, red and puffy, skin flaky and scaly With yellow, long toenails that were filthy and She stank of death and cabbage. Leaning forward on her cane She spoke, “What are you studying there, boy?” For a second or two No words would come To my mouth. My mind Was reeling around trying To land on a logical answer To what I was seeing and hearing And at the same Time trying to formulate A reply to her question. Finally, I sputtered: “I…I…uh… I study books on grammar, Epistemology, spiritual precepts, and logic.” “Oh good,” she said, “do you understand the words or What they are pointing to?” I took a guess, “The Words.” With this answer, The old woman let out A shriek of delight! She began to holler And dance about Swinging her cane In the air and laughing Wildly. Thinking that I could Make her even happier I shouted, “Yes! And I understand What the words are pointing To as well!” Openly That you only Understand the words you read But now you break my heart By lying, Saying that you Have any idea of their meaning?” At first, Anger rose up like fire in my belly Toward this woman! I quickly thought Of thrashing her like a dog And even throwing her off the balcony! Did she not know, I was the Great Scholar, Naropa, The man who defeated 100 challengers in debate, And was begged by the King and all the rest To be Abbott of this Noble Institution because of My supreme intellect?

But the anger subsided into the Truthful resignation that, She was right. This time It was me leaning forward Asking the questions, “Lady, tell me then please,” I said weakly. “Who does know the meaning?” The woman slowly rose To her feet with the help Of her cane She looked at me and began Smiling again: “You must see my brother about this, He knows the Way…Go find him now, And beg him To show you.” And with these words, I found myself Starring directly

Into the sun. I turned my face quickly And used my hand to shield My eyes. There was no longer Shadow Nor woman there. And the only thing worthy Of mention was, At a great distance, A rainbow barely Visible. Suddenly, Feeling again the text I squeezed So tightly In my hand I relaxed a bit And sat back in my chair, The features of the woman, Very strongly imprinted On my mind, like parts of A dream you remember when awakening.

Her rotten teeth, twisted face, And body broken by time… All of her features, All reminders Of the Human condition, My condition. “What I saw, should not be.” I thought. “A sick, tired body…our only reward For a lifetime of struggle.” It was my vanity, It was my Fear, Raising resistance To an unwanted, unwelcome, And undeniable Fact, “I’m growing older, Sicker, and going to die here… A fake monk, a phony playing The role of Abbott.” Today a great scholar, Tomorrow forgotten. “Poor old feeble fellow, I heard he did something great once, no?

Perhaps it was someone else I forget”, they will say this of me. Not all these years Of study Nor a thousand years Of the same Will ever Dispel even one iota Of my dissatisfaction With Life….I simply know too much. Looking down at the text I saw it all very clearly now… A lifeless book Being held in a lifeless hand. I, Naropa, Thought of those That wrote these ancient texts, And wondered, “Were they like me… All ink And no Bliss?” And there’s not one left

Still breathing To tell me if these be truths In fact Or merely a groping attempt At recognition and immortality. All at once I felt the weight Of a life wasted in memorizing Unimportant facts And accumulating Impermanent, useless knowledge. Slowly, And reverently I put the text back in its cloth case, Tied it with a small ribbon, and placed It softly back into my bag. And somewhere between The sitting and standing position, I abandoned everything That I thought I was.

Nothing was left, Save the desire to find this Woman’s brother And make him my Guru. Leaving behind my books And belongings I announced to Nalanda That I was no longer their Abbott But was leaving the world For the homeless life, Seeking One in whom Dwells the Truth. At this news, All of Nalanda Was plunged into despair. (So it seemed to my ego, anyway.) Five hundred scholars, The King, And his Royal Ministers all Assembled to beg me Reconsider. (As I remember it.) They said that it was Against the Buddha’s Dharma

To forsake the Sangha, the community. They said that it was Against the Buddha’s Dharma To forsake my position as “Expounder Of The Teachings.” They even said that it was Against the Buddha himself To cast aside the robes for The Wandering, homeless life. And yet, My face set like flint… I, Naropa Did walk out of the Eastern Gates With only these words On my lips: “Whatever is born will die, Whatever is joined will part. How can we find the Path Of Freedom and immortality In that which only builds up Karma?

I know all the scriptures which are as vast As the sea, All five branches of learning have I mastered With grammar and epistemology, Yet without a competent Guru The fire of my craving will not die.”

Naropa

[aperfecttimeforscreaming]

AN EXCHANGE OF MEAT

Late valentines day ZADR drabble, extremely nsfw, takes place in the #izspacetrash universe NSFW 18+ Warning: Petplay, Zussy, Choking, Power play, Power theft, Over-stimulation, flirtatious bullying 

Back on Irk, coupling is illegal. It’s a big deal for humans because they can’t name a rock without forming an emotional attachment, for Irkens however, there’s no reason for the law to even be in place. As a species we have evolved past the need to interact with others. Every individual in the empire has the potential to be a sturdy, self sustaining island unto themselves. We’re built better than every sentient stain in all the known everything!! We have YET to encounter anything that even compares to our size and MIGHT. The last fertile cluster of Irkens died out a thousand decades ago. Every irken is cloned and easily replaced if not functioning at maximum capacity.

So, the desire to do more than indulge yourself is...low. There’s no reason to involve another irken in the matters of ones…..self congratulation.The practice of an EMOTIONAL and spiritual coupling fell out of favor long before we learned to control our natural impulses. 

If this is all true (and it is), how can I feel so much for the vicious neanderthal that calls me his? Dib was working on one of his drones as I sat in the dark pocket of the lower bunk bed, the bed itself built into the wall of a home on wheels. Dibs white rectangular fat assed Arr Vee was parked behind a dunky doughnuts so that we could stay out of the sightline of main roads and siphon power to recharge the vehicles battery. See, the outside of Dibs roaming home looks like any other shitty old caravan. In fact, it is more like Dib’s own mobile base. The battered shell outside the chrome and black and blue innards of the crisp sterile mobile lab are no more than a clever disguise. An infuriatingly smart trick. It’s a trick wrapped around stolen Irken technology and it’s to our collective benefit that everything stays hidden. It’s more comfortable being a prisoner, knowing that Dib has become secretive of his most prized belongings. Legs crossed, back pressed to the wall, chin in hand I was thinking my thoughts. 

My hand drifted down my neck to trace the soft top edge of the lined matte black metal collar locked around my neck. I felt at the difference in texture between the soft barely there fuzz on my skin and the smooth cool metal. It had been locked there for thirty one days, ten hours, six minuets and eleven seconds. It’s some fluke of nature that Dib is as smart as he is. At one point in my career as an invader I theorized that as  humans grew taller, their brain shrunk to make up for the increase in body mass. With Dibs lineage, this is less so. As an adult he is only more cunning, more dangerous, more cloyingly obsessive, more driven. He neglects his sleep to work. He works with the single minded diligence of an Irken researcher. His drive to excel in his field transcends the greasy smelly differences between our kinds. The efficiency he commands my own technology with rivals that of a practiced PAK technician. He’s studied the things I left behind on earth for 14 of his years, and it shows. With a single steady bare claw I traced the shape of the emblem embossed onto my collar tag. Dibs skull shaped symbol, displayed in shiny silver across the front of my neck at all times. An unnecessary humiliation that marks me as one of many stolen treasures. I feel its shape on the bare pad of my finger and silently kiss my teeth, stung by the reality that Dib thought of it first. If the world was just, if things made sense, things would have been flipped, things should have been different. If I really am the more advanced life form, I have no excuse for his subjugation. Thirty one days, ten hours, seven minutes and forty fucking seconds.

From my dark hideaway I could see him, hunched over his desk with the posture of a scoliosis king. A bright white desk light illuminates the front of him and reflects off the cobalt blue shine of his protective eyewear. The blue strips of emergency LED light that mark out the floor area catch the underside of his form, and stripe the wrinkles of his sloppy mechanics smock in toxic blue slivers. Through the gap in the curtains in front of him, I could make out a flickering yellow street light. Dibs sigh broke through the silence. He set down his tool and leaned back in his chair, away from the open shell of the drone he’d been repairing. I watched him drag a long fingered skeletal hand back through his greasy weird hair, and watched the unruly sprig of bone and black people fur spring back up as his hand passed it. “You’re quiet.” The human announced, obviously. Before he could twist the rotating chair around to face me I let my hand fall into my lap and folded both hands neatly together. “My brain is loud.” It needed no explanation, but Dib had demanded the cause. Slouched back in his chair, I watched him copy how I had my fingers folded into each other. His eyebrows arched high on his forehead and crinkled his sweaty brow. “You’re thinking? You’re capable of thought?” He’d lick his loathsome incisors and grin. “Damn, I’ll have to correct my notes. I thought the metal parasite on your back did all that for you.” “IT’S NOT A PARASITE! I TOLD YOU! It’s as ME as the rest of ME!” The corners of Dibs eyes crinkled with delight as he watched me retrace the fact. “MY PAK stores the thoughts of my brain jelly- it’s not responsible for my depthy, nuanced original thoughts. It’s all to my benefit. Your simple animal mind can’t BEGIN to perceive the archives of information, understanding and theorizing, locked away between my two magnificent thought centers.” On my knees at the side of the bed, I pointed to my skull, illustrating the thing Dib wished to understand but could never fully unravel. He reached up to peel the lenses of the goggles from the hollows of his eye sockets. As Dib deftly replaced them with the large circular frames of his glasses, he spat noise at me. “You’ve beaten that dead horse to a pulp, Zim. I don’t think your PAK is any different than a circuit board hardwired to the brain of a roach. You’re just as animal as I am. Only, your issues stem from being part evil cyborg, and mine stem from trauma.” Sunny as a blistering summers day, he grinned at me. Smugness radiates from him like pulsar blips, and my innards are assaulted by tight gripping trembles. I tense my core muscles to keep my tymbal from rattling at the slightest provocation. With my antenna pitched slightly forwards, I can smell the pheromones on his sweat. I crossed my arms over my chest, raised my chin, curled my lip at him to flash fangs. “Tch. Zim is no creature. You’re the animal here. You have the technology to advance yourselves into a race of space faring monstrosities, and yet all you want to occupy yourselves with is the pursuit of earthly pleasure. Your kind construct elaborate rituals just to try and rutt against each other. It could be so much simpler!!!” Dib scratched his chin, nonplussed. “Yeah, I never really got all that either. We do have dating apps and that can simplify things if you don’t account for catfishing, and people who straight up lie about themselves just to get their dick wet.” I grimaced at the mental image of a wet human phallus. I re-contextualized the image in my head and imagined the organ as Dibs. I bit the inside of my cheek. “Sooooo… what? As you get older you stop exchanging meats, and instead swap false personal information?” Dib laughed, quick and dry, brimming with unearned superiority. “Oh, fuck- what you mean like what we did back in grade school?” He sat up, leaned in closer to me. Elbows folded on his knees he hunched closer. I could smell his breath on my antenna. Coffee and sugar and bacteria filled my senses and the stalks flicked quickly backwards at the olfactory intrusion. “Yeah I don’t really know why we did that. I have a theory it’s all metaphorical, some kind of mind manipulation game the government was playing with kids to get them to associate “love” with “flesh”. I mean, you know what “meat” alludes to, right?” My face screwed up as I searched my brain for obvious answers. “MMHhn. HHHMN. Pain? Obviously, pain. Emotional...badness.Maybe hormone tampering. Disease?” Dib was already getting out his phone, snickering to himself as he does when he knows something I do not. I kept going. “Death? Blood? Salt? Disgust? The inevitability of the cycle of consumption? How you’re all doomed to be slaughtered by a greater predatory force?” “No. No- what?” He cocked an eyebrow as he looked back up at me. I wanted to rip the piercing out of it. “No. Shut up and look at these.” Dib held out his portable telephone slab to me and on it I saw a digital gallery of meat related memes. The phrase “beat my meat” was prevalent. There were photos of hammers pounding sickly off grey slabs of deceased pig muscle, and a man dusting a sprinkling of salt or spice over a carved rib of bovine corpse.

My head pulled back, giving me the appearance of multiple chins of disgust. My gut churned as I turned my head away. “Why would you show me those??! THEY’RE REVOLTING!!”  

Dib frowned, irritated, and put his phone away. “The “meat” those memes are talking about? It references human JUNK- y’know, genitalia? The memes aren’t talking about actual dead farm animals. And, that’s what I’m saying.” He put his large warm hand on my shoulder and continued, sure to hold my eye contact as he put the curl of his thick broad thumb against my cloth covered collar bone. I tensed my guts to keep my tymbal from rattling. “The government has skool children trade literal meat, so we get the idea early on that we’re supposed to exchange our "meat" with people we're attracted to. So that way, we learn to breed, and the men in power get more workers and soldiers and grease for the wheels of their self destructing machine.” My eyes flicked to look at his hand- the long pale olive fingers, the beaten fight scarred knuckles. My gaze then returned to Dibs humorless expression. “That’s a… problem?” Dib groaned, he rolled his eyes, he took his hand off my shoulder. 

It slid down to my hip, his free hand mirrored the motion  and I was lifted up from the bed and onto my humans lap. He held me there and growled at me in frustration. “YEAh! Zim! It’s a problem! If people are going to have sex it should be their own choice to do so, it isn’t something we should be culturally brainwashed into accepting! And we don’t NEED to do it! Some people are asexual- some people don’t want children and-” Dib rambled, on and on, laying out the injustices of an archaic capitalist system reliant on the breeding whims of its workers. I couldn’t help but wonder how much of the argument was fueled by Dibs xenophilic leanings and revulsion towards his own kind. I gave less than a quarter of a shit about the very political tangent my human was going off on, but I did like how Dibs lap made for a nice sitting surface, and how the heat of his angry body felt against my skin. As Dib spoke I smoothed out the front of his damp black wife beater absentmindedly, my expression unmoved. As my hand rested in the center of Dibs chest, I patted him, I then mock pouted at him. “Poor Dib, how he’s been rejected by his own kind at every turn. How hard it must’ve been for you! Brainwashed into needing the fuck, harassed by the need for fuck with noooo options for how to obtain it!!”

That got him to glare at me, and my spine tingled for it. I grinned as he countered; “You’re missing the point.” And I kept going. “Addicted to the unknown feeling he can never hope to attain, his vile monster meat might have shriveled up without the wetness- like an unwatered flower! Like a rotting length of carrot! Like a bundle of seaweed on a beach, growing drier and nastier the longer it’s left alone, collecting nothing but mold and botfly eggs and-” Dib grabbed me by the throat. His hand closed around my throat. He gave a warning squeeze as he told me to shut up and I peeped in response. 

Lowly, my tymbal rattled. 

Dibs narrowed angry eyes softened as he caught the surprised chirp of arousal. 

The words on my tongue stalled at the tight curling of his long fingers as they overlapped my neck.

“Even if that was how things worked, I’m not at risk of that anymore, am I?” 

Dib looked at me with a gaze that implored an answer, and I shrugged coyly. As he frowned and squeezed harder I gagged, my stomach fluttered and a chirp rattled out of me far clearer than the first. 

"Mhhn. That's what I thought."

Dib hummed, his human purr was deep and infuriating. He used his free hand to shift my placement on his long thigh, so that I straddled his thigh as he choked me. My eyes began to water as he raised up his knee and gently bounced my vent against his leg. 

There is nothing playmates can do for eachother that a squidgyblit cannot also achieve the end goal of. However, being choked while your nemesis grinds your pleasure center against his leg hits differently. 

I moaned with a grimace. I scowled at him as he drew another choked out squirm from my body. Unpleasant as the sensation of constriction around my throat was, we both knew the short term strangulation wouldn't kill me. It was a comfortable routine and Dib continued his gloating games. 

"You think you can resist all this? You think you can resist the urge to get absolutely wrecked- by someone who's going to lovingly put all your pieces back together when he's done? You need me as bad as I need you, you fucking moron."

He’s wrong. I don’t need him. But, his games are so amusing, they’re so entertaining. It’s such a thrill to be obsessed over. If he ever knew that, it would all go to his head. As bad as he already was, there was ample room for things to get worse. Dib pressed his fingers up underneath my jaw and held my mouth shut. My growl came out as a choking sound, I tried to open my mouth wider and he put his free hand on my shoulder as a threat. “Shhh. You don’t need to talk right now. Why don’t you show me what you want?” I glared, I tried to hack out a rebuttal, but he didn’t want that. Pink heat spread across the skin of my face plate, I chirped and ground my slick vent slowly against the black jean fabric of his thigh.  In doing so, I inspired an unhinged smile to pull across his gaunt snout.

He released my throat and my posture bent, towards him as I gasped. My throat opened back up, and my PAK hummed softly as it began to replenish its oxygen reserves.

Dib patted my warm cheek with his hand. “That’s a good boy.” He mocked softly. I was well within my right to bite him. His hands settled on the bone of my hips, I watched his eyes pass over my head and point towards the bunk behind me. The curious gentle twitching of my antenna caught the heat of his words as they stood on end, and I lifted my chin to glare up at him. “Is that really what your brain was being so “loud” over? You’re still angry about our arrangement?” My lip twitched, it’s downwards arch could not have been more dramatic. “HOW could I not be mad about it? You know better than ANYONE what a powerful beacon of mayhem my existence is- that I can be controlled by someone as misshapen and weasley as you is a blistering amount of shame for Zim- full offense.” As I spoke his fingers laid over the small of my back, he rubbed along my tense lower spine and his gentle ministrations forced my aggressively postured antenna to lower. “Oh, full offense taken. But I know you’re happy about it. Deep down, somewhere in your cold blooded brain, there’s a tiny Zim just glowing over how it feels to be fully appreciated. You’re a hideously evil space terror, I can’t take that away from you by loving you. And I wouldn’t want to.” The heat in my face wouldn’t stop, the fluttering sickly feeling in my guts wouldn’t go away. Like knotted strings being unwound or spider web being gently tugged by a trapped fruit fly, the vibrations of his words unwound my nerves. I had to look away from him to speak, the weight of his useless human affection was too heavy to bare the brunt of head on. It was blasphemy that something a horny ugly alien said to me could mean more than the approval of any tallest. “MMMhhNNG. Stop making words.” I growled politely. Dib chuckled without malice, he curled in over me to press his lips to the crest of my skull. “You love serving me.” “Phheh. Zim loves nothing.” “You love what I’ve done to you, Zim. And I can prove it.” Dib lifted me up to move us onto the bunk bed, and bumped the front of his proportionally massive head against the shelf of the top bunk. “Fuck-ow,” “HAH!”

I reached up to hit the button on the bottom of the shelf, and the top bunk folded up against the wall behind it. As the mechanical components hissed, Dib rubbed his five head. “Yeah? That’s funny? You think your master getting brain damage is just hilarious don’t you?”

“If my “master” (I used my fingers to make mock air quotes) is dumb enough to turn his brain to garbage when we aren’t even under attack, he’s not showing mastery over anything, is he?” Dib dropped me out of his arms and onto the bed, I landed with a yelp of surprise though the impact came painlessly. “HEY!”

With his teeth clenched and his eyes narrowed Dibs hands flew over my body, grabbing and groping, pulling off boots and leggings, striping me of the new uniform I’d been given, replacing dark blue cloth with an expanse of green skin. There was ample evidence to suggest Dibs need was as urgent as my own, from his feverish actions to the telltale tenting at the front of his tight emo boy pants. He needed me. I gave a quick shiver twitch at the feeling of air on my exposed skin, and hissed at him. He pinned my chest down with one hand, and sneered at me as the other cupped over my pelvis. “Your standards are way too fucking high for someone who screws up constantly.” I grinned at him with challenging eyes as my legs folded up and opened. “Where would your challenge be if I lowered them, Dib?” His middle finger split the wet slit of my vent open. He traced the sensitive pink interior and I had no choice but to draw in an afflicted breath. The finger slid deeper, he brushed the base of my wriggling dwarf ovipositor, and the distraction sent my antenna fully back. “You, crave conquest.” I crooned, distracted. Sensations continued. I felt the shivers of pleasure in the back of my teeth, my tymbal rattled with quick twitching clicks each time his middle finger teased the inch length of my pink wiggly hot button. “You don’t know what I crave, Zim.” I cackled, light and airy and I gripped the blankets beside my face. I bit my lip and looked at him. His thumb slid into my slit and he gently pinched his fingers around my “dick”. I gasped sharply. I kicked out a heel as he pressed firmly enough to make me whine. I could not help how my eyes wanted to roll back into my skull at the continued friction, but I swear I caught the reddening of his cheeks before vision became meaningless. I do know. I chirped, I moaned, I rubbed my cheek into the soft blankets stained with floral detergent as the tingling feeling of goodness rolled from my loins up the rest of my body. I felt good, and I made it LOOK good. Dib likes to watch me writhe, and in return he  rubbed over and over, again and again he rubbed, till it seemed I was breaching a new level of tingly bliss with every passing second. “But, I know what you want, don’t I?” I groaned in disagreement, his fingers stalled on my sex, then his thumb rubbed small twitching strokes at it’s base. I trembled all over at the teasing agitation, and breathed out hard. “MHn, you’ve… got AN idea, of it.” Dibs motions were less practiced as he set out to release his tube steak from it’s denim cage, but he didn’t move his hand from the source of my sultry keening sounds. He wouldn’t, I had been so SO fucking good to him. Letting him work uninterrupted without a single complaint of boredom. I hadn’t tried to attack him in DAYS. It was a personal best record at the time. I was overdue for a reward.

“UHM, EXCUSE YOU??” Dib took his hand out of my vent and I sat bolt upright on my elbows, glaring at him in a sex flushed daze as I watched him inch the clothing down his nearly non-existent ass. “I WAS BUSY. Who said you could STOP?”

He pushed me back down, grabbed my leg and sharply fixed himself between my open thighs. “I’m not stopping, you know I’m not stopping you shrill shitty bedbug.” It spiraled into more routine. In the act of copulation I could always count on the sensation of his fingers sliding into my orifice to pull it’s tight walls steadily open. I could feel all the bumps and ridges, the rough calluses, the finger pad curling around my core and pulling delicious sensation from the thing inside me that made my guts twitch and tremble and rattle like a sack of angry crickets. It didn’t take much. I didn’t need long, and he wasn’t willing to hold off from indulging in the ambrosial clutch of a wanting Irken tunnel. I groaned as he withdrew three of his fingers from me, pulling with them a thin strand of pinkish slick that broke and collapsed over my cleft. I trembled, I hissed in disgust with myself as Dib aligned the head of his extraterrestrial shaft with it’s destination. As he looked down on me, he commanded. “Beg.” “What?” My head cocked, one antenna lifted while the other lowered, my hand reached up to wipe the pearling sweat from my brow. “Really???” He ground his length into the gooey mess he’d left my vent in, I grit my teeth as my tymbal rumbled. “Yeah. Really Zim.” “Mhgghh.” Eyes closed I tensed as the friction of dick on dick action swayed my compliance. “ Plleeeeeaaaase.” “Please what?~” I tried to scowl at Dibs goading, but his grinding made me bite my own tongue. “You have to say it, pet. I won’t give it to you unless you ask properly.” The nickname is a scorning stinging wound that burbles and pops like a pollution born wound, it feels like a hot sudden burn, it catches me the way his fingers do when they clamp around my most intimate points. In the most pathetic of tones and volumes, I answer my mate; “Please, please fill me with your cum, master Dib.” I was rewarded by a hand coming to stroke across my skull. He cradled the dome of my head and caught one of my antenna stalks between his fingers. With the same care he gave my cock, he gently strokes the black hairs to reward me. “Good boy. Good bug.” When the rutting commences sense tumbles out the window in a broken screeching fury, like an escaped chimp on meth, like a rat on fire making a break for water. I lose my fucking mind to the reactions of my body. The vehicle rocks under us with the power of Dibs mighty  thrusts.He fills me so deeply with his oversized ovipositor, I can feel his pulsing want bulging against the skin of my stomach at full hilt. When he finally spills in me I am so wound up that I have already hit my climax twice over. I snarl, I lean into him and the lips I have put to his salty skin part so I can taste his sweat on my tongue. My jaws open wider, and as Dib grunts, at the height of his peak, I bite hard enough to puncture his fragile skin on the edge of my teeth. The red taste of metal is smeared over my lips, on my tongue, over the pasty tan palette of his shoulder muscle. Dib hisses air in through his teeth. “You couldn’t- you couldn’t help yourself, could you?” His panting breath stalls his words, a red tinted smile spread across my fuck drunk face. I licked my lips as I replied, and watched a thin trail of human red meet up with the black fabric of his shirt and diffuse into it. 

“No, no I couldn’t.” I hummed back at him. In the state of high endorphine swing I am not fully myself. Everything was brighter, lighter, more exciting. A hazy happy drugged exisence takes hold of me and sways me to Dibs whims. As he pulls out of me, he sighs with a shivering buzz. “Then, you’re not done yet.” In a matter of minutes Dib is redressed while I remain naked, wrists and ankles shackled to the four rectangular points of the bunk via metal shackles that the walls of the Arr Vee spat out. I was only just beginning to come out of my fogy mental state when my human retrieved a black blunt vibration wand from a drawer of tormenting devices. Over the following hour I grew more and more delirious as Dib wrung my body out for increasingly mind crushing orgasms. Things stopped having meaning, Dibs taunting words lost their sense, and I rattled straight through to my bones. That I could not pull my limbs in towards myself and protect my body from the assault of sensation had at one point been disquieting, but then and there, it encouraged me to let go of my resistance. I had let go of my fruitless delusions, I had given myself up to Dib, and Dib did not stop till I was crying with the intensity of multiple peaks.

It made up for everything else that had happened. The blinding beacon of his smothering affections absorbed me in it’s garish embrace as he unshackled me from the walls. He cleaned me, he held me in a folded blanket  till the shaking of my overwhelmed body stopped. My prickly insults bounced off him like harmless pebbles of sand.  The Dib stroked over my antenna, groomed them with the sex scented oils of his fingers, the Arr Vee reaked of the smell of our sins. Accepting Dibs terms of affection is illegal, but I’m defective anyways, aren’t I?

[sneakerdoodle]

On Second Citadel and unity

It was interesting to me that, after making Junoverse a very poignant gender utopia (and general lgbt-utopia, too), Kabert went ahead and made their second storyline so heavily centered around bigotry and discrimination (dealing with topics of ableism, mysogyny, homophobia). now, obviosuly, Junoverse is not even remotely free of inequality, and as far as the mentioned topics are handled this utopia is not disability-friendly, with prosthetics not being readily available with no charge, which, like many other things, strips people of their autonomy, turns them into a rich man’s plaything. But here inequality is arguably explored from the point of exploitation of one human being by another, of abuse of power (interpersonal and social-scale). Whereas Second Citadel opens with an episode about two knights - a disabled one and a woman one - both of whom struggled for similar reasons, so there is supposedly little power imbalance here. And yet they do not see eye to eye, even more so, one of them furthers the other’s discrimination. We can speculate that that’s Sir Caroline’s effort to fit in - strengthen the sense of her hard-earned belonging by othering someone who never got that right to belong. Which doesn’t make it any less infuriating and damaging, but sets the tone of the story very well. There is no strong thriving off the weak. There are just people infinitely rejecting one another on the basis of their differences, often under the weight of their own rejection.

The topic of ostracization and discrimination is tackled in almost every arc of SC, but the idea of othering extends beyond it. The central conflict, the ongoing war is between monsters and humans - and while we’re more familiar with the human side of it, while we may learn more about the history of their conflict and who wronged whom first and worst, for now we’ve seen both humans and monsters express deep disgust for each other and one another’s way of living. And then the same happens on a smaller scale, within one species: we see the mutual disdain between Northerners and Southerners. Sir Caroline is different not only as a woman but as a foreigner; the Cinderclasp episode made it far too clear that the attitude to foreigners in the South is no better. 

And all of that unravels against the backdrop of pretty phrases about unity that get repeated over and over. “Strength in Unity”. “Two in unity, simple, strong”. I believe those are not instruments of irony, however, but keys to the central message, echoes of this societies’ past and - hopefully - foreshadowing of their future.

Sir Caroline twists the meaning of that unity in order to keep her authority:

ANGELO: Sir Caroline, I really don't think-- CAROLINE: What is the primary edict of our Citadel, Sir Angelo? ANGELO: Strength in unity. Of course. CAROLINE: And the sooner you all remember that, the safer humanity will be in these Northern Wilds. Hypocrites. The lot of you. Unified only when it’s convenient. No better than monsters in that way: greed governs all, and everyone just does what they want to get what they want. If you just listened to authority, real authority, you might actually be safe.

And that happens to highlight what unity is not: giving up one’s autonomy and approach and unique competence to fit into someone else’s model of desired reality. 

Here Damien’s words about perspectives come into play. However labored and uncomfortable they were, showing his inability to not fixate on what separates others from him, they are important as a piece of the meta puzzle: they make us think of inherent value of different experiences.

DAMIEN: My kind, kind friend. I agree that it is a shame that we cannot trust these men. They would be valuable allies, as Sir Caroline was – for moving through the world as she has, in a life quite different from ours, has clearly gifted her with ways of thinking that you and I would never come to. ANGELO: Very true, very true. DAMIEN: And so I am certain that given Marc’s...situation, he too must have a perspective of great value in our mission. But the simple fact is that he cannot be trusted.

The importance of these lines is backed up in Lady of the Lake, when Caroline is instructed to use specific characteristics of her subordinates and turn them into strength that would aid the mission. We are told over and over that true unity is in embracing our differences, valuing them and working together to make these differences work in everyone’s favour. 

There is something to be said about quite careless exploitation of Damien’s neurodivergency of course, but that is once again the warped verison of true unity, showing what unity is not, but also simultaneously giving us some idea of its potential. At the core, behind Sir Caroline’s personal errors, the message is kinder, broader. We are told again and again that the importance of the unqiue approach, unique way of thought, unique operation of our minds can enrich our shared experience and cooperation beyond measure.

So when later on Sir Caroline instead tries to suffocate any challenge to her authority, any alternative point of view, it comes as the biggest whiplash.

And of course, when discussing the monster-human antagonism in this vein, the Moonlit Hermit arc gives some truly invaluable material. Rilla and Arum’s interactions are strongly based on the differences of their approach to the world, with Rilla’s being a rational one and Arum operating on what can be called intuition, spiritual sense and probably instinct. He despises attempts to rationalize the free broad flow of the universal energy.

And what we see is two of them coming together, sharing their views of the world and finding something useful, fascinating, beautiful in the point of view that seemed so unthinkable before. That culminates in the truly breathtaking scene of their discussion of the nature of music, whether it’s magic or math:

RILLA: I mean..why can’t it be both? ARUM: Nonsense. RILLA: No, I mean...maybe that’s what makes music special. It uses these predictable scales and measures and combines them with some unpredictable, something-- ARUM: Magic. And what comes out isn’t really either. It’s...more.

“It’s more”. Can’t overstate how hard this hits. And the parallel between this theory and Rilla and Arum’s relationship is more than on the nose, proving to us once again that the idea of unifying our different experiences and perspectives as something incredibly valuable, something that creates something new, rich, priceless, that is more than just a sum of the two, is central to the narrative.

What is interesting to me in the Moonlit Hermit arc is the distinction that is made between the monsters and the humans. Humans are supposedly rational while monsters speak of magic and the Universe - what a fun narrative is that! Monstrous spirituality... And then later on we have Damien raging at his saint, yelling “It is only monsters who listen to their heart above all!” - but apparently it is not. 

The new season offered some helpful context to that, specifically - the Thought Stream. Obviously referencing the Tarot, it has four suites resembling the Minor Arcana while what can be called the Major Arcana is not a part of the deck usually but something that appears unpredictably (specifically: Olala’s card that does not belong to the Wilds, Wastes, Frosts or Mirrors suit). 

The four Tarot suits (Swords, Cups, Wands and Pentacles) represent different areas of our life, separated: Intellect, Emotion, Spirituality/Creativity and the Material. Mind, Heart, Spirit and Body.

The four suits also correspond with the four elements. And Water is the one corresponding with Heart, with our emotions. I do not think it to be a coincidence that Saint Damien - the one encouraging his follower to listen to his heart, teaching him tranquility i.e. not losing oneself in the stream of emotion, the one teaching how to let one’s heart guide not stir - has water and the waves as his symbol.

So if Damien is Heart, Rilla is definitely Mind: she is analytical, a determined problem solver. I believe Arum represents the Wands: the Spirit and the fire - and that it is a symbol connected to monsters’ society in general. 

Wands suit deals with passionate creation, with realizing one’s vision, bringing something into the world. That seems in line with the monstrous philosophy in general. They talk of one’s place decided by the Universe, they say one is justified in their actions as long as they truly do what they want, follow where their passion guides them. There is quite a bit of hypocrisy there as we can see in the Spiral Sage arc, the monster society may just be keeping the platitudes while giving in to the power of the strongest no matter the Universe’s place for the weak - but the ideal is still there, and it is one Arum seems to follow wholeheartedly. (Hence his interpretation of Damien seemingly abandoning his path as a lack of character.)

The same idea - one’s place in the Universe - is brought up again in the first part of “The Fool in the Garden of Death”, showing this belief spreads beyond monsters’ society, into the Western Wastes. None of the elements, be it Heart or Spirit, are strictly one species’; however, we’re dealing with different cultures and ways of life people are most accustomed to, prioritizing different aspects of life. And we’re being shown that maybe engaging with each other is what those cultures are supposed to do.

The Thought Stream’s deck is made up of four suits corresponding with four ends of the world, four parts of it. Where in Tarot we have aspects in Thought Stream we have places. This reinforces the concept of different aspects of life, different ways of approaching it, corresponding with specific societies. 

Each of the suits is given an identity, but all of them make up one deck.

After all, what’s one aspect of a being without all the rest? Reign of just one’s Mind, Heart, Spirit or Body - how long can it last before turning destructive?

True strength is in balance of different elements - in unity that recognizes the value of each of them.

I have a theory that the ideals of the Second Citadel are the forgotten and revamped mottos of the beings of Fort Terminus: “two in unity” being not two partners but two worlds, monster and human, coming together to create something that is more, something new and powerful and full of potential. Capable of building something as impressive as the Bridge. I also have a theory that the Bridge is a parallel to the Tower of Babel. Which brings us to the idea of a divided world unable to see past the differences between societies, and through that losing the power that unity used to give it.

Showing the world where difference is shunned and leads to ostracism, where people that come from different places fail to acknowledge each other’s humanity and refuse to embrace their differences, where two species fail to accept the other’s way of living and deny the enemy their humanity/monstrosity, the Second Citadel storyline is offering a greater value as an endgoal: embracing difference and diversity, seeing strength in what sets us apart from each other, and recognizing that we all complete one another, like the four aspects of our own being, like four pillars upon which the sky rests. Deny one single pillar’s importance and wait for it to come crashing down on you. It says: to know true strength, we should welcome any and all experience, all of the unique perspectives, celebrate the differences that make our shared existence so much richer and make us so much more capable to deal with challenges of life. Strength in unity - not in uniformity.

[random2908]

Ok, it's time for my crack Locked Tomb interpretation that I've promised... the two people I've been reading these books with. I will say first, the theory isn't itself a crack theory--in its general form I actually stand by it as a serious prediction. But some of the textual evidence I'm going to use is way out there, so don’t take this too seriously--I certainly don’t. Spoilers for Gideon the Ninth and Harrow the Ninth behind the cut. Sorry it’s long.

Ok, first, the theory, simply put: I think Alecto/AL is a Resurrection Beast. Personally, I found this "insight" fairly uncontroversial the moment the thought occurred to me, but one of my two friends who've been reading these books with me disagrees on the basic evidence; the other friend has embraced it wholeheartedly, though. So, ymmv, I guess.

The basic evidence starts with: well, what the hell else could she be? She's not human. The older Lyctors call her a monster. There is a missing Resurrection Beast: nine were born, five were killed, three are loose, and the narrative actually calls attention to this numeric discrepancy while glossing others (e.g. the number of Lyctors, which does eventually get explained). John presumably can't just kill Resurrection Beasts himself, or he would have (maybe?? who the hell even knows what his abilities or grand plan are at this point). There aren't really other monsters that have been presented other than revenants (of which Resurrection Beasts are the biggest) and heralds (which are spiritually part of Resurrection Beasts), and the third book of a trilogy isn't really the time to introduce them. (This, by the way, is also my argument that it wasn't aliens who destroyed the solar system in the first place--even though everyone else seems to have come to that interpretation (where by “everyone” I mean my two friends who have read this book). Being Doylist, it's kind of a cheap, lazy argument on my part, but whatever, I still stand by that as a prediction: no aliens.) And Alecto must be something much more powerful than a human because John is so much more powerful than a Lyctor. Finally, the stoma opens for John, and it only opens for Resurrection Beasts--it opens for him because he holds part of Alecto's soul and she is a Resurrection Beast.

The potential counter-evidence is the older Lyctors are confident they know her origins (but that doesn't necessarily make her not a Resurrection Beast), and the [other] Resurrection Beasts are drawn to her as much as to John according to Mercy (although in that case why haven't they attacked the Tomb? and also, again, that doesn't preclude her being a Resurrection Beast--we don't know their relationships with each other, and anyway, their attraction to her might have something to do with the Lyctorification process).

Ok, all that's fair enough. Let's delve into the crack interpretations now. I'm going to start with an irrelevant introduction, though, to explain my frame of mind when I came up with this. In the Appendices of Gideon the Ninth, Muir mentions that Isaac is named as foreshadowing for Gideon's sacrificial death, as in the Christian interpretation of the Bible, the Biblical Isaac foreshadows Jesus. My copy of the e-book did not have the Appendices, but my best friend's did, and she shared screens with me. It's slightly embarrassing that my best friend and I, reading this together, did not even guess from this, not even as a joke, that Gideon's father might be God. I mean, it's not... generally embarrassing--no one reading this should be embarrassed for themselves--it's only embarrassing if you know the two of us, know how good my best friend is at this sort of thing (she guessed the entire murder mystery in GtN a little more than halfway through, including that Dulcinea was dead and had been replaced by a Lyctor in disguise who had philosophical problems with God and was rebelling), and know what sorts of in-jokes and ridiculous speculation we tend to bandy around with each other--know just how often we, respectively and together, joke that some character or other is Jesus. And here it was right on the page, we read it out loud to each other and discussed it, and we didn't even see it. We were both completely taken in by the Gideon Episode One red[-haired] herring (as was, to be fair, Gideon himself). This speculation that I'm about to present came right on the heels of the two of us debriefing over this, because I was primed to read way the hell in too much into Biblical references.

The key line is something my best friend caught, not me. She wasn't even done with the book yet, but the line was bothering her (I'd completely glossed and then forgotten it--never let it be said that my bad grades in English Lit were undeserved). Page 327 (and I'm so glad to have an ebook so I can do word searches), Teacher is talking to Harrow in the dream bubble...........

To their silence, [Teacher] added: “I believe we are now being punished for what they did. Even the devil bent for God to put a leash around her neck … and the disciples were scared! I cannot blame them! I was terrified! But when the work was done—when I was finished, and so were they, and the new Lyctors found out the price—they bade him kill the saltwater creature before she could do them harm … Oh, but it is a tragedy, to be put in a box and laid to wait for the rest of time.

"Saltwater creature" stuck with my best friend. She had no idea what it meant, other than that nearly every mention of saltwater (or salt water, two words, the text is inconsistent) in Harrow the Ninth is alluding to Alecto in some capacity (we confirmed this by searching--again, I love ebooks for this kind of thing). But I was like... wait, I might know! This is my favorite Bible lore!

Muir is working from the King James Bible (based on the quotation at the end of Gideon the Ninth) which is impenetrable and also is a translation of the Latin Vulgate, which is mostly a translation of the Septuagint, which doesn’t even have an extant Hebrew version, so ugh all around. But for this purpose it’s close enough, so I guess that's what I'll use for my English version. Here is how the KJV starts:

In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. And God said, Let there be light: and there was light. And God saw the light, that it was good: and God divided the light from the darkness. And God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And the evening and the morning were the first day. And God said, Let there be a firmament in the midst of the waters, and let it divide the waters from the waters. And God made the firmament, and divided the waters which were under the firmament from the waters which were above the firmament: and it was so. And God called the firmament Heaven. And the evening and the morning were the second day.

Ok, that word there, "the deep." What it says in the Masoretic text (the Hebrew Bible used by both Jews and Protestants) is "tehom," which is not quite a hapax legomenon, but neither is it a word that shows up very often, and importantly it only shows up in very few contexts that reference each other. It is certainly not the usual Hebrew word for sea, and importantly, in the Hebrew there is no "the"; it actually says "darkness was on the face of Tehom" like it's a proper name [capitalization mine for illustration, since Hebrew doesn’t capitalize]. Notice also how on the second day basically the only thing God accomplishes is cutting this thing, this "Deep" made of water, in half, sending one half up into the sky. This is a quick retelling of the defeat of Tiamat (linguistically cognate with Tehom) in the Enuma Elish. Tiamat, the Goddess of the Saltwater Deeps, Mother of Monsters and Dragons, is justifiably angry with the other gods and sets out to kill them; Marduk, the aspiring new head of the Pantheon, cuts her in half. Half of her he leaves on Earth to create the oceans (or just the Earth itself? been a while since I read it), and half of her he throws up into the air and it becomes the sky.

There is a lot of old Jewish writing, some of it predating Christianity, that just starts to touch on this, without daring to delve too deep (...as it were) and pull on the pan-Middle Eastern polytheistic roots of Judaism. (They had enough problems with people still worshiping Asherah, who in southern Canaanite tradition was the sea-and-mother goddess who was the wife of Yahweh the storm god, and who gets mentioned in the Bible a whole lot, without also bringing Tiamat into it.) The Gnostics really latched on, though. They said that this "deep" obviously in the text there predates God's creation, and used that as the foundation of quite a lot of their theological argument: that God (who they call the Demiurge) didn't create the universe ex nihilo (out of nothing) but rather that there was a being even more powerful that came before. And they named this more powerful, older being Bythos (among other things), which means "depth" in Greek. They changed the gender, but they brought Tehom the saltwater goddess back as the most primordial and powerful of all beings.

Bringing this back to Harrow the Ninth... Insofar as it's Biblical allegory (which isn't much--less than Narnia and even Narnia doesn't strictly adhere to Biblical narrative), I think we should take the Resurrection committed by John to be the Biblical Creation not the Biblical Resurrection. First of all, John becomes God by performing the Resurrection, which is a much better parallel to Genesis than to Isaiah or Revelations or whatever. Second of all, after the Biblical Resurrection, everyone who gets to be resurrected is supposed to live in eternal peace in Eden. In contrast, in Genesis, after the creation, people start out in Eden but are quickly expelled and then bad things happen. This matches the story much better, where the expulsion from Eden is due to Lyctorhood--the Resurrection Beasts come for the Lyctors and they have to leave Eden; in this respect, I guess John is really the snake as much as he's God, lol. (Worth noting that in some parts of Christian tradition--although I can't remember about Catholicism specifically--the snake is supposed to be Satan. This also ties back to Gnosticism where the Demiurge is malevolent; John, insofar as he did not actually create the universe on his own, is a much better match for a demiurge than a true god.)

So, anyway, taking John's act of Resurrecting all those people as the initial Creation rather than the Resurrection (the fact that Augustine doesn't remember his pre-Resurrection self, is effectively a new person, also points to this being effectively an initial Creation), the Resurrection Beasts actually come before Creation. They come from the dying of the planets. They predate John becoming God. Furthermore, Alecto is a “saltwater creature,” and she keeps her body after she's Lyctorified, meaning she's split in some way between John and her old body; she is Tehom. Back to the Gnostic idea, Tehom is a more-powerful being who predates God, and the only creatures predating God in Harrow are the Resurrection Beasts who must be comparable to him in power to create such fear: Alecto, then, must be a Resurection Beast.

The problem with this theory is it's a little Jewish and it's very Gnostic but it isn't Catholic. In the Gideon and Harrow, Muir draws references in her language from practically everywhere. But as far as I can tell she only draws allusions and allegory from two mythologies: Greco-Roman and Roman Catholic. And although Jews and Gnostics are drawing on a lot of the same source text, the  understanding is different, and the expansive side stories are different. Although, then again, who am I to say that Muir isn't also drawing on Gnosticism and this isn't our big clue; I've half convinced myself as I wrote this, with the whole John-as-Demiurge thing. It's a fun theory, anyway, and so I thought I'd share it.

(I'm aware that I've completely ignored any connection to Greek mythology, despite her name being Alecto.)

[of-sanguine-eyes]

Relentless Live-read (chapters 28 and 29)

I’m aware this would go faster if I wasn’t taking the time to do these thoughts at the end of every couple of chapters. However, I find that I just can’t stop commenting on things, both in the Kindle Notes and a more thorough, less-profanity laced commentary here. Mostly because, well, someone has to discuss this, and if it’s taking me this long to get through, there might well be a reason why.

With these two chapters, though...

I will say, I could so get behind more scenes of Bruenor and Zaknafein explicitly bonding. They do have points in common, along the lines of “had offspring, coming back from the dead into a different world is weird, human generations are weird, and can I go hit something to feel less weird now?”

That was the good part of this. So was Zaknafein actually being remembered and offered to be a part of this - and cheerfully explaining that nope, drow males don’t get to witness this, he’ll wait outside.

The return of birth magic was the less-good part of this. I could, in theory, get behind the concept. However, the actual childbirth scene, chapter 29, needed a sensitivity reader so bad - not just a beta reader, not just someone who has researched the mechanics. An actual sensitivity reader to say “this is offensive, you need to reword this.”

Look. Childbirth can be a spiritual moment. It is definitely a very emotional moment. It is also extremely physical and, in a world with no epidurals, painful. The reason the birth magic made some kind of sense in Homeland was because the idea of harnessing pain and casting it to someone else made at last some kind of sense. The idea of working through pain to cast this ritual which gives great power is...the part that needs the sensitivity reader.

Saying that childbirth is the greatest power in the world trips right over the line between “yes some would feel this way” and into “don’t make sweeping statements about complicated things.” Definitely don’t write childbirth as magically making her “one with everything”, just the way a monk transcends. Or suggest that it’s her own “power” and spirituality that makes her need to push - that’s called bearing down, it’s a natural part of labor.

(It is definitely a choice to write a character who, a handful of books ago, was shown as being religious, a cleric and a wizard, now also becoming Monk-like. At this point I start to wonder if it’s just his new theme to brush aside all religious aspects in favor of Monk As Perfect spirituality. If I want to give him any kind of credit, it’s maybe trying to move away from religion for Real World reasons and implications, but, that’s still not how a fantasy world in which gods are objectively real work.)

Basically he stripped away all the real, messy parts of labor, the parts that make it a very human act, in favor of mystical Quasi-Monk Nonsense. Cattie-brie should not have been Mother Goddess-ing through this, exalting in “her power of creation as a woman” and how this is the greatest thing ever.

(She also shouldn’t have been flat on her back to have this baby, but that is also a choice the author made sure to make, even after starting her in a fairly reasonable position for labor.)

The part that most struck me, though, was her reaction to her actual baby. (Who is apparently going to be just fine and we don’t need to worry about any after-effects of the fever now. For some reason.) She noted “swaddled, head, hair”, and then focused on the dangling umbilical cord. That is...a detail of childbirth, yes. But this is her first baby, the child from her lost husband. And she just had a mad rush of of Creative Power Through Childbirth Yay! ...where’s marveling at the rumpled face of Brand Newborn, the rush of love and emotion for this tiny person, looking for features, worrying about counting fingers and toes? We get a little of it, but only after that jarring little detail that makes the emotional resonance of the rest of it slip on ice and fall flat on its back.

Backtracking briefly: so she took all the “power of childbirth” - whatever that actually is, no you don’t get to handwave this with mysticism and jot down a few “ignoring the pain” lines as if that makes it realistic - and used the ritual to reach out and strengthen her allies. Great. That’s, in game mechanics, like a souped-up version of Prayer or Bless. Which every single Cleric, War Priest, Paladin (if there are any around) should already be casting, and more. So...beyond range and power, how would this be unique, again?

Or is that the real reason he’s desperately backpedaling away from religion in this, because clerical spells mean that Ideas aren’t that special?

[iwritethat]

Tim Drake: Sister, Sister

Tim Drake x Sister!reader

A/N: This beautiful idea was all down to @comicsgirlimagines who is truly wonderful and an incredible writer also (check them out), credit goes to them for their support and talks when writing this.

Thank you @comicsgirlimagines ♥️

>>>>——————————>

It was ironic, everything around was designed to perfection, to be exactly what you wanted and needed to maintain a positive existence as a reward for your past choices on Earth.

Yes, Heaven may've been perfect and brought you endless happiness but you were conscious enough to find the faults, for a start your brother was absent - which of course was a blessing, you didn't want him to join you for as long as possible, he had his whole life to live after all. It was entrancing, tuning in to the life events of Tim Drake on occasion, your little brother had certainly taken an interesting path - currently he fought with his new brothers, the League of Assassins were after Damian again and it automatically became a family emergency.

They hopped from rooftop to rooftop, battling various members with each vigilante fighting their own battles yet managing to lend assistance when able. However as you watched on, Red Robin seemed to be doubled down - more assassins were upcoming and he was the first standing in their way. You began to panic, was there even a way to get down there?! You'd looked into such things before as soon as you learned of his hobby, sure you were dead but people constantly connected with the spirit world - such a phenomena should work both ways. Or at least it was a theory under construction at the moment.

———

Another down, then another, and another. It became routine, but with repetitive strain came exhaustion and before Tim could react he'd made what was soon to be a fatal mistake, he should’ve ducked the blade gunning for his throat but instead was a millisecond too late to react. His body falling short of available counters and it was then he realised, this was it - after everything, this was finally how he’d go out. Maybe it wasn’t so bad, he’d aided more people than he ever thought possible but surely there were things he’d miss out on like having the opportunity to become a father, get married or even see Gotham make progress as a city. Regardless, he had made his peace with that and he’d closed his eyes in acceptance ready for whatever awaited him in the afterlife.

It was a split second - he never thought the white light actually existed but it flashed behind his eyelids rather sporadically and suddenly the breath was knocked out of lungs and it felt as though his head collided with concrete.

"Jeez I'll be back soon, don't worry." His sister gave an exasperated sigh, hands on her hips as her little brother tugged at her backpack.

"But (Y/n)! Please let me come with you!" Tim pleaded, successfully halting her in her tracks.

"No way kiddo, you'll probably fall off of the mountain. But hey, no matter how far apart we are, I'll always look out for you. Okay?" She smiled, tousling his hair as he accepted her justification.

"You promise?"

"I pinky promise."

"Hmm, see you when you get back loser." Tim mischievously commented, his sister rolled her eyes with a sarcastic "Oh haha." before heading off on her rock climbing trip.

That was the last time he'd laid eyes on her, unbeknownst to him at the time. And yet, this light, this warm familiar presence brought back such memories - of that day, of the news, of the funeral...

So then, how is it that he could hear her voice so clearly?

"Get up Tim! C'mon loser, I don't know how long I've got!" It was dangerously loud, demanding almost and it made him consider how things hadn’t changed much.

Tim was coming to, clenching his eyes shut in order to adjust to the bright glow that shrouded the area as he sat up with a squint.

"Argh, (Y/n) what the-?"

The figure kneeling down beside him was easily recognisable, having not aged in the years that had passed without her but the concerned expression she wore was contagious.

"No time to explain, magic spiritual existence or whatever but please get up. Here's your staff." You pulled him to his feet, albeit Tim remained dazed with these developments and stumbled against your figure with a groan. His staff was pushed into his chest and it was only now - dream or not - he spoke his true feelings.

"I missed you, so much..."

“I know...” The sincerity in his voice only made you feel guilty, the accident wasn’t your fault but you still left him and that was a weight you’d carried since you’d died.

Tim was slowly adjusting, finding what seemed to be a brief flash of wings behind you but that must’ve been from hitting his head so hard considering he now stood on the opposing rooftop to previously. Recalling the last moments his hand shot to his throat, more than shocked when his fingers remained absent of blood and his breathing was perfectly normal ignoring the quickness of it, next he looked back to where he was standing beforehand only to find bodies of assassins littering the roof and battles continuing over the street.

“Am I dead?”

“What? No. I’m dead, you’re alive.” You quickly corrected with furrowed brows and a sigh, flicking his forehead as he pushed your hand away in retaliation.

Although he paused, the familiarity of sibling like antics hitting him with an unwanted wave of nostalgia and he looked at you again - really looked. Saw past the golden glow, saw past the perfect skin and any evidence of scathes or aging. It was you but ethereal, you weren’t alive, you weren’t staying and you definitely weren’t coming back to life. That was what made him embrace you, arms wrapping around your torso so tightly that if alive then breathing would be a problem but you didn’t care, his face buried in your hair whilst you held back emotional whimpers. For however long you had been gifted, you’d say goodbye properly this time.

“I’m sorry for breaking my promise, so sorry, please please forgive me Tim -“

“Yo-you didn’t break it idiot.” It was such a soft whisper, an attempt to comfort you even if he didn’t understand your reasoning for profuse apologies.

“I didn’t come home, I left you alone and that’s the worst thing I could’ve done as your sister!” You defended, justifying your beliefs and pulling away from Tim who offered a soft smile amidst his watery eyes.

“You promised that no matter how far apart we are, you’d always look out for me and you have. (Y/n) you saved my life just now - how many people have the willpower to come back from the grave to do that? But you did that for me, you kept your promise.” Tim assured, wiping your tears away before hugging you once more.

“I’m proud of you y’know, kicking names and taking ass.” You weakly laughed, parting to punch his shoulder once regaining your composure.

“So you keep up with the times in the afterlife huh?”

“It gets boring up there okay? Speaking of, you should get back to fighting beside your family - who I love by the way.” You happily informed, gesturing over time the members of the Batfamily fighting various battles with a sad knowing smile.

Tim noticed the sorrow in your irises, the way you turned back to him like it was the last time you’d be with each other and it probably was but he simply sighed and placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“You’re still my favourite sibling and as such I guess I should take your advice.” Tim softly commented and with an understanding nod a bright light engulfed his form once more.

This time he’d landed in the most heated area of the fight, landing executed perfectly with an immense rupture of light knocking out every enemy on impact. Tim stood, his family turning to him awestruck at the amount of unfathomable controlled power that originated from his form and how exactly he’d seemingly beamed over out of thin air.

“Later Timbers, and by the way I think you should stop crushing on Steph and ask her out already.” Your voice remained, albeit fleeting, as was your figure standing beside him overlooking your handiwork.

“Wha- you can’t know all of my business zombie!” He went to knock your upper arm, fingers phasing straight through your body and you both mirrored sympathetic expressions, a knowing and meaningful exchange enough to say what words couldn’t.

“I’m so happy for you Tim, stay alive okay?” And with that your figure faded into blissful golden stardust that spiralled into wind up toward the matte sky until they’d disappeared from Tim’s line of sight.

“Goodbye (Y/n)...”

——

“What was that out there Tim? A new gadget?” Bruce questioned his former partner once they returned to the Batcave whilst Tim got out his phone with an absentminded smile.

“My sister.”

“You have a sister, why didn’t you ever mention it?” Dick now inquired, walking in step beside him.

“Because you’d want to meet her and that’s, that’s impossible but her name was (Y/n). Here, this was us a few years ago.” Tim answered honestly, the implications easily read by his family who remained respectfully quiet until Tim handed Dick his phone which displayed a picture of the two of you. The others gathering around out of curiosity.

“Damn she’s hot.” Jason casually commented, reviving a facepalm from Cass and chiding from an irritated Damian.

“Todd, that’s completely irrelevent!”

“She has standards Jay sorry, but, she really likes you guys.” Tim smugly replied, his last words laced with underlying gratitude whilst Jason received over dramatic ‘ooohs’ from the rest of the family after that smart burn. Although Tim saw the contentment on each of them, that despite not knowing you, they had your blessing as his new family which was a very sacred thing in their opinion.

Once he’d regained his own space, he began typing a message he never thought he’d write until after your encounter.

Tim: [Hey Steph, I’ve been told I need to act on things so I was wondering if you wanted to go out this weekend? Not in costume, just as you and I.]

Stephanie: [About time Tim, who do I have to thank for your sudden confidence haha?]

Tim gave a relieved smile at the positive reply, looking up to the sky before asking with a proud yet considerate tone.

“You happy now?”

He would’ve said the sun broke through the cloudy sky of Gotham for a few seconds, golden rays bathing the Manor grounds and his skin - but that was probably unrelated coincidence...