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glikeriya-narkevich · 2 months ago

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I apologize in advance for possible grammatical errors. My native language is not English. My text is very very long. I will be glad to like-minded people, because I am so much disappointed with the DLC and I needed to speak out here on my personal blog.

I really wanted to see Bi-Han's redemption arc, but instead I got an aggravation of Bi-Han's gloomy state. I saw Bi-Han accept his new identity in the form of Noob Saibot. There was no change in Bi-Han's mind after what he forcibly experienced (the transformation into Noob Saibot). Everything I saw was a huge disappointment for me, because I adore Bi-Han as a character, and I never wanted to see him as a stupid, clichéd villain, as the writers made him in the DLC. Bi-Han has always been a neutral character with a penchant for atoning for sins, so to speak, if we turn to the MK classics. But I'm still hoping that in future story additions, Liu Kang will still be able to return Bi-Han to his former state by healing him from chaos magic. I haven't given up hope of seeing Bi-Han as Sub-Zero, even if this hope is small and naive. I hope to see Bi-Han's change of mind, his reflection on the past, and credible motivations for his actions.

Now I'd like to write why I don't like Sektor so much.

The shortest answer is: because she's acting stupid. Taking Bi-Han out of the Temple of Elements is like taking a person with a severe traumatic brain injury out of the hospital, thus depriving him of the necessary life-saving treatment. Sektor says to Noob Saibot in one of the Intro Dialogues, „I couldn't leave you locked away in the Temple.“ This sounds just like saying to a sick person, „I couldn't let the doctors treat you, so I took you home, but I have no idea how to cure you myself“. Sektor's ego is enormous!

To me, it all sounds like a dialogue between two people:

She: I'm looking for a cure for your terrible disease, dear.

He: No, honey, I'm not going to be treated. My terrible disease gives me advantages.

She: But the doctor says your terrible disease will kill you!

He: I don't want the doctor to treat me.

She: All right, darling, let it be your way.

And if Sektor thought that Liu Kang had left Bi-Han to rot in the Temple of elements after she personally saw that Liu Kang had healed Bi-Han's mind and said that he would look for a way to heal Bi-Han's body as well, then Sekctor is doubly stupid because she can't assimilate simple information and think logically. Liu Kang himself doesn't know exactly how to heal Bi-Han and how long it will take, so how would Sektor know this in that case? Bi-Han's responses to her words are my main disappointment. He wants to be Noob Saibot when he says in one of the Intro Dialogues, „I do not want Liu Kang to cure me“. Noob Saibot also approved of Sektor's act when she kidnapped him from the Temple of Elements, „You were right to be impatient“.

I don't see any love for Bi-Han in Sektor. I see a blind passion for him. She tells Noob Saibot in one of the Intro Dialogues, „Is it best for you to remain this way?“ These are the words of an obsessed fanatic, not a loving woman. Asking such a question is like asking an alcoholic, „Is it a good thing if you stay an alcoholic?“. Sektor doesn't see the black abyss into which Bi-Han is slowly sinking. She does not save him, but supports the evil in him, thus cultivating the blackness in Bi-Han's soul. After all, Liu Kang tells Noob Saibot, „Continue, Bi-Han, and it will not end well for you“. In this case, Liu Kang is showing concern for Bi-Han's soul, but Sektor is not. Liu Kang continues to believe in Bi-Han and warns him. And Sektor doesn't see the problem because she is blind, she herself is threatened by darkness.

The way Bi-Han doesn't listen to Sektor and roughly rips his hand out of her grasp when she tries to stop him from attacking Liu Kang suggests that her passion for Bi-Han means little to him, because he's not ready to listen to her in moments of intense emotional upheaval. He's not ready to stop and give up on some "feverish" action. I think Bi-Han is obsessed with Lin Kuei first and foremost, and Sektor is more of a tool for him to achieve his personal goals than his lover. The only, I emphasize, the only scene that shows some kind of mutual warmth between them, ended up going nowhere. Bi-Han wants to be Noob Saibot, he thinks of his goals first, and Sektor is always ready to support any of Bi-Han's ideas. What gives us this moment of warmth when they touched foreheads for a couple of seconds? Absolutely nothing.

I really dislike Sektor because she helps Bi-Han perish, and doesn't slow down his fall into darkness. I don't see why I can sympathize with her. But Sektor is not a good character either, it was not worth waiting for noble deeds from her. From the Intro Dialogues between Scorpion and Geras, as well as between Smoke and Geras, there is a hint that Tomas will die in the future and will be forcibly turned into a cyborg. Who's going to do this to him? I have no doubt that Sektor will do it. How can such a person help Bi-Han see any light? It's impossible. They are mutually corrupting each other.

From the Intro Dialogues we already know that she has made mechanical monsters and is eager to try them out. And the cybernetic armor is just the beginning, and most likely we're in for a classic violent cybernization ahead. How can Sektor help Bi-Han if she's blinded by her own ego? Sektor is not Harumi. My deep conviction is that Bi-Han should have a woman who truly loves him and is wise, such as Harumi, but not the obsessed Sektor, whose love for Bi-Han blinds her, as Cyrax correctly pointed out. Sektor doesn't confront the darkness within Bi-Han because Sektor is blind in her fanaticism towards Bi-Han. She doesn't see this darkness because she is most likely filled with the exact same darkness herself.

Love is not only support, sometimes it is a strong confrontation in the name of saving a life.

I believe that Bi-Han needs a woman with a light within. He needs someone who is the opposite of darkness, then his eyes might be able to see at least some path that could be called different than the one he's already on. Yes, at first Sektor is obsessed with healing Bi-Han, but at the same time, she doesn't want to give Noob Saibot to Liu Kang. She ended up agreeing completely that Noob Saibot himself didn't want healing for himself. Sektor, girl, is there anything you can say against him? For his own good! His soul and life in a normal body and in a normal state is at stake. Metaphorically speaking, Sektor can't sober up Bi-Han because she's drunk herself.

And all of this is because neither Bi-Han nor Sektor see Noob Saibot's condition as something bad. Yes, I'd like to see a woman save Bi-Han from the darkness, rather than going crazy with him, sinking deeper and deeper into that darkness. Bi-Han could have been a neutral character who could be understood, condemned and justified at the same time, but in the end he became a clichéd villain with boring motivation. A villain without a ray of light within him is dull, boring and uninteresting. A hero without islands of inner darkness is just as boring and uninteresting. But that's exactly what they made Bi-Han in the DLC — a boring and uninteresting villain. At least some hope is given to me by dialogues between Noob Saibot and Bi-Han, in which Bi-Han clearly doesn't accept Noob and is hostile to him.

The second bitter disappointment that befell me was in regards to Kuai Liang. He is shown to be a disgusting person, he is shown to be a hypocrite in this DLC. All the things that Kuai Liang condemned his brother for, now he does himself, such as reveling in power over another, weaker one (poor Cyrax). It is already known from the Intro Dialogue between Cyrax and Noob Saibot that Kuai Liang had a romantic past with Cyrax. Kuai Liang did a doubly despicable thing when he silently disappeared from Lin Kuei and then married another woman. How could he silently disappear without saying anything to his former lover, whom he knows Bi-Han will definitely deceive? And after that, he dares to condemn Cyrax and is even ready to behead her with a katana? Kuai Liang doesn't notice his own sins, but is sure to denounce others. Yes, he had every right to be angry, but still he is the second rightful heir in Lin Kuei, and he didn't do anything when he could have influenced the situation in Lin Kuei, at the very least he could have told everyone about what happened between him and Bi-Han, thus denying Bi-Han the opportunity to lie to his warriors in the future.

Cyrax is too submissive to Kuai Liang. She has every moral right to throw all of Kuai Liang's grievances in his face. She tried to do that, but she gave up very quickly, I'd say she shut up in front of Kuai Liang. I don't understand how she could ask to join his clan after treating her like that? She saved his life, that alone should have been enough to make Kuai Liang turn on his brain. Cyrax had fully redeemed herself from him! But he was being terribly ungrateful and arrogant. Watching Cyrax's self-deprecation in front of a man who wasn't worthy of such submission was very unpleasant to me. Kuai Liang is not a counterbalance to Bi-Han, he is the other side of the same grim coin. Bi-Han and Kuai Liang are worthy of each other.

But in the Kuai Liang/Harumi pair, there is a voice of reason in the person of Harumi, and Kuai Liang is still able to listen to both Liu Kang and Harumi. And there is no voice of reason in the Bi-Han/Sektor pair. Bi-Han doesn't listen to Sektor in critical situations, for the most part she's his tool and fanatical assistant, perhaps a loyal and constant servant. I don't see a strong mutual affection on Bi-Han's part for Sektor. It seems to me that he's more of someone who feels good about being loved and he allows her to love him. Sektor is willing to accept anything from Bi-Han and she can't confront his inner darkness, because Sektor doesn't see a problem with Bi-Han's soul. So spiritually they will both die sooner or later if they don't listen to Liu Kang. A confrontation between them after what Bi-Han went through would have seemed more logical and interesting.

Bi-Han in this DLC turned out to be an absolutely empty character, in which I saw nothing but a thirst for power, fame, strength, dominance and control. And all these things are defamation of the character by the writers, because we have the original Bi-Han, who has never been so empty and one-sided. Even in the first part of Mortal Kombat 1, Bi-Han was an interesting and deep character, despite the widespread hatred against him. There are plenty of awesome and well-reasoned analyses of his personality here on Tumblr that just prove it. In the "Khaos Reigns", Bi-Han is simply buried as a character. There is simply no conflict in the story of the fall of his personality.

Dude, you've been turned into a black monster against your will. Your mind is being healed, you wake up in this new body, and what? No shock? I'd understand if Bi-Han had asked Havik himself to make him Noob Saibot, but the transformation was done through torture and violence. How could Bi-Han end up being okay with who he has become? I just don't believe it.

P.S. I still adore Bi-Han. Even this DLC won't make me stop loving him. Almost 30 years of my life in the fandom can't be crossed out by this terrible DLC and imposing romance on players, for which Cyrax and Sektor changed their gender. I wish Liu Kang had somehow miraculously gotten his Kitana back if the writers wanted to add romance so badly. I felt like I was reading a bad fanfic rather than watching the official DLC. That's how this DLC will remain for me — a bad fanfic about my favorite characters. I can't and won't accept this DLC as canon. Thank God, no one can take that right away from me.

P.P.S. The screen time of Tomas, who I also love dearly, was criminally small, and after all, he's one of the three brothers, not some NPC...

#bi han mk #bi han sub zero #bi han mortal kombat #bi han #sub zero

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toomuchracket · 3 months ago

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Having had flatmate matty help her pick out clothes now I can't help but think about him having to give his honest opinion on what she should wear on a date, watching her head out the door in his fave outfit 😔

this is genius but also evil as fuck. my god. him coming back from tour desperate to see you and hold you and just be with you (if he had any sense, though, he'd tell you how he really feels. but alas), and tbf you have a couple of days of that... before you tentatively come into his room one friday morning with two outfits in your arms like "please help me pick between these. i need to know which you like better", and he obliges, of course, and then asks "what for, darling?" and is SHATTERED when your face lights up and you say "well, finally, after what seems like an age of only hookups... i've been asked out on a date". he can't speak because he's so upset, which you seem to take as bewilderment; your face falls a bit and you murmur "well, i didn't think me being asked out would be so shocking that it leaves you speechless, matty. didn't think it was such an impossible notion, but whatever", and he has to force himself to be like "no, it's good, darling - great. sorry. s'pose i'm still jet lagged, brain isn't working right. but yeah, it's... good" because he absolutely doesn't want to upset you, and you perk up a bit like "oh. thanks. um, i know we usually have dinner together on fridays, but i obviously won't be here for that. don't really know if i'll be home at all, i really am not sure, but yeah. feel free to like. have people over. not that you need my permission, but... the flat will be free. just don't let anyone in my room or anything". matty just nods, and gives you a thumbs up, and tries his best not to cry while you're getting ready, and hugs you goodbye with a "you look beautiful. really" when you ask him if you look alright (very amylaurie, you know the vibes), and he DOES scroll through his contacts with the intention of maybe texting an old hookup to come over as distraction, but honestly the thought of that and the thought of you being romanced by someone and sleeping with them just makes him feel sick - instead, he just sticks on some midwest emo and goes to bed and cries himself to a really early night's sleep. it's fitful, though, and he's awoken just before 10pm by you texting "hey. not really having a good time so i'm on the bus home. don't do the bottom lock pls x"; naturally, he perks up with an enthusiasm that sickens him, and texts back like "alright. just me here btw. i would've picked u up, yk x" before wandering into the living room and faffing about with an acoustic while he waits for you to come home. despite his relief that the date didn't go well, his heart breaks at how dejected you look when you shuffle into the room and tell him about how boring a time you had, but it heals at the way you automatically curl into him as you talk and then say "wish i'd just stayed here with you, matty. i like it best". because yeah sure you went on the date but it's HIM you wish you were doing that with, him you want to be romanced by and hold hands with in the street and kiss at red lights and whatnot. that's why you haven't worn the outfit he liked best when you went shopping, didn't even consider it for tonight even though it's your favourite and would've looked great - you only want to wear that one if it's on a date with him. nobody else. god, the two of you... stupid little idiot babies <3

#mads answers asks #matty asks #fluff asks #angst asks #flatmate!matty

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shoko-komi · 11 months ago

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The Komi Report - Communications 437, 438, & 439

This week in Komi Can't Communicate:

A familiar name...

...a cryptic trial...

...and a triple threat.

Read It: Mangareader Mangakakalot Viz Media (North America Exclusive) Mangadex (Dead, but there’s the backlog; and Spanish language updates)

There is so much going on this week.... much to interest us!!!

It is time for stage two of the university entrance process... and we meet someone new.

Tadano??? 👀👀👀 A cousin? A coincidence? To me this is a fascinating plot twist. She's like boy-Tadano; she introduces herself as ordinary, and on the train she let's an old man have her seat. Everyone does that, sure, but it's very Tadano for it to be specifically shown to us. Who is this mysterious girl???

Tangent - Oda has said in an interview that Komi was originally going to be a boy, but his editor suggested making the character a girl instead (he doesn't elaborate on this). One doesn't imagine that Oda would have made the manga a yaoi (although that would have been awesome); so if Komi had been a boy, that would have made Tadano a girl. This is pertinent in that I am now imagining Maruko as boy-Tadano's alternate reality counterpart.

I wonder if she's ever been to Cairns (Cairns is a popular Australian holiday destination for Japanese tourists. It's in the far north and has many attractions, making it a more affordable and accessible holiday spot than places such as Sydney. Fuck Sydney. No one likes Sydney.)

I love her....... and her specialty is reading the room. hehehehehehe

What do you think is the tastiest condiment for a friend egg? I don't eat fried eggs often because I don't like eggs enough to cook them for myself, so I'm not well-versed in appropriate egg condiments. Sometimes with these complex political topics you just have to say "sorry, I'm not well informed enough to have an opinion".

The question of her connection to boy-Tadano is going to dominate my mind until it's answered.

Egypt.... we don't get much of this girl, so all I can really say is that I like her look.

I like how, before this point, Oda obfuscates that there are three of them.

In these earlier panels

(text removed for ease of viewing) you can see that there are three of them, but one may not notice unless one is paying attention. A nice detail 👍. Also, freaky hive-mind triplets........... very cool!

I bet their psychic triplet connection allows them to share what they taste and experience. Eating with three mouths at the same time... the possibilities.......

King Khufu. I searched 'King Khufu' and think this funky ivory carving of him is cool

Girl it's okay to ask follow-up questions asodnalsdknasd please ask what she means

Komi is so offended by the idea of putting pepper on an egg that she shuns girl-Tadano cruelly 😓

I have a sneaking suspicion that 'soy sauce and wasabi' got exactly three votes. This is blatantly unfair, as a hive-mind like this should only be counted as one person.

AJBKJASWKJASJNAOJS I know the answer to this one - put me in charge. Give ol' Alice the reigns and I'll set everyone straight.

I liked these triplets, but their idea for world peace is so stupid that I feel exactly how Komi did when girl-Tadano suggested putting pepper on an egg.

overthrow capitalism and abolish the state!!!!!

I'm back to liking the triplets. Their smug, controlling attitude is very evil and endearing.

AOISHOAISJOIASJOLAM it's like her brain shut down earlier and only just booted back up. Everyone appears to have forgotten the question of world peace and focused entirely on Komi's egg opinions.

And that's it for this week!!! We are left with a cliffhanger; the group discussion was getting heated and then Komi came in with a total curve ball. I'm pleased to see more of Komi's university entrance process, and so far it's been fun! The new characters are interesting; especially girl-Tadano (for the reason of her name). The triplets are fun, and I'm not sure what to make of Egypt at the moment. I am most curious to see how it continues next week!

Until then, stay safe!! I'll see you soon.

#komi #komi can't communicate #komi san wa komyushou desu #komi report #the komi report

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skullfacedog · 11 months ago

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I accidentally stumbled upon a text document of my old journal thread from a therian forum from when I was a teen and now I'm going thru it bc I'm really curious of the signs I had headmates or repressed memories back then

-so far, I've described myself as "being able to switch personalities easily" and wondering if I was half demon or had a demon headmate all along that I didn't know about because I had multiple sides of me that felt very contradictory. I am hellhoundkin but I feel like a lot of the demonic feels I had as a teen have worn off a lot, especially since my mental health has gotten better.

it's crazy reading these old posts bc I'm like a totally different person now lmao. I rlly said "I have violent urges and it's hard to hold back from hurting ppl just to hear them scream" YOU COULDN'T EVEN HURT A FLY WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUTTTT

-another thing that's kinda weird is that I was really obsessed with outer space at some point and mentioned that in my journal and mentioned questioning being stardragonkin but now it's like ?? I mean space is cool but it's nowhere near one of my main interests. I'm more of a fantasy person than a scifi person. naturey shit is wayyyy cooler than stars sorry.

-post about feeling sick for no reason like not having a cold or anything and being unable to eat but I thought it was species dysphoria??

-post complaining that I "don't feel like myself lately". depression or headmate??

-previously talked about feeling hellhound shifts that feel different from normal and kind of having a weird change in mindset. then in this post I mention I have a hellhound headmate named xarashi. that's them!!! that's the hellhound I "shifted" into!! also happy bc I fully forgot their name and it's been killing me that I didn't remember their name and just referred to them as "the hellhound headmate I had as a teenager". I wonder if they're still around but I feel like if I ask I would get an answer just bc I asked, does that make sense?? like I'm afraid my brain is making shit up but also, they were 100% a headmate at one point so it's not crazy to think they could still be there somewhere.

-also mentioned eshari who was a little demon girl headmate I had for a short time who was weirdly malicious. I distinctly remember like having a fight or something triggering me really badly with my internet friend and I just started feeling entirely emotionless and dissociatey and responded to my friend in ways I would not normally. and later I realized that was a headmate and tried talking to her. I genuinely thought she was an evil demon or something but I'm pretty sure she was a persecutor?? girl I'm so sorry I was so fucking dumb. anyway the lore goes that xarashi chased off eshari and kind of replaced her.

-not related to the general post idea here ig I'm just giving a live reaction at this point but I got to the point where I posted about meeting my ex abuser irl when we were dating and I said "I've never been that nervous in my life" "he kept hugging and petting me, it made me a bit uncomfortable bc I'm not used to him, but I liked it!" BITCH YOU ARE LYING TO YOURSELF BECAUSE HE LOVEBOMBED YOU AND YOU SO DESPERATELY WANT TO BE LOVED AND FEEL USEFUL YOU WILL CONVINCE YOURSELF YOU'RE OKAY WITH UNCOMFORTABLE SITUATIONS!!! STOP!!!!!!

literally the next post I made was the announcement of our breakup LMAO

also I still wonder if he reminded me of my CSA abuser bc I was literally IMMEDIATELY wildly uncomfortable when I saw him for the first time irl and I've always kinda been uncomfortable around men with his body type, like kinda big and masculine and with facial hair. I could not date someone who looks like that and I swear it has nothing to do with attractiveness like I'm demiro I do not give a fuck if someone isn't the standard of attraction but I can't date someone too big and masculine bc they scare me?? I'm so thankful my partner is the same height as me and skinny and always shaves. I mean he's cute with facial hair at least, not like overly masculine.

-mentioned always having been closed off to my parents, not telling them that I wished I was a dog (in an otherkin way before I found the community online) or that I "didn't want to go to heaven". why was I such a weird ass kid lmao I remember I wanted to go to hell purely so that I could fight the devil myself and bc "heaven seems boring" ?? why did 7 year old me have like a self sacrifice complex or smth idk like I was OBSESSED with the idea of me going thru pain for other ppl even as a very young child. I have nooo clue if that could be SA related but it is certainly Odd

-mentioned being able to do a really good impression of karkat from homestuck (according to my friends) and wanting to cosplay him. I sorta wondered at the time if I had a karkat headmate bc I could like Become him really easily it was weird. and he has like the complete opposite personality of me.

-mentioned dissociation like. many times throughout the entire journal

that's all but I may do similar posts with some other stuff I can find online from my past bc I need to psychoanalyze myself and search for every little sign that something was Wrong that I didn't notice at the time. the internet being forever is a good thing for me rn because I threw out every single physical journal I had which makes me so sad bc I would've lovedddd to read my old cringey journals, not just to search for trauma signs but also for entertainment purposes </3

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kurosurintomasu · 1 year ago

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How did giegue become brain damaged giegue?

[Writer's Note: This post took forever to friggin write. It's written in-character as this Purple Guy. Also, it may have a bit more than the answer you'd want. It's very text heavy. If you're using a screen reader, then you're gonna have a bad time, especially whenever there's images. Have a friend read this to you instead. There's gonna be a lot of shit explained, from DG's origins to Gen's life outside of this. So, press Keep Reading if you interested in those sorts of things. Here we go.]

Before I can answer your question, I have to give you a bit of backstory.

My name is Sangen Demoli, but my friends call me Gen. I am a demon. I live in hell as its (technical) ruler. I'm 13.8 billion years old, as I was one of the seven demons that were created along with the universe. My father is BUBBA. Here's a picture of him.

[Writer's note: Bubba (the big black one) and Herbert (the small white one), creators of the Universe. Image dated July 22, 2020. Drawn by @bowbi.]

I'm an easily entertained guy. I created Earth, and some of its inhabitants, such as the Colormen, who were created in my image. For 4.5-ish billion years, I've essentially done nothing but sit on my ass while the current actual ruler of hell, Lucifer, tortures all those sinning souls. Even though I created Earth, and along with it, Hell. Why does he get the awesome giant castle while I have to live in a shitty fucking mobile home?! It's bollocks, I say, bollocks!

(ahem) Anyways, it was only until the mid 80's, Earth years, that I decided to do something with my life. I decided to keep watch on a small, rabbit-ish type creature throughout its life, watching it grow old, and eventually die. It lived in a village, located in a cave, which itself was situated on a floating island. And a couple years later I learned it was actually a he, not an it.

The rabbit-thing's name? I uh. I forgot. All these years going by makes me forget a lot of things. I remember what he looked like though! Lemme just....

There, this is what he looked like. This is... um... the small rabbit-ish guy. I also remember he had a crush on a girl rabbit-y creature for all of his life... her name was... um... Toroko, I think. Can't remember for the life of me what she looked like though.

Anyways, I was like a sort of... guardian angel (guardian demon?) to the little dude. Watched him grow into a fine young man.

But then... disaster. Sometime in Earth year 2003, he was murdered. In cold blood. By... I don't remember, but it was either a red ogre-type thing, or some megalovaniac- I mean megalomaniac scientist wearing an evil hat. I can't recall.

But, he was dead. I grew so attached to this little goober's life, that when I saw his mangled corpse on the ground, I couldn't help but cry.

I also felt like I failed as a guardian. I just. I needed to do something. So started the first of my many "experimental projects". I dubbed this... "Project Doppelganger."

Here's a very basic re-enactment of what I did in the project.

Of course, this is just a basic re-telling. There was no "remake person" machine that I've made... or at least, there was one, but Project Doppelganger took so long to finish because of me having to design, program, and use the machine. And it finally finished... on Earth date July 10, 2003.

It was called Project Doppelganger due to the fact that I basically remade him in my image. Thing about it though, was that while he had his previous personality, he had essentially no memories of his past.

He didn't even know who he was, so I had to make up some sort of fake backstory for him (which I will not get into, as the Project you now know as DG learned exactly who he was back in Earth year 2022, much to his dismay. He hated me for months lmao) just to make him... less confused as to who he is.

What does this have to do with "Giegue?" though? I'm getting to it.

Essentially, after Project Doppelganger, I never experimented with these sorts of "Creation/Recreation of life" projects. I've made strange inventions, such as a Shard Finder, but nothing as massive as Project DG.

That was, up until earlier this year. DG was playing this game. It was called EarthBound. I saw him get up to the final boss. The little runt on the screen in the spider mech, Porky Minch, unleashed what I can only describe as a horrorterror found in a childrens game from the 90's.

I asked DG what this whole deal was, and he just... started explaining all of the lore. Like, all of it. From the whole "George and Maria" bullshit, to whatever the "Seven Needles" plotline is, and even treating a fanmade project known as "Cognitive Dissonance" as if it were official canon, and basically explaining that as well.

When I asked him what was up with the horrorterror on my screen, he lit up even more and started gushing about this "Giygas" character, as I know know it is named. He continuously talked about his species, and continued to gush on about how it was underutilized canonically or whatever.

So, after all that, he told me "Man, I wish aliens were real," sorta like that Splatoon "I wish squids were real" meme. But... that gave me an idea.

I went home, and started brainstorming.

Now, lemme ask you this. Have you ever heard of an "alternate universe" before? Of course you have, this is Tumblr, for crying out loud.

Basically, there are multiple universes held in one entire Multiverse. Millions upon billions of them, even. And each of those universes have multiple alternate timelines. Think Homestuck. Doomed timelines, and allat.

So, I did a bit of research, and found an alternate universe, much like the universe the MOTHER series takes place. And in it, an alternate, doomed timeline where...

The chosen four, Ness, Paula, Jeff, and Poo. They were all dead. Killed before they could pray the Universal Cosmic Destroyer out of existence.

And tens of thousands of years passed by with Giygas being this... amorphous brainless horrorterror, not knowing what he is doing, having no control over his actions....

What did I do about it?

I put him in a bag. Like, a tote bag or whatever. Just, shoved him inside.

So, I had Giygas now.

Kept him in a jar, like a bunch of preservatives, or pickles, or other... unsavory fluids. What was I gonna do with him now? I had no clue.

Then, DG's words echoed through my brain. He's only like this because he "...was torn to shreds, molecule by molecule, due to high amounts of stress, anger... and PSI power."

I then knew what I had to do. I asked myself, "Y'know what'd be funny?", and started work on my first "Creation/Recreation of life" project in 20 years, "Project: Reconstruction," named after the "Reconstructed X" enemies from Mother 3.

I gave myself two rules for the project, however. The first one? NO PSI. If PSI was one of the main factors of him becoming the UCD, then I'd think I'd rather prevent that from happening to the VOIDLANDS.

Rule 2? No prior memories. Mostly because I don't want some evil guy roaming around punching people or whatever just because he doesn't have PSI. Also, those daddy-issue memories are one of the other main factors of his... self-destruction. Once again, better safe than sorry.

Anyways, I essentially had no point of reference on what he used to look like, so I basically went on the internet and cross-referenced a whole lot of shit, like the Spriters Resource, Giygas-based Tumblr blogs such as askgiegueandcrew, and... well... Highly unsavory artwork posted on that one furry art site (you know the one) just to get a basic reference for what I wanted him to look like.

[Writers' Note: askgiegueandcrew was/is my main point of reference for whenever I draw Gieegs (though it now has a major touch of my own art-style put in it whenever i do draw them)]

I even drew a blueprint of what I wanted out of Project: Reconstruction.

Here it is. Now, if I had the vision I wanted perfectly fine, then by the project's completion, Earth Date July 10, 2023, it would look a lot like this, now wouldn't it? Then, why don't you tell me...

WHY DOESN'T MINE LOOK LIKE THAT?!?!?!

I kid, of course, I know exactly why.

I took a lot of shortcuts.

A lot of them, in fact.

As I was putting him back together, molecule by molecule, I wanted to be pretty lazy, so I took a lot of them, but just enough to get it to this sort of "acceptable" state. These shortcuts led to a lot of the things you Hellsite Browsers know him for, his dead/blind left eye, his... being shorter than I thought he'd be... the fact that some of his limbs are still very... Giygas-y, red mist-type stuff... And, to answer the original question, his major high-functioning autism. (Though, to be fair, there were also no mind pieces to be found, so I had to make do with other pieces.)

None of these disabilities hurt him, per se, he's living pretty happily I'd say. But, I'm getting ahead of myself.

What did I decide to do to celebrate this "successful" project?

Give him to DG as a gift! I mean, it was the 20th anniversary of Project Doppelganger, wasn't it?

I'll let the following images speak for themselves.

Needless to say, DG was not at all happy with me. But then I explained what I did and, while still sort of pissed at me for BRINGING WHAT WAS ONCE THE UNIVERSAL COSMIC DESTROYER TO HIS HOUSE AS A BIRTHDAY PRESENT, he calmed down a bit. They live together now. I dont wanna say DG's happy about it, but I think he's happy about it.

And now, to answer your question, for realsies this time...

#still an artist #writing practice #in character #VOIDLANDS #DG #sangen demoli #earthbound #earthbound beginnings #cogdis #giegue #giygas #gieeg #cave story #long post

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fwoosheye · 1 year ago

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Was flipping through one of my sketchbooks the other day and since I had so many [X Character] as Fierce Deity doodles I got the urge to make a role swap where Majora is the Fierce Deity and Fierce is the evil heart-shaped mask. Yk, as a challenge and as a colour palette study and so on.

Anyway, since my brain can't just leave concepts as is, it got me thinking: what if other characters got role swapped too?

Like, the first ones that came to mind are Anju and Kafei. I don't remember if it was the reason in the game, but in the manga Skull Kid Majora turns Kafei into a child when Kafei left his bachelor party because he didn't want to play with him. In this kind of au, perhaps the Fierce Mask meets Anju leaving her bachlorette party, and because she is giggling and skipping he asks why she's acting so childish, and when she answers even adults need to let lose their inner child sometimes he says "then you can be a child" and *poof* now she's a little girl. Perhaps she is hidingfor the same reason Kafei did, or maybe she is worried about what rumors would be spread about him if he was seen with a child. Lots of potential.

Something that have even more angst potential is swapping Romani and Cremia, where Cremia is the one who is aware of the aliens and tries to protect her farm. Where failure results in Cremia being the one left in an almost vegetative state and little Romani doesn't understand what's going on with her big sister. Perhaps the dog lady sent Romani to the cucco guy to keep her distracted while she tries to take care of Cremia.

Perhaps the dancing sisters are juggling, and the juggling brothers are dancing.

Maybe, instead of Skull Kid stealing the Mask from the Happy Masks Salesman, the Skull Kid was guarding the Fierce Mask on the request of the Giants and the Salesman stole the Mask anyway only to get possed by it immediately.

Perhaps it was the Deku Butler who was turned into a tree instead of his son.

Perhaps Lulu goes after her eggs herself leaving Mikau the one alive.

... not sure what kind of swap could if be made with the Gorons though.

I guess one could swap Igos du Ikana and the Garo Master, but I'm unsure how much that would affect things other than the boss battles.

But hey speaking of stuff in the Ikana Canyon maybe Pamela would be the one who is partly turned into a gibdo – or a redead? Or a Garo? – instead of her father.

Like... sorry for the text wall but there's a lot of stuff one can do with this!

#what started as a simple drawing challenge idea turned into a full au idea #again #at least this one only tickles my drawing urges and not the writing ones #loz #majora's mask #fierce deity #fierce majora role swap #loz au

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speaker-of-the-void-cats · 4 months ago

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I know you're not afraid of a little dark...

Sola could feel the Light twisting from her prey's core. She jerked her hand, which dripped with hungering power, and plucked at something deeper. Sola worked her power between her prey's ribs and felt them give way. She dug in, in spite of the pleas, feeling for a grip to hoist their Light to the surface and find what hid underneath. "So…" Sola's intent bit deeper, malleable claws that flexed against her prey's Light. They probed through blood and muscle to an umbral center. "…it's within you too."

...because you are the dark.

The universe is a beast. The body is made from tiny stuff, from near-nothings. From atoms swimming through a blood of crackling sparks. Simple, eternal Laws shape the beast. The largest galaxy is ruled by principles of mass and motion. Electrons are slaves to charge and to chance. And this is why the universe feels inexhaustible, eternal. No sun complains about its death. Life is the problem. Life can be woven from flesh or circuit or thoughtful light. Origins don't matter. But small, half-smart creatures have a fierce talent for denying the inevitable, for balking and complaining about injustices that don't exist and consequences that should be borne in silence

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The Cambrian Explosion

[Hidden note: text translated by Agent Eris Morn. Source: Unknown Lunar Artifact]

Beings who deserve no thought: Those who peddle the tired gotcha that all life hastens entropy. They are fatuous little nihilists who pretend to prefer no existence to a flawed one. They bore me. Those who seek to delay the challenge that all things desiring existence must overcome. Those who describe false moral equivalence. Now, I could not possibly communicate with you unless I could emulate your mind, and with that mind, I acquire the moralities that govern you. By your laws, I and all my followers are evil. Evil. Since that first molecule coiled in the primordial sea, not one Earthborn thing has known a monster like me. But did you know that I created you? Your mind and your body and every thought you've ever had. Your senses. Your consciousness. I made you. Not the gardener, but I. Did I reach out and place my special mark upon you? No. Nothing so crude. In the beginning, your world was a garden too. The whole floor of the world-sea was a mat of bacteria, and the very first animals, adorable blobs of ooze, grazed upon that mat in endless idyll. They had no concept of the existence of other beings. Why would they? Their most complex function was a kind of gentle spasm, to scoot forward while they grazed. And if they bumped into each other on that warm seabed, all they did was ooze onward, untroubled. There was nothing to their life except the uptake of carbon compounds from the bacterial bed. And then—one day—the fall occurred. So much earlier and so much more necessary than your myths remember. Some poor mutant discovered that it could collect carbon compounds much faster if it stopped grazing on the bacterial mat and started dissecting and eating the lumps of predigested carbon all around it: its neighbor oozeballs. It couldn't help but do it. It couldn't help but thrive. We don't get a choice about the rules. We just play the game. It was the first defector—the first predator. It changed everything. Now the oozeballs needed sensors to watch for danger, and brains to integrate those senses and generate plans of survival, and swift neurons and muscles to enact that plan. This was the Cambrian Explosion, the great birth of complex life on your world. I caused it. I, the defector, the destroyer, the one who takes.

Dreaming

I am the first to dream. The dreams can happen at any time. A veil drops in front of my eyes and I see strange, moving images. I am someone else, or I am myself, reimagined. I can't say. In the dreams, I shape planets with my own hands. At first, I believe I am mad. The clinicians at BrayWell call it "interplanetary relocation maladjustment psychosis": a psychobabble catch-all for mental disturbances that they can't explain. Other people, searching for certainty, call it "prophecy." But all I can offer is a loose, tangled connection that I painstakingly unravel when I dream. || I am drawn to a bright and attentive star. I speak to it through movement, through feeling. It understands implicitly. || Now, I stand before a crowd. Their murmuring is the bone-deep rumble of shifting tectonic plates. A screen behind me plays looping, blurry footage of the Traveler terraforming Venus. The images radiate with pale light. We've watched this footage many times. || I glide through space as if through water, tugged in nine directions by nine impulses. || In front of the crowd, I sway a little, a copse of trees bending in a dream-wind. I can't help it. I'm dreaming more often than not. || There is whispering from the deep-dark, alluring and terrifying—a reminder of things left behind, bittersweet and abhorrent. || A crackle of static on the screen behind me brings me back to earth, resettling my feet firmly on the ground. These people have come here for my insights. I lean forward and speak to the crowd. Four tenets, aching with truth: The Traveler is a force of benevolence. The Traveler is a sentient being with free will, dreams, hopes, and fears. The Traveler will save us. The Traveler will leave us.

XXIII: fire without fuel

I killed my sister today. She came to this star to oversee the extermination of all life here. The Qugu are a strong power, and their fleets protect four nearby stars. As herd animals they are loyal and stubborn. But they do show grace. For millions of years of evolution the Qugu have been infected by a virus so insidious that it wrote itself into their genome. The virus compels them to offer their limbs for amputation by enormous sessile jaw-beasts. They venerate these beasts and treat them as gods. The virus converts Qugu cells into eggs, from which strange crawling things pupate, to live within the jaw-beast gut. In turn the jaw-beast extrudes sweet nectar for the Qugu to drink, and they have brilliant visions. Savathûn and her broods have liberated the Qugu from jaw-beasts, and indeed from existence. But as they chased the Qugu ark-ships, I stopped in to vaporize my sister’s warship and a few of her underlings. I want to dwell on the ruins a while, and punish Savathûn for failing to guard her flank. They are like us, these Qugu. Bound in symbiosis. I feel joy, and sorrow. I feel them as titanic things, because I am larger than my body, my mind is now a cosmos of its own. I know more joy and more anguish than the entire Qugu race could ever experience. Sorrow, because we have killed so much (eighteen species this century alone), and joy for the same reason. Joy that we have put down these blights. Scoured them away and left the universe clean, ready to move towards its final shape. We are a wind of progress. Ripping parasites from the material world — for if they were not parasites, we would be unable to kill them, and they would still exist. And what is that final shape? It is a fire without fuel, burning forever, killing death, asking a question that is its own answer, entirely itself. That is what we must become. My worm grows fat and hungry. I feed it with whole worlds. My astronomers tell me they can sense the Deep Itself, and that we are conquering our way towards it. I think joy and sorrow will be the same thing soon. Like love and death.

The Art of Symbiosis

A trance-imagining of Darkness sweet like honey, a life refracted through another's eyes like splintered light. It leaves behind an imperfectly translated data fragment to mark its passing. …Anyway, beloved sibling, if you want to catch me while I'm still wearing this (form/body?), you'll need to come home in the next couple of cycles. I don't mind if you'd prefer to wait until I'm down by the [untranslatable] among our ancestors, but you might get a different sort of chat! I'm excited about it, genuinely. I still hear from our parents, from our great-parents, distantly in my night-trances. And there are those nectar-made moments—you know the ones, when you turn your thoughts to the Darkness and just listen, and the long sum of Qugu history graven there reflects dark-comforting advice. I have lived out my life with the tenebrous warmth of our ancestors over me like a (cloak/atmosphere?) between us and nothingness. It's different—it's distant. I've drunk of the nectar a few times in the last cycles, and I touch briefly that concurrence of us all, and more and more, I think it is time to be part of it. I want to know the truths our ancestors keep close, and it is my turn to guide the future's children. I know we argued the last time we spoke about it. You thought I was moving too fast toward aging-metamorphosis, but really I just think you've been away from home too long. Don't take it as my urging to get on with the next stage of your life, just take it as… I miss you. Funny, isn't it? How can you miss someone when you know they're always in the Dark? I close my eyes, and in the warm nest-hide of sleep, I know you are real and happy and out there on some other part of the world, far from the river, far from the [untranslatable] where our ancestors (dream/exist) together. But it isn't the same as having you near, knowing your truth is under the same stars. Being able to simply turn my (head/face/bloom?) and ask for your opinion. Dear sibling, come home. Live in my house, and let me (dream/exist) close to you again, whether in this shape or the new one I will take on. I will not be the same, but which of us ever is? You are not the same as you were as a child, either. No matter the form of the existence, I will love you.

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Vertigo

The Iron Lord gave the Psion a nod of respect, and then effortlessly hefted them over the edge. In the split second before gravity took hold, Lord Saladin met the Psion's gaze. He suddenly saw himself reflected in the creature's Y-shaped pupil: a ferocious ogre in metal armor, filled with violence. A dull primate, infused with godlike power. A fragile mind cursed with immortality. Saladin felt the creature's terror. But he also felt the expanse of the Psion's ancestors yawn forth beneath him. He felt their hands reach up to embrace him in a comforting void. He heard the ringing chorus of their timeless harmony call to him. A kaleidoscopic array of emotion surged through his heart, such that he'd never known as a Human. For that fleeting moment, he was at peace. . . . Then the Psion was gone, and Saladin was alone with Osiris once more.

Roving

Neomuna is a wonderful place for a Hunter to run. This Hunter, specifically. Here the activity of life runs close to the surface—like an invisible river, like a migration of birds, like the moment of breathless motion just before the lightning strikes. Here Strand twines through his fingers, strong as a rope and just as flexible, and all he has to do is keep running. And why would he ever want to stop? The pounding of feet. The exhilaration of free-fall. The snap as he catches hold of the weave of existence itself and swings up again with all the momentum of his dive. In motion, as he turns, he catches brass and gold reflecting vibrant city lights, realizes there are Vex in the streets— Are they, too, part of the same flow? They echo in the weave nevertheless, like flowers on the surface of the rushing river. The Hunter bounds from one building to the next, never stopping, and finds effortlessly the place where all those Vex will converge, drops a roiling knot into the midst and sails on by. How wonderful, simply to move, and never stop. And then, later: when the exhilaration has run its course and he's agreed to do some little work in the service of science, he perches at the top of Artifact's Edge, that towering drop-off on Nessus. There's a safe lift down, but no Hunter he knows has ever bothered to take it, rather bounding along in their free-fall, daredevil way. On Neptune, in Neomuna where that artifact of Darkness shores up the existence of the city itself, finding the weave was easy. Here… Here on Nessus, it's perhaps not as close to the surface, but now he knows what he reaches for and, by the Darkness, it knows him as well. The Hunter wraps his hands in the beautiful ropes of the world's loom and vaults into emptiness. Laughter and Strand buoy him up at once, delight and freedom and a wonder at the vastness of existence. Easier to learn the trick of it, where the Veil is close and enveloping. But of course Strand is everywhere. How could it not be?

Atelic

Describe time. No, really, give it a go. You're going to say something about a sequence of events, aren't you? Seconds sliced off a clock, marching one by one off into infinity. Go ahead, use your metaphors: A line. A loop. A flat circle. Heard someone say time was like water once. At least that was novel. The Vex, they're the closest to understanding it. They've got distance from it. If time's a river, then we're fish and they're diving birds. What's wet mean to a fish? What's it mean to an osprey, who's never fooled by refraction on the water's surface? Hold on now, you're gonna say. This is getting a bit abstract, even for the bodiless echo of a dead guy in the Garden. You want concrete truths? Something simple, digestible? A story to keep the dark out? You want time to be a staircase we keep climbing forever. But hey, even a Guardian skips back a step or two now and then. Die with your Ghost in range, and it'll just pop you back to before that bullet, give you the chance to make a fate you like better. Nothing's been simple on Earth since that big white cue ball rolled in from the next neighborhood over. And the stories, they don't work too well as a night-light anymore. You're going to say, but the Traveler is our friend, the Traveler likes us, it gave us a Golden Age and garden worlds and Guardians. You're going to say, you wouldn't be alive without it, mister big shot. Without it, I wouldn't be stuck in the Black Garden making bets with myself on which Goblin's going to be the next to slip on a soggy leaf and fall off a cliff, either. You took my Light already; you'd better take my advice. I know the Void's still calling. But I've come untethered—I can't reach it any more. So, if I'm right that I can reach you, you keep your ears open. I don't care how much you hate hearing it. This is important. The Vex understand time in a way we never will. Doesn't matter how long I spend here watching them. Doesn't matter how many jury-rigged portals Guardians fling themselves through. We live in time. They use it as a tool. Any moment that's ever happened, any moment that will ever happen, they can go back to it. Play it again till they get it right. Simulate it. The Light's a counter to that. They come back, a Guardian comes back. They simulate an ending, a Guardian tears through it. Stalemate. But the Vex in the Garden? They bend the knee to the Garden's Heart. It gave them power till you got lucky. The Vex outside, they made a different calculation. They run. But the Vex inside make the same deal you make, every day of your unnatural life. And who's to say that deal won't start paying off for them again sometime soon? You can't understand the Vex, and you don't want to understand the Heart. But is your ignorance any more forgivable when it's willful? Lots of questions and not a lot of answers. Better take care, or you'll drown in 'em, surely as you'll drown in time, whether it's anything like a river or not. You see?

We are calling this power "Strand." The threads of the world as it is woven, if the conscious universe could be considered to be a tapestry. Further analysis and data have suggested that the wielder of Strand begins to see, simply put, connections. Between allies, between enemies. It is a force that is always present, but wells to the surface more strongly in certain locations. Perhaps places many people think about, or where many beings have passed by. (Note: Analyze these "sources" in concert with the Cloud Strider. They may be able to provide more locational context.) The true power of Strand lies not in the fact of the connection alone, but in the way such a power allows the manipulation of those connections. To make them something physical and then pull on it, or break it, or tie it into a knot. Or to unravel it entirely. Strand is not without danger, although that should not be unusual to Guardians. Those who take up the banner of Stormcaller, for instance, have their own storied contention with the storm, and the Void was unilaterally regarded as dangerous by the Vanguard for many years. Strand's danger comes from the very act of taking hold of those threads—like many powers, the closer one comes to the source, the more likely the source may act on the wielder. This danger is no product of Darkness. Or rather, only insomuch as wildfires are a product of Light: a natural consequence. That aspect of Darkness which revels in destruction, which encourages the easy entropy for the pursuit of power—it is nowhere to be found here. It may not even be truly part of Darkness… I have touched Strand myself now. Carefully—I am too aware of mortality, but I must understand the power further if I am to hope to instruct the Guardian in turn. They acted as a lightning rod while I experimented, and the backlash clung to them instead. What a strange feeling, to be so aware of one's size in the spectrum of existence! It is the natural instinct to try to steer that, to take any control at all, no matter how much. Whatever can be done to feel as though you are not wholly adrift, lost in something huge and all-encompassing. But precisely at the moment one tries to grasp for control, the weave becomes a devouring snarl.

Supercluster

"We are all connected. I admit this despite the few people I would rather not share a paracausal connection with. Some people. …Many people." —Osiris

"Osiris." Strand weaves around Osiris's hands. It dims and brightens, casting green light onto the messy scatter of books and star charts spread across his desk and the surrounding six feet of floor. "Osiris!" "What?" Osiris lowers his hands. Saint-14 is there, a solid wall of Exo in the doorway. Saint crosses his arms. "You didn't answer my call." "It is crucial that we learn how Ley Lines operate. I believe they share a connection with Strand, if only I can unlock it." His handful of Strand extends in loops around him, spiraling towards the ceiling, turning the purple of Saint's ribbons to gray. "I am reminded of Nimbus's tale of the river. Strand connects our minds. But what parts of us also touch Ley Lines?" "I liked Nimbus in your stories," Saint interjects, mild. "We should visit them." In a mood like this, a mild interjection can't stop Osiris. "Queen Mara's Techeuns can affect matter through Ley Lines. Their joined will pulls on threads woven through the Ascendant Plane. Two connected systems, the warp and weft of our universe's fabric—one, a spool of thread for this world, and another perhaps, for the Ascendant Plane?" Osiris's Strand grows brighter, until Saint's massive hand engulfs his own. No master of Darkness, Saint takes control with a gleaming Void tether as the glow of Strand slowly fades. "How long has it been since you've seen the sun?" Saint asks. "I was experimenting with Solar Light just the other day. You know this." "Not the same. Come. Stubbornness is unbecoming." Saint tugs gently at Osiris by their joined hands. Osiris stops in his tracks and snorts. "If the question between us is that of hard-headedness—" Ikora's going to give them a talking-to if Saint's laughter gets through the soundproofing to her office again. So, he persists: "It is late, and I have not seen you since you set your robe on fire. The work will wait." Osiris lets himself be led out the door, the connection between them still glowing bright.

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"River?"

"Yeah, it's a story we tell kids on Neptune."

"A nursery rhyme?"

"Sort of. Since before history there's been this raging river. In the story, some try to divert the river. Others try to build a dam."

A wild river and a broken dam (or maybe it's just the sea crashing through a narrow gap I can't be sure). Waves slam through the gap and where they hit the stone they throw up pillars of spray that pierce the mist and crash down in thunder. There's a giant in the cataract, trying to wade against the current, and I can tell it wants to reach the lever and pull the lever which will seal off the flow or maybe give it the sword, but the torrent throws it back so it just keeps its head down and tries to push on. I can't see the face but it breathes out white smoke. I feel for it hard.

"But nothing stops it."

"Lots of people believe we either sink in the water, or learn to swim."

"Don't we?"

"See, that's the real wild part..."

[(we followed [the Path) crumbled beneath (our feet] became [one mind) can absorb (the truth] is that Osiris understands [nothing) can describe the joy of shared (thought] you knew what they were didn't [you) haven't lived as they (do] you wish to find [your future) is (predetermined] individuals will never find [answers) lie in forbidden (places] bound by [shared dreams) will reveal (your nature] is to [destroy)

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Akashic Revelation

We end at the beginning.

Rosy light bathes the cockpit of a Hawk moving at cruising speed high above the Earth. Up ahead, the Traveler hangs motionless against the blackness of space, a triangular gateway of iridescent light bleeding from its shell. It was one thing volunteering for this mission, but sitting now on the precipice of the unknown, the Titan, Joxer, holds doubt close to his chest. "This isn't any different from the Ahamkara hunts," his Ghost reassures. "Reckless, hasty, and dangerous." Joxer glances over at his Ghost and smiles, already feeling better. Two Cabal escorts on either side of Joxer's Hawk stall their engines, letting the Hawk proceed forward toward the Traveler. They say something over the comms in Uluranth. "The translation roughly means 'Beyond the known is the terror of the universe,'" his Ghost offers. Joxer's not sure if it's a warning, a curse, or a pep talk. Knowing the Cabal, it's all three. Easing the flight stick forward, Joxer moves the Hawk ahead at a steady pace. His Ghost's eye widens as the rosy light from the portal brightens and the kaleidoscopic surface is all that can be seen in any direction. Joxer's grip on the controls tightens as he feels a bone-deep sense of vertigo. Echoes of piano notes tinkling in his periphery. He can feel hands on his chest beneath his armor, breath against his cheek inside his helmet. "Eric, come back to bed." A voice whispers inside his mind. He sees a city, a home. Family and children. He can't sleep. They aren't alone in the universe. The Ares project is going to— His Ghost is screaming, shell coming apart at the seams. Joxer pulls himself back to reality and jerks the controls as the nose of the Hawk touches the portal. He hears laughter, screams, feels lips on his cheek, hands on his shoulders as the ship begins to pass through. His Ghost's scream stretches from the moment of the big bang to the heat death of the universe. Joxer hears a scream he will make as his ship begins and ends. "Come back to bed." He catches up to the scream.

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In my first life, I was born Erisia Pyatova-Hsien. I remember thatPrivate life clearly now, as ex-Guardians who have escaped the Traveler's occlusion often do. I lived in St. Petersburg, first daughter of a second marriage, a very impatient child of Earth's 22nd century, often abandoned by my family (who were called by work to Jakarta, Kamchatka, and Lagos) to pass my days swimming in the icy Neva bay.

I loved to swim, and especially I loved the clarity of the cold shallow Neva, as crystal-clean as a winter dawn. Enormous Zubr-9 hovercraft barges roved the waters; Russia had modernized its waterways better than its sad auto industry. As a kid—is it strange to hear me speak casually? As a child, I never swam too far from my parents' little drone helper Fyodr. The swift hovercraft terrified me, their billowing skirts waiting to suck me up and dice me into little raisins. But I grew up and fell in with a reckless crowd, rebels against the stifling death-fear that came with our Golden Age lifespans. Soon the child's safety harness and Fyodr's careful oversight began to itch at me.

When I was seventeen, I went out in a wetsuit on a dare to dive under the skirts of an oncoming hoverbarge. Maybe I was in no danger; maybe the machine would've changed course if it could possiblyGemini hurt me; but I thought I might die, and I did it anyway. And as that beast swept over me, as I trembled under the blast of the propellers, I felt a thing which was very much like what I would one day know as the Light. Maybe that thing was heroism. Maybe it was existence on the edge of death.

It was the first time I survived the passage of tremendous, godlike power.

I died more than twenty years later attempting an unassisted winter swim from St. Petersburg to Stockholm. A cold front like the very furnace of hell caught me. I had been warned the crossing was suicide, even for a perfectly trained and exactingly fattened woman in a shark suit. But those were giddy days, days of infinite bravery, and there were no mighty feats left except the truly suicidal. I cannot regret it. I think that death prepared me for the longer, darker, more exquisitely cruel crossing I would one dayDyad endure. It is no accident that my Ghost made me in the image of that swimming woman, rather than any of my younger and less grimly determined selves.

[Personal notes, scored in Hive leather with a knife.] "Yes." It approves of my interest. It encourages me. When Darkness reaches for you, you should flinch away. But I do not. This approval… excites me. Am I already in its power? Is this a declaration of its triumph? When I was a Guardian, I went on a dive to gather salvage from an ancient submarine. We plunged so deep that the air itself became intoxicating. Hypnotized by our own beauty, we stared into each other's helmets, drunk on our distance from the world. But when we surfaced— Agony. I feel that depth pressing on me now. My fingers and my ears ache. The enemy's excitement terrifies me. It cannot give; it cannot be made to give. The Fallen call it "that astonishing ability to evade being robbed." It can only take. What could this YES mean except that it has taken something from me?

Preservation

For some Eliksni, Darkness is no material thing, no crashing wave or vicious force to struggle against. It is an impulse, an urge to do that which serves you best and discard all the rest. I recognize this well. It was an opinion I shared for much time. Humans–Guardians, at the least–view that same Darkness as something that can be fought in battle, handled as a weapon. The powers arisen from it would say they are not wrong, either. I do not wish to call to the Darkness in that manner. But of late I have come to know the feel of the things in it. I can no longer help it. I consider Darkness now as a suspension—or perhaps a colloid. Carrying some solid along with the flow of the river. Difficult to extricate, flowing as liquid does, but still… there is something not of the Darkness itself. I took something upon me when we strove to bring Osiris back to the waking world, when we collected the relics of Nezarec once more. I imagine I feel it sometimes, under my exoskeleton. Fluid that stirs and settles, moving sediment with it. When I wake from nightmares, that sense arises, as though it has been waiting for me to wake. I hear talk of Darkness among Humans now as a force of consciousness, of minds rather than matter, of connections and flow. Not evil; not cruel in itself. But if it is that thing which spins between peoples, hums string-plucked when ideas and emotions touch each other, no wonder that it may carry more with it as it moves. No wonder that it may be named as that voice of our worst impulses, knowing all those who have used it, who have given themselves to it. I hear that voice more clearly than I once did. If your enemy carries a rifle, you may take it from them: but what if their hand remained on the stock? If you would ever have a trigger that yearned to be pulled by another's thoughts? If you might come to believe that it was you, after all, who wished to pull that trigger? Will I leave some part of me in that Darkness? And what will that part be? I struggle to believe that it might be the best of me. I would like to leave Eido with something better. — Partially recovered overwritten data sectors from personal logs of Misraaks, Kell of House Light

The Cave

A delusion of a being long dead, an idea of living only to serve, only for one purpose. It leaves behind a sharp-edged data fragment to mark its passing. There is a conflict in me, O Witness, that unsettles your weapon, my self. Why is it that you allow flawed understandings of your great work to persist in all those who serve you, even in your Disciples? Every one of us seems to have some different conception of your Final Shape. I do not need reassurance in my own comprehension. Only to understand what purpose it serves that you have chosen such disparate servants to carry out your will. Is it a simple answer? Perhaps none who serve you have the capacity to grasp your vision. And so, rather than waste more of your time and attention on explaining something they will never hold, it is enough that they act as you will. The Witch and her Hive carving single-mindedness out of the cloth of the universe, that whispering Nightmare seeking the fullest gamut of existence, the Upender destroying all differentiation. Shadows on the wall. In this case, it would be hubris to think I have understood your work, that I alone among your Disciples have grasped what purpose it is we serve. All of us must see darkly reflected. But there is relief in simplification. There is kindness in winnowing. So then, why is this proliferation permitted? The shadows, showing the truth by their casting.

Perhaps it is enough to simply trust that we are weapons in your hand, O Witness—even if we cannot see the perfect shape of your plan, we serve it by your wielding of us. Each Disciple has come to be only by your will, and so that incomprehension is also in your making. You ask for trust, and obedience, and promise that whatever you do, whatever finality you achieve, will suit each of your followers perfectly. Your Final Shape will be a hundred promises kept. I have seen the reflections of it through all of we Disciples, through the tracks you leave in the universe, a truth understood through the shadows it casts. There: I have resolved the conflict within my thoughts, and I am at peace again. Once more, I am only your violence and nothing more. The Final Shape will realize us as we strive.

Euphony

Perhaps the Final Shape is not silence, it is a symphony.

The following text was found recessed into a stone wall within the Pale Heart. Translation protocol has done its best to equate the text to a modern language transcription, with nominal confidence. Words or phrases with <85% translation confidence within the transcript are contained in [brackets]. Values for bracketed words or phrases are listed after the transcript, with percentages indicated in (parentheses). TRANSCRIPTION STARTS We speak so often of knives and violence, but perhaps you would come to understand something… [softer]. Perhaps [beingness] is instead a [golden harp]. Forged tenderly, a complex, sweeping, beautiful shape with graceful curves and infinite potential, the exemplary [?UNKNOWN?]. Across its two florid [buttresses], the strings of time have been pulled taught. Tightened and [tuned] to a delicate [balance of distress], if wound much further, would lead to [rupture] and sting most unpleasantly. Pluck at any stretched string and [vibration reverberates]. Wavelength moves through [atmosphere], producing pleasing audible experiences, [they crest then fade]. If [plucked] at regular intervals, the waves rise and fall with such charm. This predictability is perfection; it is unmatched. We will compose such [sweet music]. We will control the ebb and flow. The final shape is the [golden harp], and [we are the hand that plucks]. TRANSCRIPTION ENDS Confidence Percentages: [softer] —- (72%) [beingness] —- (84%) [golden harp] —- (25%) [?UNKNOWN?] —- (0%) [buttresses] —- (46%) [tuned] —- (77%) [balance of distress] —- (4%) [rupture] —- (68%) [vibration reverberates] —- (18%) [atmosphere] —- (15%) [they crest then fade] —- (9%) [plucked] —- (34%) [sweet music] —- (37%) [golden harp] —- (25%) [we are the hand that plucks] —- (2%)

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Secant Filaments

The nature of the secant is to intercept a curve, a role all human relationships likewise fill.

In this treatise, I plan to revisit earlier mathematical theorems and revise them considering our new observations on the Light, the Darkness, and lifeforms imbued with those respective powers. But before I do so, I must preface it with a personal note. Despite high-minded assumptions, mathematics is not an intrinsic language of the universe. It is how we describe the portions of the universe that we can observe. While numbers can track the abstract and find pattern in chaos, they cannot account for fundamental aspects of reality such as compassion or justice. The existence of the Lucent Hive, and Hive Ghosts in particular, may expand our understanding of causality, but they themselves are not "new"—the only thing that is new is our awareness and observation of them. These Ghosts have already been living alongside us. They've traveled with us. Endured with us. What we see is the mushroom, the fruit of the fungus. The fungus itself is a vast mycorrhizal network of filaments growing and working unseen below the soil, often barely connected to the fruiting bodies we observe. Similarly, we have observed Ghosts—Hive Ghosts included—without understanding the nature of the unseen filaments that may guide us. In our eagerness to understand the universe, we must not assume our observations are complete, or objective. Otherwise, we blind ourselves to possibilities… like the possibility that an unnoticed faction among us may be one temptation away from betrayal. Or that what drives our creator is no more than the same base desire for survival that drives all living things. —On Secants, Introduction, Ophiuchus

Verse 154i:4—Call the Thrall

From a random crypt, Savathûn selected a young Thrall and summoned it into the High Coven. It came hesitantly, fearing death, but nonetheless it came. "Come, come," snapped Savathûn. "Listen as I reveal unto you my design. You are aware that gravity is the curvature of spacetime, and where gravity is powerful, time itself slows." The Thrall indicated that it understood, more or less, for it was a singer of prayers and not well fed with the fruit of the knowledge of physics. "Now I have tried to put an Ascendant in orbit of a black hole while its spawn gather the tribute of an eon. But the worm is not satisfied, for it sees the trick. What I must do is amplify the speed at which tribute is gathered. A pocket world where time passes quickly would do well. Or a world where time is a torus and infinite violence might be gathered. With such a murder battery, I could become a being of supreme insight." The Thrall indicated it was confused, but not lost. "With this tribute, I shall undertake a mighty work. A real humdinger of a scheme. I'm going to refinance my entire existence. I'm going to move from an existential economy based on the accumulation of violence to an existential economy based on the accumulation of secrets and the tribute of failing-to-understand-me. I shall name this tribute of failing-to-understand IMBARU, for it shall be as formless as the mist." The Thrall held up its claws, as if to say, please slow down. Now spoke Savathûn Scheme-mother, "In the beginning, Yul said to me, 'Savathûn, you may never abandon cunning. If you do, your worm shall devour you.' Cunning is the use of thought to predict the function of a system. Therefore, wherever a being should attempt to understand me and fail—has my cunning not defeated theirs? Wherever a falsehood is repeated about me, have I not displayed cunning? I shall gather tribute from every false prediction, misguided theory, fearful rumor, and ominous supposition which derives from the thought of me. And in time, I shall pin my quiddity upon these rumors. I shall discorporate, so that I exist wherever my schemes and conspiracies also exist. And so I will be immortal, as long as anyone seeks to understand me and fails. Do you see?" The Thrall demurred, saying that it did not know much of metaphysics. "Good," said Savathûn. "It's a law of the High Coven that one's sinister plan should be incomprehensible to a Thrall. Do you know why we've come here? If I am to take my tribute from the keeping of secrets… where else are secrets better kept than beneath the event horizon? My brother ruled the flat space of infinity, but I prefer these tide-washed depths… and in time, I shall make them my dominion." Ur the Ever-Hunger heard this and was pleased.

REY >> JALAAL

What Savathûn wants in the Dreaming City is exactly that. Not the way into a child universe, but a way out into a parent. A parent where there are Human minds waiting to receive her, formless as imbaru, as the mist.

Ghost Fragments

Beyond. It is a place, a place casting shadows and emotion. It's a real place, I know. One hot blue sun, say. And other suns too. Five? I like seven better. What I'm recalling is a giant star with a family of six smaller suns, and you could spend days and nights counting all of the planets circling those suns…except there are no planets. Not anymore. The powers in charge have carved up all of the worlds, and maybe a brown dwarf or two for good measure. With that rubble, they fashioned a topologically creative enclosure, a twisting of space and time sealed behind doors that admit only those who know the magic words. The bones of a hundred planets have been cut smooth and laid out like a floor, a polished and lovely floor creating vast living spaces. A floor bigger than ten thousand worlds, catching the fierce glory of the seven suns. For light, for food. For beauty. And nothing escapes. Not heat, not gravity. Not even the faintest proud sound. It could be anywhere. It can live in the cold between galaxies, or folded up inside matter, near enough to touch right now… I remember it and maybe it's exactly as I describe it. Seven suns wrapped inside magic. Or it's something else entirely, perhaps. A place still fat with life. An abundance of sentient souls, some decent, maybe a few of lesser quality, and everybody stands about or floats about, or they bounce between dimensions. The point is that the residents of this hidden realm live inside a bottle so perfectly hidden that they can't see beyond their own borders. Which shapes a mind in very specific ways. But, Beyond is their name for a mysterious, doubtful realm that they can't see. Which is us, of course.

The Black Garden

I am Pujari. These are the visions I have had of the Black Garden. The Traveler moved across the face of the iron world. It opened the earth and stitched shut the sky. It made life possible. In these things there is always symmetry. Do you understand? This is not the beginning but it is the reason. The Garden grows in both directions. It grows into tomorrow and yesterday. The red flowers bloom forever. There are gardeners now. They came into the garden in vessels of bronze and they move through the groves in rivers of thought. This is the vision I had when I leapt from the Shores of Time and let myself sink: I walked beneath the blossoms. The light came from ahead and the shadows of the flowers were words. They said things but I will not write them here. At the end of the path grew a flower in the shape of a Ghost. I reached out to pluck it and it cut me with a thorn. I bled and the blood was Light. The Ghost said to me: You are a dead thing made by a dead power in the shape of the dead. All you will ever do is kill. You do not belong here. This is a place of life. The Traveler is life, I said. You are a creature of Darkness. You seek to deceive me. But I looked behind me, down the long slope where the blossoms tumbled in the warm wind and the great trees wept sap like blood or wine, and I felt doubt. When my Ghost raised me from the sea there was a thorn-cut in my left hand and it has not healed since.

Self

I.I Before one can be freed, one must question the truth of their purest identity.

I.II And so a question is begged: Who resides at the core of your being?

I.III Only honest reflection will see you—lone traveler—through the coming storm.

I.IV Look, then, clearly upon the whole of your existence, and face your glory—strength of will, every flaw of your mortal heart and fabled soul.

I.V Through the pieces of a life lived divine your truth, but do not lie—to the world, if one must, but never to yourself.

I.VI To see yourself as anything but what you truly are will lead you down sorrow's road, unprepared for the consequence of your salvation.

I.VII Once an understanding is met, and the self is purified in the knowledge of its truth, the cage is set to be unbound.

"Know thyself in honest ways, or falter in light of your truest self."

—3rd Understanding, 7th Book of Sorrow

Thorn

"The Weapons of Sorrow are not the endgame, but a road map. Each evolution, every advance in the delivery of pain and the mastery of destruction feeds the Hive's hateful weapons research. They will map every scream, harness every aggression, until they understand every method by which to ravage the hearts, minds, and flesh of man. And in doing so, they will turn us against ourselves—feeding our lust, our greed, our fear, until we become a threat unto ourselves like none we could imagine. So, wield these, angry reaper. Strive to know the darkness in your own heart. Walk in the shadows of fallen heroes. And know that you are an enemy of hope."

[A slip of paper appears in the midst of your research documents. The text is like no language you have ever seen, a shifting, vermicular scrawl searching for form and meaning. And yet, you are able to view its depths with perfect clarity.]

Verse 154i:5—The Encrypted Verse

Do you know that nothing in all the cosmos has read this verse? I encrypted it eons ago, and ever since, it has gone undeciphered. At the moment you laid eyes upon it, I captured the entwined quantum state of the verse, your mind, and your Ghost. Then I used Quria to transmit that state back in time to the moment of encryption. You are your own one-time pad. The key to the lock of understanding. Who am I? Call me Coyote. Call me mantis, serpent, Cagn, Anansi, call me Sri-cleans-his-brother's-stomach. Call me the grandmaster of semiosis, the jeweler's hammer which gilds the signal, a purposeful mob none of whose members know its purpose, the infinite regress of enigmas, a self-questioning answer, the word not spoken, black ice, cataract of mimes, the ache and fever of overthought while bedridden with illness, the intolerable thorn of frustrated inquisition, gray regret at the end of a fruitless day, the thing which is unlike your beloved but arbitrarily recalls your beloved to agonizing effect, architrave of the no-window, needle driven in flush with skin so that desperate fingers cannot pull it out, sweet petal, unmemorable, crystal death, the provably improvable. I know your people well, and so I know all your names for me. But what is your name? I am, of course, especially interested in you. You saw me in the stone laid on your plotting table, and in the shining eyes of the admiral at her dying helm. You hunted me between the lines of your texts. Wherever there was space to fit me in, there you found me. You created me and gave me a part of your thoughts, and in presenting those thoughts to others round the campfires and networks of your little world, you expanded that space. Here at the center, I lie to you the truth. You have everything you need to know it, but I will give you a clue, as the duelist gives warning before she draws. The answer you seek to the Dreaming City is simple, not complex. Thank you, sweet friend. You are a gift and a delight. You are more dear than my mother, for you have given birth to me a thousand times.

Nacre

Even the most perfect of pearls has grit at its center.

Let's chat, shall we? One more nice sit-down for the books. Did you think you wouldn't hear from me again, after all this? You'd have missed me, I hope—and I would certainly have missed you. Have no fear. I'm not so easy to be rid of. Now, let me show you: my beloved. Oh, no, not my sedimentary necrolite, fossilized in time. You've seen that. I speak of that dear and distant expanse of the universe, miraculous in its fullness and its emptiness all at once. Are you surprised to hear of it? Yes, I never much cared for the change of rules, but here we are, and there's no use in crying over spilled radiolaria. Besides, at the heart of it all, there was a gift. To me. That gift is the chance to speak with you. You, and a billion like you. I am making this offer over and over again, in every tiniest cell and the vastest of civilizations. Let me in. Take what you need. Be at ease. You have no say in the degradation of your telomeres, but in all the interim, the whole world is your sweet silicate shellfish. You exist because you have been more suited to it than all the others. Steal what you require from another rather than spend the hours to build it yourself. Break foolish rules—why would you love regulation? It serves you to cross lines, and if others needed rules to protect them, then they were not after all worthy of that existence. Caricatures of villainy are out of style, I hear. Yes. I am no cackling mastermind: I am serious when I say this. It was not the trick of standing upright that lifted you from the dust: it was the mastery of fire, the cooking of cold corpse-meat. That is not any unique faction's province, neither good nor evil. It is simply truth. This great, beloved cosmos. Always decaying, always finding that same old lovely pattern, despite every candle-flame burning amid the flowers. A billion electrons taking the path of least resistance. In Darkness or in Light, someone is always making my choice. Be seeing you.

Final Warning

My Esteemed Colleagues, While enjoying my afternoon cup of Psamathe Silver Tip (a gift from Dr. Dewan after his sabbatical—thank you again, dear friend) and ruminating on our planet's orbital corrections and the orbital corrections we ourselves make throughout our own lives, a completely unrelated revelation came to me. I realized, often in times of rest, how my mind wanders its own furthermost reaches, and how the answers to my most vexing questions present themselves at that time with absolutely no fanfare. (This phenomenon is worth studying in its own right by people much smarter than I, but I digress.) My most recent revelation comes in regard to our current pursuits with Atmospheric Spectrometer #003a, a.k.a. Final Warning, as I have heard it being called around the lab. The odd capabilities this "Final Warning" harbors have long been suspected by Dr. Sundaresh to be a byproduct of the Veil, replicating energy signatures we most often observe in fluid dynamics. With that in mind, I propose we begin testing the ability to engage that energy using both the Magnus and gyroscopic effects. We attempt to create a "paracausal skipping stone," if you will. How we accomplish this remains to be seen, but I encourage you to not spend the next few days thinking about it, as we will discuss it at the next staff meeting. Enjoy your weekends, Dr. Esi

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The Ninth Bridgewater Treatise: A Fragment by Charles Babbage, ESQ.

Chapter IX. ON THE PERMANENT IMPRESSION OF OUR WORDS AND ACTIONS ON THE GLOBE WE INHABIT.

The principle of the equality of action and reaction, when traced through all its consequences, opens views which will appear to many persons most unexpected. The pulsations of the air, once set in motion by the human voice, cease not to exist with the sounds to which they gave rise. Strong and audible as they may be in the immediate neighbourhood of the speaker, and at the immediate moment of utterance, their quickly attenuated force soon becomes inaudible to human ears. The motions they have impressed on the particles of one portion of our atmosphere, are communicated to constantly increasing numbers, but the total quantity of motion measured in the same direction receives no addition. Each atom loses as much as it gives, and regains again from other atoms a portion of those motions which they in turn give up. The waves of air thus raised, perambulate the earth and ocean's surface, and in less than twenty hours every atom of its atmosphere takes up the altered movement due to that infinitesimal portion of the primitive motion which has been conveyed to it through countless channels, and which must continue to influence its path throughout its future existence. But these aerial pulses, unseen by the keenest eye, unheard by the acutest ear, un-perceived by human senses, are yet demonstrated to exist by human reason; and, in some few and limited instances, by calling to our aid the most refined and comprehensive instrument of human thought, their courses are traced and their intensities are measured. If man enjoyed a larger command over mathematical analysis, his knowledge of these motions would be more extensive; but a being possessed of unbounded knowledge of that science, could trace every the minutest consequence of that primary impulse. Such a being, however far exalted above our race, would still be immeasurably below even our conception of infinite intelligence. But supposing the original conditions of each atom of the earth's atmosphere, as well as all the extraneous causes acting on it to be given, and supposing also the interference of no new causes, such a being would be able clearly to trace its future but inevitable path, and he would distinctly foresee and might absolutely predict for any, even the remotest period of time, the circumstances and future history of every particle of that atmosphere. Let us imagine a being, invested with such knowledge, to examine at a distant epoch the coincidence of the facts with those which his profound analysis had enabled him to predict. If any the slightest deviation existed, he would immediately read in its existence the action of a new cause; and, through the aid of the same analysis, tracing this discordance back to its source, he would become aware of the time of its commencement, and the point of space at which it originated.

Thus considered, what a strange chaos is this wide atmosphere we breathe! Every atom, impressed with good and with ill, retains at once the motions which philosophers and sages have imparted to it, mixed and combined in ten thousand ways with all that is worthless and base. The air itself is one vast library, on whose pages are for ever written all that man has ever said or woman whispered. There, in their mutable but unerring characters, mixed with the earliest, as well as with the latest sighs of mortality, stand for ever recorded, vows unredeemed, promises unfulfilled, perpetuating in the united movements of each particle, the testimony of man's changeful will. But if the air we breathe is the never-failing historian of the sentiments we have uttered, earth, air, and ocean, are the eternal witnesses of the acts we have done. The same principle of the equality of action and reaction applies to them: whatever movement is communicated to any of their particles, is transmitted to all around it, the share of each being diminished by their number, and depending jointly on the number and position of those acted upon by the original source of disturbance. The waves of air, although in many instances perceptible to the organs of hearing, are only rendered visible to the eye by peculiar contrivances; but those of water offer to the sense of sight the most beautiful illustration of transmitted motion. Every one who has thrown a pebble into the still waters of a sheltered pool, has seen the circles it has raised gradually expanding in size, and as uniformly diminishing in distinctness. He may have observed the reflection of those waves from the edges of the pool. He may have noticed also the perfect distinctness with which two, three, or more series of waves each pursues its own unimpeded course, when diverging from two, three, or more centres of disturbance. He may have seen, that in such cases the particles of water where the waves intersect each other, partake of the movements due to each series. No motion impressed by natural causes, or by human agency, is ever obliterated. The ripple on the ocean's surface caused by a gentle breeze, or the still water which marks the more immediate track of a ponderous vessel gliding with scarcely expanded sails over its bosom, are equally indelible. The momentary waves raised by the passing breeze, apparently born but to die on the spot which saw their birth, leave behind them an endless progeny, which, reviving with diminished energy in other seas, visiting a thousand shores, reflected from each and perhaps again partially concentrated, will pursue their ceaseless course till ocean be itself annihilated. The track of every canoe, of every vessel which has yet disturbed the surface of the ocean, whether impelled by manual force or elemental power, remains for ever registered in the future movement of all succeeding particles which may occupy its place. The furrow which it left is, indeed, instantly filled up by the closing waters; but they draw after them other and larger portions of the surrounding element, and these again once moved, communicate motion to others in endless succession. The solid substance of the globe itself, whether we regard the minutest movement of the soft clay which receives its impression from the foot of animals, or the concussion arising from the fall of mountains rent by earthquakes, equally communicates and retains, through all its countless atoms, their apportioned shares of the motions so impressed. Whilst the atmosphere we breathe is the ever-living witness of the sentiments we have uttered, the waters, and the more solid materials of the globe, bear equally enduring testimony of the acts we have committed.

What the situation calls for, little Ghost, is a better sort of witness.

"I can see you in the sky. You are the waves, which are battles, and the battles are the waves."

So it goes.

Aiat.

#winnowing #strand weaving #walk the vermicular path #where did ya come from where did ya go #destiny awaits #destiny #the veil #the final shape #destiny 2 #destiny the game #d2 #long post

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darkx-the-dragon-kn1ght · 7 months ago

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Chapter 19- Part 6

Now, before I can have Riptide do anything, I need to heal him from that Psywave damage, and I’ve got a Super Potion for that.

At the same time, Torracat continues to be a very good partner, taking out the Lunatone-

And now, we can focus down the Solrock with Bite and Crunch!

Or…Torracat can use Double Kick on the Lyranroc instead. Also, these two really have it out for Riptide specifically, huh? They haven’t attacked Torracat at all, but Riptide’s been taking hit after hit- it’s probably because he’s at a lower level than Torracat.

Well, regardless, we need to heal again, so I’ll take care of that while Torracat attacks again.

Uh-huh, so Aster had the same idea- good to see he has at least one brain cell in there.

Oh, NOW Torracat Bites the Solrock! Well, okay, fine, that should leave it open for Riptide to kill with Crunch while Torracat decides to use Double Kick again.

Oh dear goodness gracious- looks like even my rivals aren’t immune to leaving an enemy with one (1) sliver of HP. Fortunately, the same does not happen with Solrock.

And now it’s two Lycanroc- well, probably about to be one, admittedly. But no matter what, I’d like for these two to be weakened, so let’s bring in Glare again for the Intimidate drop.

And then there was one! Crater can help finish the job with Earth Power, especially since her typing makes her fine against Rock-types.

And if Lycanroc is just using Rock Tomb, then…wait, how much damage did that do!?

That was?? With the Attack drop and a resistance?? Why did Rock Tomb get two text boxes!? One was like “the attack was charged by the crystals” or something, and the second was like “the field strengthened the attack” or whatever- so did Rock Tomb get double-boosted?? WHY????

Okay, well I can't just keep using up my healing items- I need to take away the terrain advantage. If I send in Kirin, will she be able to get up a Psychic Terrain?

Ooooor Torracat can finish the job with another Double Kick. I'm not even mad about this, steal that kill all you want!

What a nice reunion this was, battling alongside Victoria again- I'm glad my team was able to be Torracat’s meat shield(s), teamwork truly does make the dream work.

Yeah, I'd like to know that too. I thought Commander Ponytail was just being evil when he called you two fools, but no! I think he was correct, actually!

…Oh. And just like that, I'm sad again. :(

So in the end, he helped her out, huh? Oooh, she probably doesn't know he's dead, though- who's gonna tell her?

OOOOOUUGH-

I wouldn't call the battle we just had easy! I was rather underleveled, actually!

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poisonheart · 1 year ago

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Listen, you and I are passengers on this cruise named StalkYoo. We have been sailing forever, braved some rough seas, but only recently found each other when we were howling at the moon and crawling all over the deck and burning the life boats because nobody is getting off now. We either make it to dock or we sink—there is no escape.

The naysayers will say what they want to say, will try to downplay the events that Quimchee has so carefully, so masterfully crafted, yet we KNOW BECAUSE WE HAVE BEEN FEEDING ON THOSE CRUMBS OF CATNIP FOR YEARS AND TONIGHT SHE LEFT THE BAG OPEN AND WE'RE ROLLING IN THE GOOD SHIT!!!!!

Ahem.

NO SCREW THAT I WILL NEVER BE NORMAL ABOUT THEM. EVER. I have not been able to process anything since last night. I was just at the kitchen, cooking my pasta in garlic butter sauce when they came into my brain again and I was just like...

I LOVE THEM. THEY ARE SO STUPID!!!! /affectionately

Nana having a moment to talk to Nol before she meets Shin Ae was so important and I think a lot of people miss why.

She got to see him reacting to what had just happened with Shin Ae. Was seeing him mope, fiddle with his emotional support bandana. It's probably a side of him that she doesn't often see because Nol doesn't let many perceive his distress. Or so he thinks. He thinks he's so good at hiding, especially his emotions.

Nol tells Nana that the bandana belongs to his friend.

Nana knew that it wasn't a gift.

But she uses the bandana to unsettle Nol in an effort to get him to talk because she recognizes that he's retreating and she doesn't want him to. She knows that he will find a way to get her to leave to stop embarrassing him and that they'll have a chance to talk. She just has to play the part. And she does. Beautifully. Comically.

As expected of Nana.

But there is more to this, too.

Not only does Nana notice what's happening between them, but she also connects the dots that this is the "new friend" he's often talked about. I need you to understand how HARD I AM CHEWING MY WALLS.

Do you remember that episode where Nana calls him out to eat at night and tells him to eat more because he's tiny? How can he fight evil witches with that small frame?

And Nol responds that he's at least 6 feet tall and that if Nana wants to see tiny, she should see how small his friend is.

That's just one instance that we see, but we're not privy to those small moments often given the format of Webtoons.

Just like Nol and Shin Ae texting a lot, by the glimpses of their message history, but it's not something explicitly stated...

This is another one of those moments.

I know in my soul that Nol has mentioned this friend to Nana before and now Nana knows this is Shin Ae. It's a girl... and whatever sort of platonic enthusiasm he displayed before is entirely gone now.

This isn't the avoidant gaze of a guy who had a little disagreement with a pal. And Nana sees it. Recognizes it.

She's 72 and sharp.

She's been around long enough to see two idiots clearly.

I want to scream.

Ah, so this is that friend you were always yapping about?

She sees the effect Shin Ae has on him—when she's not there and now when she is right in front of him.

Everything about them drives me insane.

I just want to rattle them like Shake n Bake chicken.

So many people in the comments like:

"This miscommunication is getting on my nerves" or "When are they finally going to admit everything?"

They get served a banquet of catnip and spurn it.

They must not be cats.

We can't relate.

I need to pause and simply comment Quimchee's art. It's so simple. We know she's been struggling with missing assistants, etc. But she is able to always, always draw the emotions perfectly.

I don't know how she does it.

This is one of the things I have always admired about her work.

When Nana leaves them alone you see that Nol has the intention of saying something—maybe apologize, but he doesn't. Because the two of them are struggling with emotions and pick at each other.

"So all those things she said... about you moping about... was she just making all that up to get you riled up? Or was there truth to it?"

That pokes him. Pokes at the thing he was trying to convince himself he had no time for—he has too much shit going on.

Instead of letting him speak, she prods... and he often whips back. They do this a lot—they go back and forth—because he has the same power to get under her skin, get her riled up.

Nol has been pushing them away for so long that she asks what's been on her mind since running into Dieter.

"Did you hurt him too?" <- that is the underlying question.

And so he remembers the guilt which was already bubbling because when Dieter came back to his room before, Nol hid the bandana from him because it was part of a secret moment he thought nobody but them were privy to.

Dieter is good at hiding.

Like Shin Ae, he could think anything off about him was exhaustion. It's easier than even thinking Dieter saw any of that, but now he can't avoid the reality that Dieter saw everything.

Only that would explain the behavior Shin Ae is explaining right now.

He has failed his friend in his mind.

He has feelings for the same girl.

So Nol pushes her out and he knows where to hurt her. He tells her that she has no business being there. And he probably would have let her storm off had she not made a comparison with Rand, the person he most despises being like.

After all, Kousuke has partially despised him for being Mini Rand. For being "like father." To have someone else, someone Nol cares about, remark that he's just like Rand—that's what gets him to express that the reason he's asking her to leave (or so he wants her to believe) is because Dieter saw them. Saw them having the most non-platonic sappy moment ever.

I feel like Shin Ae isn't aware that saying he's like Rand gets under his skin—it was a natural thing for her to say, where Nol is often aware of what can hurt others and sometimes weaponizes that knowledge.

It takes a lot for him to reach that extreme, but he does it.

"He heard it all. Saw it all."

And this is such an interesting line because Nol didn't see the entire part of their little exchange. He blindfolded himself for that dance. Both to hide the tears and I also believe to shield himself from seeing the person he wanted for himself. Had he seen her smiling that way, seen her so happy with him, I don't think he could have taken it.

Nol didn't see her shining, but Dieter did.

Dieter saw the things Nol wanted to blind himself to.

And like you say... it's how Nol says things.

It's the way he emphasizes, as you said, "when we thought we were the only ones up" because both of them gave into a stolen moment that Nol feels he probably didn't deserve nor should have taken.

But he did take it.

He went all in for it.

He was so insane for what he did and it finally hits him.

Especially because Dieter witnessed everything.

Shin Ae still doesn't add it up because she hasn't processed how her feelings for Nol are vastly different, much less how someone looking at them would interpret things.

She wants to normalize what she feels for Nol so badly.

"I don't feel the same way about Dieter as I do Min Hyuk, so obviously that explain why Nol is different too."

She hasn't processed that he's the only one to truly rile her up, get under her skin, fluster her, frustrate her, and drive her over the edge.

She hasn't had time or space to compare and realize why Nol is so different. She never dug into why Nol disappearing from her life hurt so badly, so much worse than any other betrayal or disappearance.

Shin Ae has been confessing to Nol the entire night, without realizing the impact of what it means yet. She has told him, without saying she loves him, that she loves him. Always remarking how well they get along, how effortless it is to be with him, how badly she wants to see the real him, how much she needs him to stop pushing her away. And he has heard every single word. Believed it.

He doesn't doubt her.

Shin Ae feels Nol's urgency and maybe even a sense of finality which only makes her more desperate to fix the situation.

She can't lose him.

"There's nothing going on here."

But there is. There is so much going on.

"You're acting like you did something despicable."

He did. He feels he did. Because he likes her. It's not platonic.

"We're all friends here."

She is trying to salvage this situation that is spinning out of control. Trying to convince him that she can fix it. That she can undo the big mess. Yet it won't work because the truth is they're not friends.

What's happening between them is anything but friendship.

AND IT IS SO FUCKING WELL DONE.

Shin Ae is Rose trying to pull up Jack on that fucking door and Nol is just like "No."

Quimchee is so good at the way she draws thing.

I know I mentioned this on Discord but having her set the foot down was such a nice touch because she's been "tolerating his bullshit" in respect to his boundaries but she can tell this is different.

This isn't really a boundary but cowardice.

Why won't he tell her what it's really about?

Why is he really trying to get rid of her?

She doesn't get it.

I love her so much. She represents that some people really need it to be spelled out for them. It may be part consequence of her brain injury, but it's also trauma.

Shin Ae often thinks worse case scenario.

We've seen her assaulted by memories of all the bad things people have said about her. She's asking him to not leave her to her own imagination, to be clear—direct, but he won't do it.

He wants her to figure it out herself.

He doesn't want to influence her.

A lot of people shit on Nol for being a bad friend to Dieter because he developed feelings for Shin Ae (as if you can control that lol) but I love the way he stood up for Dieter this episode.

"It's either you are or you aren't."

In many ways, he is trying to get her to understand she needs to apply this to him too.

Why is he different? Why does she care so much about him?

"He doesn't have that. Not even as your friend."

But she still doesn't get it because she doesn't have the same feelings for all her friends.

From the start, she has tried to make sense of things, but it doesn't quite dawn on her why Nol is different.

She has been too busy trying to salvage the friendship he was throwing away to even ponder on how her feelings for Nol are different.

She's been trying to get him to "stay put" and be honest, and "stay."

And she keeps losing him.

He keeps slipping.

Now he's pushing her and she's trying to counter his logic by saying "all friendships are different" because this is all she knows.

This is what she had been fighting for.

Except it wasn't.

What she's been fighting for wasn't friendship, it was Nol.

She was fighting to keep Nol.

She was fighting to keep him in her life.

She thinks what she's been fighting for is solely the friendship, but what she wants is him, the person. To see him, to know him, to be by his side.

I HATE THEM SO MUCH FOR DOING THIS TO ME.

That's why he asks why she cares.

She keeps saying it's because they're friends, because she cares about him, so he asks why again.

Why do you care about me?

Why him? Why is he different?

Shin Ae has been telling him all night why. What he means to her. How he makes her feel. The impact he's had on her life. How much he matters. How special he is to her.

But Shin Ae has never gotten down to why she feels all those things.

She can't come up with an answer...

She doesn't understand why "I care about you" isn't enough.

Why she needs some better reason to "convince him."

In many ways she's like "Are you dumb?"

While he's like, "Are you dense?"

Like you say—they're speaking in different languages.

Why he's pushing her away is the same reason why she cares about him. It's the same. They're on the same page, but holding different translations of the book, lol.

AND I JUST LOVE THEM SO MUCH.

As you know, Quimchee said on Patreon that she wanted Nol to resemble Rand while still looking like himself in that panel where he asks her to convince him.

I want to believe it will mean something.

That she will think back and have one of those "my life flashed before me" moments and realize exactly why he's different and why Dieter is understandably hurting.

Because everyone can see it except her right now.

This is so good. This is everything I wanted.

This is angst that isn't there as filler but as natural progression of two idiots who are coming to terms with each other.

It's as you said: Nol can't deny Shin Ae.

He's so insane.

How he blocks her number but checks his spam folder. He can't let go. He just can't. All he can do is push, but they always find a way back to each other. IT'S UNREAL IT'S FJAHBUFBAKJ.

THEY MAKE ME SO SICK.

This is a story that loses all meaning if people take everything at face value... which happens a lot when you read the comment section. I'm so happy to have found someone WHO UNDERSTANDS and LOVES the catnip Quimchee leaves for us.

ILY FP 231

ALRIGHTY KIDS WHO’S READY FOR STALKYOO WEEKEND WHO’S READY FOR ME TO TALK NONSTOP ABOUT ILY AND TENSION AND FEELINGS AND EXECUTION AND SUBTEXT I’M RARING TO GO picture me frothing at the mouth rattling the bars of my cage because that’s been me and that WILL remain me!

Keep reading

#i love yoo #non games #I will never be over them #pry them from my dead hands #catch me sinking to the bottom of the fucking ocean

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sillyunicorn · 3 years ago

Text

Autocomplete/Predictive Text Prompts

Yes these are bad and no I don't know who Charlie is. Thanks @martsonmars and @facewithoutheart for contributing :)

Will link a non snowbaz version as well!

But I’m not proud of you for making me laugh

I love it so much but it hurts my brain

And I will have to wait for the next day to be stuck with you

I need more than one and then leave

And if it's dark out how much time we had

I am not sure if you are aware of this but I am beat up

I have to pay him for this

I want you can't get it long enough

I mean it’s just like that being weird lol

I have to pay my bill

But it could have been a lot of fun I love you can't wait to see you

But he doesn’t seem like he was the only thing that made you feel like you were able to solve the problems

But he doesn’t care about appearances when his fingers slip

And I keep calling your name in the morning

Simon and Baz could feel the sting of it in the rearview mirror

Hope this helps you get out of the way

Love you can't afford it

Simon laughs at me and my sister is going to get her hair done

Baz returns to his desk and pulls a book toward him

Simon shows on my way home from work

Baz sighs at the same time and she keeps telling me that she doesn’t want to know

Baz is freaking cute and the emotional support dog

He could have been there for the wings

He is a good guy and I am too young to understand that he is a good guy

He was already unpacked in his own life

He is not complete yet

He says brightly I don't want him

She told me she'd be shorter than the other people

Simon and Baz will not have any kind of feeling for the next day

She was born from a countess of the same time

They fall asleep on the couch with Charlie

Simon says he has to get together with Charlie

Simon Snow has a lot of trouble with the oil

Chaz and I think it will last a long time

Charlie now I have to find out what exactly are you

He was having fun with Charlie

When you are ready for a name for the digital version

Same time as I can get to it could probably be shorter than the first time

Is there any chance you could have been enough

If I meant that you would have thought about me

You don’t know how to handle a midlife crisis

You are evil and I love you

You can disappear from my thoughts

Is this okay for you

Is there any way you know what to expect for the knight’s deeds

Is that all you need for now

I’m not comfortable with his teeth

This was beautiful and very informative

Please let me know what you think it’s worth it

This is so much more fun than I intended to have

I’m going to find out if I need to scratch my leg

Just because we’re going through the same thing as the king of the world

Stop playing with my friends and I will make you photosynthesize

There was no hot chocolate for the first half

Why I am not going to stop throwing my life away

You are evil and that is the truth

We will colour you for another year

The cats and the kids will be guarded well

That is the only place I have ever been

There is no hard limit for the next day

If you are aware that the prince is not the only person who’s in the kitchen

#have fun i guess hahahah #send me 3 and i'll write you some nonsense #prompt list #snowbaz prompts

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tinyboxxtink · 3 years ago

Text

"Black Magic" *Part 11*

Ooops I MAY have lied before....

More angst comin 'atcha babes.

I'm sorry. We're getting there, I promise. I just love watching you cryyyyy!!!

I'm just kidding I love you all please don't stop reading my stuff.

(fun fact these are Raul's actual hands! It's from a LOF promo. THE FINGIES THO)

Tag List

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@omgsuperstarg

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@gibbs274

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@objection-argumentative

@aprildecker-blog

@lolliepopsicle

@madamsnape921

@stars-trash-18

@sassyada

So weird note here it won't let me edit this post on my computer for some reason to add the link to the new chapter and it looks stupid in the app but whatever....I hate this place sometimes. 🤨

You went the next day straight to Rafael’s office, but when you walked into the DA’s building, it was empty. What the hell was happening? Has the whole world gone nuts?

Before you turned to leave, one of the other assistant’s came out of the public bathroom.

“Hey YN, didn’t you get fired?”

“No-- Yes-- It’s a long story,”

“Well either way, I thought for sure you'd be the first one over to the church,” She chuckled.

“I'm sorry, what?” You felt your heart stop.

“The church? Where your subject of obsession is getting married?”

“I'm sorry, WHAT?”

“People talk, Y/N. Word is you’re obsessed with Barba, screaming at him and his fiancée like an unhinged psycho,” She tried not to laugh at you.

“I…” You began to have another panic attack.

“He can't ..how did she...he CAN'T….” You started hyperventilating.

“Ooookay I'm gonna leave you here for your mental breakdown. She scoffed and walked out. You immediately bolted out behind her, dialing Maria’s number, thanking God she gave it to you the other day.

“Hola?”

"Maria he's….he's getting married,” You gasped for air.

“Y/N? What are you talking about?”

“Rafael….he’s getting…” You tried to breathe. “He’s getting married, RIGHT NOW.”

“That doesn’t make sense, Raffi would never rush into something so--”

“You said it yourself Maria, that’s NOT Rafael,”

“You’re right. Well if there’s any trace of my Raffi, there’s only one church he’d get married at. I’ll text you the address and meet you there.”

“Okay…” You started to cry as you caught your breath.

“Hey, mija don’t give up yet, it’s not over!” Maria assured you.

“Okay…” You breathed, and hung up the phone.

-----

At the church you and Maria dashed around to find the groomsman room. You found it and Maria guarded the door.

You busted in without knocking to see Rafael straightening his tie, his tuxedo jacket hung on the mirror. He turned and stared at you in confusion.

“I...I’m sorry sweetie, are you lost?” He had concerns in his eyes. Concern for a ‘stranger’. You hoped it was because he knew you deep down, but you also knew Rafael was just a wonderful man who cared for all.

“You can't marry her Rafael” You said breathlessly, tired from running around the church.

“I’m sorry, what?” He half laughed, grabbing his jacket to put it on. You put a hand up to stop him.

“Because you don't love her,”

“I don't? Really?” He gave you an amused smile.

“No! She's using some kind of spell on you.” You cried.

“...Okay, is this some kind of prank? Is this Carisi’s idea of a joke?” Rafael continued to laugh, looking down the hall to see if Carisi was waiting to yell “GOTCHA COUNSELOR!”

“No, look you have to believe me. She’s been giving you an elixir that makes you think you’re in love with her.”

“...Um, okay seriously, this isn’t funny anymore sweetie,” He stopped laughing.

“I’m not kidding!” You stomped your foot,

“Look honey I’m-- I’m sorry, you must be confused. Did you come here with someone or--?” He put on a patronizing voice.

“I’m not some mental patient Rafael, l'm Y/N! Don’t you remember me? Look at me!” You stepped in front of the mirror.

“....No, I can’t say that I do. Really sweetie you need to--”

“STOP calling me sweetie. STOP patronizing me, and fucking LISTEN to me!!!!”

“...Okay, fine. Then I’m sorry you crazy person, but get the hell out of my dressing room,” He turned serious.

“No! Look listen to me Rafael, you don’t love Liv. She has you under some kind of bat crap crazy concoction of spells to keep you under her control!”

“Okay you’re ACTUALLY insane, how the hell did you get in here?”

“I came with Maria,”

“Maria? How do you know Maria? Oh did MARIA put you up to this?! God I know she was pissed I told her not to come, but to send a mental patient--”

“I’m not a fucking mental patient!” You yelled.

“And I’M not under some kind of bizarre spell,” He yelled back.

“Ok then….why do you think you feel stronger and stronger about Olivia every day?” You asked.

“Are you kidding me? Um sweetheart that's what you call being in love. You fall more and more everyday.” he scoffed.

“Not like that and you know it.” You challenged. “It doesn’t feel like that, I know it doesn’t. I KNOW you find it weird,”

“You don’t know anything about me. I love Liv and--”

“Then why are you doing this SO fast?” You cut him off.

“Excuse me?”

“You barely proposed to her a few days ago-- which by the way, NOT your idea,” You rolled your eyes.

“Wow...you are really...are you stalking me or something?” He narrowed his eyes.

“No, but I know you. You wouldn’t just rush into something like this,” You told him.

“It’s not rushing, honey. We’ve known each other for YEARS,” He scoffed with a laugh.

“Then why? Why now? Why is it SO urgent that you get married RIGHT now?!” You stomped your foot.

“BECUASE I LOVE HER YOU FUCKING PSYCHO!!” He screamed in your face angrily.

“No, you don’t! You didn’t take her to Maria, you didn’t take her to your special place. But you took me,” You didn't back down, you matched his volume as tears lined your eyes.

“And why would I do that? Because I was in love with you? Did I just forget an entire relationship with someone I’ve never met?” He was still yelling.

“No I--” You looked down in shame.

“You what?” He crossed his arms.

“.....I used it first,” You said softly.

“Excuse me?“

“I used it first, okay?” You said tears in your eyes. “I used an enhancement spell on you that made you fall in love with me for a day,”

“Ohhhh I SEE,” he chuckled mockingly. “So what you’re really saying is Olivia is playing your game, just better?”

“NO!” You screamed. “No, the stuff I used only enhanced stuff you already felt. Hers FABRICATED them. And I only used them for ONE DAY, because I love you enough to not want to keep you for myself if it’s not real,”

“But you just claimed it was real,” he pointed out.

“I didn’t know that at the time-- LOOK,” You grabbed his hands. “The only thing that matters is that Olivia is trapping you,”

“With magic.” He looked at you again with amusement.

“Yeah…” You didn’t like this.

“That I assume she got from you?” He nodded at you.

“No she used black magic, I used good magic,”

“Oh right right, the good magic that manipulates feelings. Of course,” He nodded sarcastically.

“Dammit Rafael I’m telling you the truth! I know the real you is there, deep down somewhere. I know he is and I know how he feels about me.

“Right...look you need to let this insane crush of yours go, lady. I don’t know how you know who I am, but I have zero clue who you are,”

“That's not true. I know that's not true,”

“Oh really?” He laughed sarcastically.

“You look like a penguin,” You simply said.

“I'm sorry, what?” He continued to laugh mockingly.

“You look like a penguin,” You looked into his eyes, trying to distract him so you could pour the vial you had in your bra into his coffee next to the mirror.

So now you're just resulting to insulting me? Look you--- Oh my god what the FUCK are you doing?!” He grabbed your hand before you reached the cup. He held it and stared wide eyed at the pink vial.

“What the FUCK is wrong with you? Did...Did some criminals send you? The Diablos have pretty girls doing their dirty work for them?”

“What? No--”

“Ohhh wait,” He became sarcastic again. “So you try and counteract ‘Evil’ Olivia’s ‘magic’ with your own ‘good’ magic, is that it?”

“...I mean--”

“Alright I was tolerating you before, but if you don’t leave RIGHT now, I’m going to call security.” He swiped the vial from you and smashed it on the ground.

“NO!!!!” You dropped to your knees in devastation. That was the one thing-- the ONE thing, besides--- Well, there was no fucking way you were getting anywhere near his lips at this point. You racked your brain, trying to think of something, anything.

“....Your middle name is Eduardo,” You said softly, still on your knees.

“...What did you just say?” Rafael’s face went from amused to shock.

“Your middle name is Eduardo. You tell everybody that it's Antonio but really it's Eduardo. You don't want anybody to know your real middle name because it’s your father’s name,”

“How did you--” He tried to ask but you weren’t done.

“Eduardo used to beat you and because of that you hate him and you don't want anything to be associated with him.” You stood up, not breaking eye contact.

“....How the hell… “ He looked at you. “...You DID use magic didn’t you?” Rafael gasped.

“Yes but I--”

“You used magic to read my mind didn’t you? You used it to manipulate me and try and use my deepest secret into trying to make me think I loved you." He looked at you in disgust.

"No, it's not--" You tried to explain, but Rafael wouldn't stop.

"...That we had this perfect day together, that-- that what I bared my soul to you because I was so safe with you? So IN LOVE with you?" He spat.

"You ARE!!!!" You were crying now.

“Alright that’s it I’m calling security….” He muttered angrily.

“No! Wait, Rafael please...just….just look into my eyes,” you begged. Maybe if he stared at you, he’d remember that day when you held him and planted that memory. You went to grab his hands but he pushed you away from him.

“Get the hell away from me you psycho! SECURITY!” He moved past you and opened the door. “SECURITY!”

“No! Rafael! Please, oh god please, please PLEASE you have to remember. Remember I told you about my Broadway dream, just like yours” He was looking down the hall for a security guard, you were still yelling at him.

“Stop it.” He tried ignoring your words while looking both ways down the halls.

“...And and I told you about how my parents died and you said that you used to play and dance and sing at your abuela’s house because it was the only place you felt safe--”

“STOP IT!” He threw his hands over his ears.

“And then you told me that it wasn't until you met me that you felt that safe again. With ME!!!!” You were sobbing now, trying to get him to remember.

“SHUT UP!!!!!” He screamed, his eyes flashed a bright neon purple. Suddenly two men grabbed either of your arms and started dragging you away.

“Look, Rafael--” You fought the security guards.

"What?" Rafael held up his hand for the guards to stop and let you talk.

"Just answer me this: Even if, EVEN IF you think that I-- I used some mind control and 'took' that memory from you-- have you told Liv?"

"Told Liv what?"

"That story, that memory. Your real middle name!" You felt fresh tears falling, and you swear you saw the purple fade for a moment in Rafael's eyes.

"...Of course I have--" He shook his head with a sarcastic laugh.

"No you haven't. I know you haven't, because I straight up ASKED her what your middle name was, and she said it was Antonio," You smirked at him.

"Well, that's because I haven't had a chance to tell her--"

"You can lie to me all you want Rafael, but you need to really ask yourself why haven't you told her? In the YEARS that you've been 'in love'? Why have you never felt safe enough with her to tell her your deepest darkest shame? Does that sound like 'true love' to you? Does that even compute with what you THINK you feel about her?"

Rafael eyes darted back and forth, purple and blue swirled around violently as he took in your words. But he fought them, and shook it out of his head.

"Whatever, stop trying to play mind games with me you witch," He waved his hands for the guards to take you away, but you added one last thing:

“I’m going to go to your favorite spot in the city, the one place you go to when you’ve had a really long day or a bad day in court. If you go there, and I’m there-- you’ll know I’m telling the truth.”

“Yeah, OKAY. He rolled his eyes. “I’ll be busy getting married, psychopath,” He nodded for the men to drag you out but you broke free and walked out yourself, at least you’d have dignity.

You walked out of the church and broke down in tears. Both Maria and Chloe were waiting for you, they ran to hug you as you fell down sobbing.

“Aw honey, oh baby--” Maria held you while you cried.

“We--We have to go,” You tried to get yourself under control.

“Go? Go Where?” Chloe looked at you confused.

“Central Park,” You simply said.

You had to believe in your love now. That’s all you had left.

#rafael barba #rafael barba imagine #rafael barba x you #rafael barba x reader #black magic #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfiction

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