#the lotus eaters: *exist*

[official-english-major]

One of my favorite subtle details in Epic is how, at the start of Wouldn't You Like, you would expect Odysseus to be on his absolute highest guard after all the unexpected hardships throughout the trip and the conversation he just had with Eury. And yet when a mysterious voice from the trees says "I must say, what a brilliant speech you gave," you can practically HEAR the smirk in Odysseus's voice as he asks "who goes there?"

Bro is exploring a strange island while his crews' lives are in danger, but he also LOVES receiving a compliment on his yapping skills

[sinistersinita]

"You, my child. The Great Indifference wants to take."

Genuine Operator and Drifter reaction:

[xelitzenith]

I find the warframe reddit comment section a swamp but their are rare gems.

Like this.

(Couldn't take a screenshot cuz the comment was to long and I was lazy)

Link to the comment

https://www.reddit.com/r/Warframe/s/1wW1qm5ts8

"I’m pretty annoyed that the Tenno are roped off into this category of “forever children”. That completely disregards the character growth that happens through the story. Learning from, and then surpassing your mentors; growing free from the blind following of your motherly figure, and working from your own autonomy. There’s a reason the Lotus hasn’t really been a focus in a lot of the recent quests. The Tenno are coming into their own. Heck they’ve even been through child birth at this point. What at this point makes them not adults other than the body they’re stuck in? At VERY least they’re late-teens at this point.

This is what always annoyed me with the introduction of the Drifter. He is treated like adult Main Character, but in reality he is a completely different person. He did not go through the same trials of being a child soldier in a universe at war, nor suffer the emotional torture of Ballas. He grew up fighting for his life in duviri, sure. But that’s its own story, which would have shaped him in its own way.

I would make the argument that the Tenno are more adult than the drifter. The Tenno have had to make hard choices, and deal with real world consequences. They’ve had to moderate themselves and account for the actions and feelings of others. Lotus, Ballas, Teshin, The Queens, the Orokin, etc. Meanwhile the drifter let his emotions form a literal fantasy realm to save himself from reality. He secluded himself within is psyche and endlessly fights with his own internal struggles. Yes he breaks out from the paradox during the new war, but even that experience is short lived and only a drop in the bucket compared to the vast amount of character growth we’ve personally experienced with the Tenno.

The idea that drifter is morally “available” for romance while the Tenno aren’t is a disservice to the characters, and the story. It’s a surface level excuse so they can add a romance system without bringing up the deep moral questions. It’s easy to say “the grown up can romance, the kids can’t”. But it’s a lot more complex when you realize those “kids” are who we’ve grown up alongside for 10 years, whose salt we’ve seen. But the “adult” is a man-child barely out of the womb.

This post will probably get downvoted to hell, and probably get comments about being a peado. I’m not advocating for that at all. But I am asking the question, when are immortal characters considered adults? DE seems to think the Tenno aren’t there yet; fair enough. But when will that be? We have seen them mature over the quests. They can’t be written off as children forever if you want your character’s growth to mean anything."

[sannyo-appreciation-posts]

[leolithe]

Just need to... C... Calmly. Mention the things I love about The Lotus Eaters quest art.

This is the first Lotus Radiant appearance in an official piece of key art. And she looks fucking regal.

Let's talk composition.

Wally and Lotus. Two sole subjects separated by the vastness of Albrecht's Void manifestation.

They're placed in a way that suggests that they are indeed opposing forces, but without the drama and action as, let's say the Arthur and Excalibur freeze frame we saw during TennoCon.

Wally - an embodiment of the Void, of the Sentient poison - bellows in a challenge, but Lotus doesn't flinch. She has her back turned to us, but she doesn't look intimidated. She isn't running, she isn't fighting. She stares directly at Wally. It's like she has no reason to be afraid.

In fact, the purple fog towards and throughout the bottom half of the image gives the impression that Lotus herself, or what she represents, is an equal force against Wally.

This is further strengthened by her pose. She is standing tall and calm. Her hands are clasped in front of her, at ease, a bit like how default Lotus or Margulis does it, but here, she feels more relaxed.

Lotus is not defending herself. She is not fighting or issuing a challenge. She stands deliberately at the very point of the stone floor, almost as if she's presenting herself to the Void.

At the end of TNW, she told us that she "saw nothing" when Wally burst out of the portal, even after she struggled so hard to close it. She denied Wally's existence, multiple times even... and here she is facing Wally again. But this time, she's composed and collected. Fearless.

So the question is: What changed? Between The New War to The Lotus Eaters, what was it that allowed her to overcome her fear?

Will we uncover the roots underneath it? Did she truly manage to weed it all out? Or was her "fear" even fear at all?

[celestialvoyeur]

💛💙SPIRK FIC REC - MY FAVOURITES💙💛

As a follow up to my recent post about how few fics make it to my favourites list, and how special they are to achieve that distinction, I decided to share my current list.

I’ve shared some of these individually in the past but here you’ll have them all together. 

If you've read any of these already then I'd love to hear your thoughts on whether you loved them as much as I did! 🥰

(NB: these are not listed in any order of preference. Mostly it’s the reverse order in which I read them)

Leave No Soul Behind by whochick Words: 258,951

AOS, AU Canon-Divergence. Spock, Kirk and the other valiant members of the Emergency Personnel Ambulance Service fight to save lives and turn the tide of the ongoing war against Nero and his fleet before it’s too late. Such a beautiful slow burn for Spock and Kirk.

Atlas by distractedKat Words: 135,529

AOS. Follow on from 2009, Kirk, Spock and the rest deal with the aftermath of Nero’s attack and rebuilding after the decimation of the ‘Fleet and Academy. An exciting tale with twists and turns involving black ops, bad-mirals, action, love and fierce loyalty.

The Lotus Eaters by aldora89 Words: 93,594

AOS. Stranded on a planet together, with multiple dangers and very little hope of rescue, Jim and Spock have no choice but to rely on each other to survive. Spectacular plot, amazing world building, fabulous original character and an epic slow burn Spirk love story!

With Your Feet on the Air and Your Head on the Ground by flippyspoon Words: 39,188 @flippyspoon

SNW. A phenomenal Spirk fic in which Kirk is stuck in Spock's mind while the crew work to find a way to retrieve his body. A wonderful getting to know you/falling for you hard tale. Wonderfully written and highly entertaining.

Evolution by Rhaegal (RhaegalKS) Words: 149,293

AOS. Covering the first year of their 5 year mission, this is totally flawless. The character voices are perfection, the prose spectacular. The whole thing plays like an AOS movie. It’s phenomenal.

Emotions by LadyRa Words: 35,569

TOS. Spock gets drugged on a shore leave and is overwhelmed with its effects. Kirk tries to pick up the pieces. A beautiful, and wonderfully grounded, story of realising how much they mean to each other.

And When the Bond Breaks by LadyRa Words: 24,631

TOS. Spock takes out a shuttle to investigate an anomaly and returns to an Enterprise that’s not his own. Time travel shenanigans with such emotional depth that it will traumatise you in the best way. Stunningly good!

All Our Tomorrows Come Today by flippyspoon Words: 18,156 @flippyspoon

SNW. A newly introduced Jim and Spock accidentally get a glimpse into the future and see what they’re going to be to each other (a.k.a. Spirk’s Greatest Hits). A stunningly told story about finding the great love of your life. 

I Won't Make That Mistake Again by Moreta1848 Words: 69,402 @jennelikejennay

SNW/TOS. An epic story detailing Spock and Kirk’s love throughout their lives, beginning from their meeting on Pike’s Enterprise (SNW) and continuing on to an eventual  Generations fix-it happy ending. Wonderful!

No Going Back, No Before by spirkme Words: 78,486 @spirkme915

SNW/TOS. Timeline shenanigans, spies, twists & turns, pining, angst, sacrifice and so so much love!

The 1,000 Hour Sleep by spqr Words: 27,227

SNW. Jim’s been infected with a pathogen that means he can’t sleep, but it he doesn’t he’ll die. Cue Spock and his Vulcan telepathy helping Jim to achieve the sleep he needs, while they get to know each other within their shared mindscapes. A sweet and exciting story about falling in love and overcoming your own inner demons.

First Best Destiny by Ophelia_j Words: 387,733

TOS/TNG. Such a very special fic. Epic in its scope, it covers the entire timeline of Spirk from their very first meeting through to a  clever and satisfying Generations fix-it ending. It provides extra scenes, additional dialogue and internal monologues to expand on existing canon in a really compelling and effective way. Truly this is my new TOS canon.

The Steadfastness of Stars by itsnatalie Words: 61,566

AOS. After Beyond, The crew investigate sudden climate change on a frozen planet and find more than they bargained for. The perfect mix of great plot, fun original characters, action, mystery, world building and deep deep love.

Let Forever Be by gunstreet Words: 43,446 @gunstreet

TOS. A really compelling character study of James T. Kirk. An excellent companion piece to City on the Edge of Forever. Exploring what Jim and Spock got up to, and all they had to overcome, while trying to find Bones and their way back home.

Time After Time by spaceisgay (ChancellorGriffin) Words: 138,921

SNW. Kirk spends a 6 month rotation on the Enterprise as part of his command training. OK, if there’s a favourite of my favourites then this may be it. It’s such a stunning version of their love story, with a beautifully constructed plot. It runs the emotional gamut from moments that will have you laughing out loud to moments that will have you in floods of tears. 

milk and honey by spaceisgay (ChancellorGriffin) Words: 28,651

SNW. Kirk and Spock meet for the first time when they wake up in a prison cell together. A really fun, and extremely clever, version of the ‘aliens made them do it’ trope. It’s intriguing and funny with a real depth of feeling throughout.

The Promised Land by gunstreet Words: 58,260 @gunstreet

TOS. A story that explores the time Jim and Spock spent apart between the end of the 5 year mission and TMP. It’s a beautiful story of reunion and renewal of love. Sometimes achingly sad, but it’s worth it for the happy ending.

Again, if you've read any of these already then I'd love to hear your thoughts on whether you loved them as much as I did! 🥰

[unfunnyaceartist]

FUCK IT IM MAKING AN EPIC THE MUSICAL SONA AU MWAHAHAHAHHAHAHAH

Roles and who theyre taken by:

Odysseus: Ace (me because I say so)

Penelope: @thereiswasabi

Telemachus: @bennylikesstars

Eurylochus: @mr-mangrove

Polites: @chaos-ace

Background crew:

Cyclops 1: @acreepylittleguy

Cyclops 2:

Lotus eaters:

Zeus: @pondoya

Athena: @candy-ac3

Hermes: @bugzheadquarter

Poseidon: @neptunestoast

Aeolus: @moshieee-but-evil

Aeoluses lil gremlin dudes: @luxeriixx3 and

Circe: @pink-pkmn-trainer

Circes nymphs:

Prophet dude I forgotted his name: @unnamed-idi0t

Sirenelope: @sunifixation

Background Sirens:

Ares: @dia-smthidk

Hera:

Aphrodite: @bredrawz

Apollo:

Hephaestus:

Scylla: @anxiouschoco

Calypso: @glitchyk (Kay gets to be pretty woman who tries to win my affection)

Let me know anyone I forgot and Ill TOTALLY add them!!! Theres so many its hard to recall haha.

if me being odysseus is self centered I DONT CARE let me be pathetic man

One of these may already exist but oh well

ALSO THIS IS JUST FOR FUN NOT POPULARITY OR ANYTHING I JUST WANNA DO SILLIES

Designs below:

OdysseAces design:

[ddarker-dreams]

Nexus II.

Yandere Blade x F Reader.

Warnings: Descriptions of Blade's body regeneration ability, Blade is just kinda weird idk, some spoilers for his backstory. Word count: 6k.

Nexus index.

The LOTUS-EATER’s maximum capacity tops out at 124. This number takes current fire codes and oxygen generator parameters into account. There are eight Arbiters — including yourself — and fifteen other employees who work The Club floor on rotation. Additionally, some automatons assist with carrying refreshments to clients. Lucky for you, those fellas aren’t on the payroll. 

The other twenty-two are, though. 

Nona swings her legs back and forth while sitting on the main bar’s countertop, humming a song from an underground band she likes. She’s sent you a link to their discography enough times that you recognize the URL immediately and know not to tap on it. 

“Hey, mom, dad, we’re on the news. ‘IPC Places Eris Under Temporary Travel Ban While Investigating Claims of Fraud’. Why didn’t anyone tell me we were doing fraud? Was I not invited to the group chat?” Nona hums. 

You glance up from your account book, sigh, then glance back down.

Meanwhile, Lear carries a hefty wooden crate from the back and places it on the floor. The sound of muffled glass clinking together can be heard, along with liquid sloshing.

“You shouldn’t make jokes like that,” he frowns. He shoos her off the counter with a wet rag, to which she takes refuge behind you. He rolls his eyes at her shenanigans, ties up his sandy hair, then gets to cleaning. “People could get the wrong idea. It’d tarnish [First]’s reputation.” 

Snickering, she replies, “And casually referring to Our-Lord-And-Savior-The-Exalted-One by her first name wouldn’t?” 

He bristles. “You…!” 

On instinct, he winds up his arm, wielding the now dirty rag as his ammunition. He pauses when Nona points at you. Seeing that there’s no way to hit his target without you joining the casualties, he huffs, and returns to shining glasses, using excessive force this time. 

Nona sticks her tongue out at him. After celebrating her victory, she situates herself on a nearby barstool, stretching her arms out beside your workspace like a content cat preparing to nap. 

“You’ve been staring at that silly book forever,” she notes, exasperation coloring her tone. “I know you aren’t reading it, either. Your eyes give you away. So, what’s up?” 

You shuffle in your seat. This line of questioning was inevitable as the four moons that hang everlasting in the sky, taking in everything as impartial observers. During instances like this, you envy the marvelous masses, how they can exist peacefully without living. No one asks the moon troubling questions. Or, if they do, they have more pressing issues at hand than their spoken query. 

“It’s nothing,” you dismiss. 

She blows a tuft of hair from her face. “Hey, Lear.”

“Mm?”

“Did you hear that?”

“Well, yes, I’m only standing a few feet away.” 

“Right, right. Let me ask a trickier question then, since that one was obviously way too easy for someone of your intellect. Do you believe her?”

“I…” he swallows thickly. “... Yes?”

Nona throws her arms up. “Gah! I’m surrounded by liars who can’t lie. That’s almost worse than liars who can lie— blegh, hey, did you actually throw a rag at me?” 

The rag in question slides down the side of her head and hits the ground with a sad squelch. 

“I’ll do it again too. You shouldn’t bother [First]—” Lear abruptly cuts himself off at the last syllable of your name, “The exalted one when she’s trying to concentrate.” 

You raise your head and frown. “Lear, I told you. Call me by my name when it’s just us. It feels wrong if you don’t.” 

“Seriously? That’s what gets your attention?” Nona laments. 

You both elect to ignore her. 

“I know, I know. It’s just… what if he comes back?” 

Silence descends and clings to the three of you like the suffocating scent of smoke. It’s there again, the uncomfortable, skin-prickling sensation of eyes sticking to you. Amber and sapphire coalesce into one, unspoken plea, forming a disconcerting shade. Nona’s visage betrays nothing, whereas Lear’s concern would be obvious from galaxies away. 

You square your shoulders and try to make yourself appear as decisive as you need to sound. “I’ll know when he’s back. He’ll text so I can let him in.” 

The two exchange knowing looks. It’s Nona who tries her luck. 

“That’s reassuring and all, but, I think the question Lear wanted to ask is why that man’s here in the first place.” 

Magenta eyes, rosy iris’, words that drip like venom-coated honey. 

When you asked how you should explain Blade’s presence to your staff, she told you she’d hate to abuse her authority, and that you’re free to decide those specifics yourself. You would’ve preferred some guidance or hint at her expectations in such a pivotal situation. It’s easier to avoid a landmine if you know how to best watch your step. The uncharacteristic lack of instructions goes on to birth unease. 

“My answer hasn’t changed. He’s here to act as my bodyguard until some concerns are settled.” 

Nona’s lips twist to the side. “You never wanted a bodyguard before.” 

“I never needed one before.” 

A glass shatters violently. 

You and Nona snap your head toward the noise’s origin, finding Lear’s face wound tight in pain. You both jump the counter. The remains of crystal shards are strewn across the floor, catching and refracting light. Watching your step, you make your way over to Lear, who is muttering expletives under his breath. 

No, that isn’t right, you realize. His lips aren’t moving. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he tries waving off Nona, who is inspecting the hand that held the glass, “Just an accident, s’all.” 

The private tumult boiling in his head threatens to overflow, stating loud and clear thoughts no one other than himself should be privy to. You grimace and focus on blocking the intrusive voice out. It’s so resounding, so sharp, that snippets penetrate through and spill their scathing secrets.  

‘My fault — should’ve killed — now she’s — because of me…!’ 

Block it out, block it out, block it out, you chant the mantra incessantly. 

Lear’s psyche wishes to illuminate itself to you in its entirety. The spotlights turn on one by one, focusing intently on the visible portion of the stage that any audience member can see. The overlapping beams penetrate the stage’s back curtain, revealing the silhouettes of the backstage crew. 

You don’t want to witness these delicate inner workings. It isn’t for your eyes, his thoughts aren’t for your ears. Sins committed in days past grant you a front-row seat and sew your eyes wide open. You haven’t attended this theater in some time, so it brought the show to you. 

It requires great effort to struggle against the needle and thread that wants to practice its stitches on you. This pain that feels like your skull is being crushed beneath an anchor could ease away if you were a good audience member who sat still and mute. You resist subservience at the cost of yourself. Eventually, the lights dim. The stage’s back curtain turns opaque. The actors shift their shouts into a normal speaking volume, a whisper, then finally, stop orating altogether. 

Your mind’s dictation is decided by you — the ink of Lear’s thoughts expunged. 

You’re aware of your physical surroundings again. 

Presently, you’re crouching down on the floor. You move your foot back to maintain balance, and there’s a crunch, warning you to tread carefully. You inhale and exhale shakily. At this sign of lucidity, Nona and Lear crowd over you, repeating your name on a loop. You check twice to ensure their mouths are indeed moving and you aren’t hearing what you shouldn’t. Once you dispel your fears, relief embraces you. 

This paroxysm has run its course.

Nona’s shoulders slump. “It’s okay, it’s over. She fixed it.” 

They both hold their breath until you nod in agreement. 

Lear extends his hand to help stand you up, to which Nona swats at it. 

“No touching,” she reminds. Sternness doesn’t sound right in her cadence. He considers arguing, only to decide against it. His fingers twitch, go still, then recede. 

You have to stand on your own strength. 

Neither of them knows what to say in the immediate aftermath — it’s been so long that they’re out of practice. While they think over the best-sounding platitudes, you spare your phone a glance. Several messages mar the screen from an unknown sender. The most recent is time-stamped at five minutes ago. 

You grumble a few choice words. 

“Mr. Personality is back?” Nona asks. 

“Yeah, I’ll handle it,” you close your account book and fold it under your arm. “You both should head home, it’s late. Just let Loopy take care of the glass shards.” 

Nona gives a mock salute. After a moment’s consideration, Lear nods. 

And so the three of you part ways. 

Your fingers blindly grope at the expanse beneath your desk. Finally, you come in contact with a protrusion, then press it. Electricity thrums then turns hushes. For peace of mind, you glide your hand through the air. A holographic keyboard flickers into existence and responds to your vigorous keystrokes. The monitor reads that your noise-canceling software is up to date. It prevents sound waves from escaping a perimeter you’ve set. It’s installed in every room on the second floor, which includes the private rooms in The Lounge, your office, and the bedroom attached to said office. 

Ever since Kafka started slinking around, the software’s uptime has increased exponentially. 

Unlike Kafka, Blade doesn’t sit across from you or relax on the couch against the silver-colored wall. He stands by the door that leads to the hallway like a statue. He hasn’t so much as uttered a word to you since you let him in, not that you put in much effort to rouse conversation. It isn’t as childish as him ignoring you, either, you swear his eyes haven’t left you for a millisecond. 

The keyboard and monitor dissipate at the flick of your wrist. 

“I know I said I didn’t have anything major scheduled this week, but the IPC’s new policy changes things,” you start. Still no reaction. Frowning, you continue, “I’ll have to break the house arrest you’ve imposed.” 

He doesn’t so much as blink. You thought a little provocation might earn you some material to work with, but you thought wrong. 

“Who will be there?” Blade asks. 

Instead of experiencing relief that he’s broken his vow of silence, tension coils its barbed limbs around you. It refuses to squeeze or apply any pressure. No, it intentionally denies you that, for it knows pain precedes understanding. A motive, an intention. Any degree of emotion is better than an unknowable void. Frustration, you can soothe, doubt, you can dispel, but total apathy? That’s a nightmare crossed into reality. 

“The other two leaders of the quadrants and myself.” 

At long last, there's a sign he is indeed a sentient lifeform and not the latest android model. A flash passes over his eyes. Suspicion or disbelief, perhaps. 

“Shouldn’t there be four leaders, if the city’s divided into quadrants?” 

“That’s a fair assumption. As far back as our records date, the southwestmost quadrant, Arc, has rejected the idea of having any fixed governance. They act however they see fit. It’s where that man who attacked me a few cycles back was sent to, since we look down on involuntary confinement.” 

“The prison planet without prisons,” Blade’s wry wording belies his flat tone. 

It’s always been a divisive topic, earning scorn and acclaim alike. You’ve had the misfortune of listening to clients regurgitate talking points that were made digestible by popular media, who started the cycle by devouring journal articles they read one paragraph of. They repeat what’s been said thousands of times with the bravado of the original theorist. Normally, you’d consider it more agreeable to bash your head against a wall than speak on the exhausted topic. 

So why is it a kindling of intrigue burns by a Stellaron Hunter’s offhand comment? 

“What’s this? The wanted criminal isn’t a proponent of prison abolition?” 

“Every decision comes at a price,” he says. “Sins should be punished.” 

You blink. Sins? Punishment? Is this a textbook case of cognitive dissonance, or another beast entirely? 

“What do you consider a sin?” 

“Anything that defies the natural order.” 

“Such as…?” 

The maelstrom that envelops him is potent enough for you to feel it breathing down your neck. Your body prickles all over. 

“Defying death.” 

“Not inflicting it?” 

“No,” Blade’s response is immediate, straight from the heart. “Taking life is permissible. It’s accelerating the inevitable.” 

This callous sentiment should chill you — maybe it would, if you heeded the alarm bells ringing in your mind — but fascination triumphs over any deterrent. This isn’t a creed one stumbles into by happenstance, it’s a burden made to order. His preoccupation with death is personal. A necessity. 

“Show me what it’s like to die.”

Is this request self-flagellation or redemption? 

If you’re ever to fulfill the Synalink you promised, you’ll need to dig deeper. 

“There are ‘sins’ committed with altruistic intentions, though.” 

“Hah,” he barks out a bitter laugh. “Those… those are the worst kind.” 

This is a personal slight he’s grappling with. The shards scattered around him like stardust condense, though the sight they create remains out of focus. It doesn’t have to be a sharp picture for you to discern its immense stature. 

Each person’s psyche is distinct in its manifestation. This image is a culmination of everything that defines them. Their core values, history, relationships, culture, ambitions both met and not fully realized; these colors leave an indelible imprint. In truth, this detailed representation is but a single dot amidst an ocean of stars. The mind of a sentient being must be vast if it is capable of ascending to an Aeon’s status. Still, you need something to work with, even if it doesn’t encompass the full scope. A pianist cannot play their instrument if there are no keys. 

This scale, this sheer magnitude that towers higher the more you crane your neck up, it’s unlike anything you’ve ever encountered. 

“... You’re going to give me a run for my money, Mr. 8.13 billion,” you murmur. “Your head looks like a warzone.” 

He leans against the wall with a hmph.

“With all your impending problems, that’s what you choose to focus on?” 

“I can multitask.” 

“Can you?” He challenges. Sensing your confusion, he elaborates. “You look awful.” 

Blade must be irresistible across all genders with that nuanced level of word crafting. 

“I appreciate your candidness,” you deadpan. 

He shakes his head at your sarcasm. “Don’t act obtuse. Your complexion’s off, your eyes are bloodshot… everything was fine when I left. Must have something to do with your earlier delay, I take it?” 

You underestimated his acumen. This would explain why he’s been sizing you up since you opened the door. His sword proficiency isn’t the only threat you should be wary of. You know to be mindful of your presentation when Kafka’s skulking about, you didn’t think he’d need to be treated with a similar caution.

“It’s nothing serious, just your typical mental overexertion. There’s a lot on my plate, you said so yourself.” 

“Hm.” 

Whether he believes you or not, the conversation is left at that. 

Transportation on Eris functions differently than what’s commonly found in other worlds. 

Traditional gas-based motors aren’t favored due to the frigid climate. Instead, a gemstone mined in the Nectary by vetted groups is the preferred resource. It contains special thermodynamic properties that can emit immense power under the correct conditions. The gemstones have been altered and assembled in such a way that they function as a railroad for insulated cabins to travel from one station to another. These paths were nicknamed 'nectar guides’ or ’guides’ by the first engineers to embed them in the ground. This is in reference to how the eight main paths lead to Perianth II’s center, built above the Nectary. 

The design serves a dual purpose — it optimizes travel and the heat radiating from the ground produces light. The accommodations have outworlders in mind. Your species, the Nymphalians, have long undergone enough natural selection to survive the hostile conditions fine enough. Your species’ eyesight excels in the dark and your physiology resists the cold. Aside from that, your body functions identical to any other humanoid species. The lone visible difference is a thin white ring around most Nymphalians’ iris’. You and Lear display this quality, Nona does not. 

The cabin you sit in has a quaint design. There are plush, brown loveseats lining the wall, glowing orange lights in the arched ceiling, and light refreshments atop wooden table stands. It’s split into a common area and a bedroom suite. More enchanting than any ornate embellishment are the expansive windows. You only get to see your quadrant in person during these trips to Perianth II’s center and back. 

“You warm enough?” You call over to Blade, who is bundled in extra layers of clothes and wearing an especially dour expression. 

He doesn’t dignify your quip with a verbal reply. 

This brief jaunt has earned his ire. For someone who’d likely prefer to be anywhere else, he’s taking this guard assignment quite seriously. He explained that taking this straightforward travel route begs for people with nefarious intent to come slithering out. You could see his point, but the matter isn’t up for dispute. Recent cyberattacks have called electronic communication into question. What you’ll be discussing with the others — Chrysus of Ade and Caicias of Mele — is highly sensitive information. The IPC catching any sliver of it could prove disastrous. 

“You shouldn’t be by the windows,” Blade eventually says.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a major buzzkill?” 

Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t respond. 

With some reluctance, you pry yourself away from the glass granting access to the outside world. 

“... Just a bit longer?” You try plucking a sympathetic cord he distinctly lacks. 

“If you like it so much, why not experience it in the safety of your room where your head is a less visible target?”  

“It isn’t possible to perform a Synalink on yourself.” 

“Have an underling do it.” 

The presumptions air to this suggestion eliminates any grace you may have extended.

“The only other Arbiter capable of performing Synalinks on me was my mother,” you say. “Note the past tense.” 

You experience a phantasmal ripple with him as the epicenter. It’s the weakest emotion you’ve inadvertently picked up from him, so you assume it’s nothing of consequence. 

“Passing blurs aren’t worth risking your life over.” 

You rise to your feet. 

“How do you know that?” You challenge, heat rushing to your cheeks. “These homes, these buildings, these streets… they’re either data on my screen or conveyed to me through someone who acts like they’re listing parts in a machine. I have to see it. I have to commit each ‘passing blur’ to memory. Otherwise…” 

What have I sacrificed my freedom for? 

Blade’s eyebrows furrow. 

“Otherwise…” you shake your head. “Forget it.” 

During the ensuing silence, your phone buzzes. 

You had set it on do not disturb for the upcoming meeting. A few contacts were granted an exception, meaning that this message must be urgent if it went through. You swallow the lump growing in your throat. An exhausted part of yourself reasons that it can wait until the meeting’s conclusion. It wouldn’t do you any good to get worked up beforehand, would it? The message will still be there when it’s finished. Then you’ll be able to commit all your bandwidth to its contents. This reasoning is a tempting mistress cooing at you to come join her in bed. The momentary relief will be as sweet as the aftertaste is bitter. 

Responsibility triumphs in the end. After inputting the necessary passcodes, a message four words long scrawls across your screen.

The product is ready. 

A simple code had been devised between you and the alchemist entrusted with testing Kafka’s synthetic tonic. The product isn’t ready yet would mean the sly woman bluffed, or at the very least, exaggerated her 70% comparison claim. You’d gladly take either. She’s sewn deceit before, she’d have no trouble doing it again. In case the alternative was true, you prepared another code; the code you just received. 

You reread it once. Twice, then thrice. You check if the message came from the right number. It did. You check again. 

This frantic fixation consumes you to such a degree, you don’t register the cabin jerking aside. The delay from your reflexes throws your equilibrium off. Squeezing your eyes shut, you brace yourself for an unceremonious rendezvous with the floor. Your right side does come into contact with a hard surface, except it’s sooner than you anticipated. Warmer, too. 

This heat is different from what’s produced inside the Nectary’s gemstones. It’s personal, containing the distinct thrum of life. There’s also an aroma. Slightly floral, mostly spices you don’t recognize. Then there’s this steady sound — consistent enough to put a metronome to shame. A slow thump, thump, thump. 

“How have you survived this long, clumsy as you are?” 

Blade isn’t speaking any louder than he normally would, but you can hear him better. 

“Hey, I’m… not… clumsy…?” 

It’s only when you open your eyes that you’re able to piece together your current predicament. 

Blade’s steadying you by your shoulders and your cheek is pressing against his chest. You always knew he was tall, but having him tower over you this close gives you a new perspective. As does the fact he doesn’t immediately shove you off after breaking your fall. Your body goes stiff enough to rival rigor mortis.

“Accident prone, then.”  

This swipe has you desperate to reaffirm your authority. “You should’ve just… let me fall then! Maybe I wanted to, what do you know!” 

(It sounded better in your head). 

“Are you positive you’re over a century old?” 

An equally snarky rebuttal blooms on your tongue, only to immediately wither, turning to ash that coats the ground. 

There’s the sound of a dying star, a dirge announcing the end. 

What one hears before their name is reduced to an epitaph or an alphabetized list neatly organizing the recently deceased. It’s loud, then it isn’t. Hideous, then hypnotizing. Yellows and oranges and reds swirling in a serpentine motion that mocks you for thinking you ever conquered it. Civilizations can temporarily subdue it, bend it to their will, but it’s not ever truly theirs. The sovereignty of flame is a dynasty everlasting. It may rise, it may fall, but it can’t ever be truly extinguished. 

You’re sent flying back with enough power that the air is forced from your lungs. It’s as if an Aeon’s hand had pushed your body aside, dragging you to the edge of the universe. You’re released from the scorching maw and into an icy nothingness. 

The planet itself is frozen for a time. 

There’s no strength in your body. Your system has been injected with pure, raw adrenaline, causing your limbs to shake and ignore your commands. Your ears are ringing and your eyesight is blurry. Tears cleanse the pollutants from your eyes. A dark swath covers your body, its weight hindering your feeble attempts to move. Determination alone wills you to emerge from this shadowy cocoon. 

The ringing fades and all is quiet, save for the crackling of fire. 

Then the screaming begins. 

You try identifying the source. You think you may have found it, then it starts elsewhere, a different pitch, a different soul lot in lament. Bloodcurdling shrieks rise alongside the thick smoke. You’re being a stretch of buildings that loom imposingly, obsidian spires reaching up to the night sky. The masonry required to maintain their reign basks in the flames. The unusual surplus of light unveils its secrets, from the cracks in the stone to the faded graffiti bored kids left behind. 

The ground is uneven, unlike the glossy pavement found in the entertainment district. This dull, grayish-blue soil with the consistency of fine powder exhibits the true nature of Eris’ untreated exterior. It’s cool to the touch and takes pleasure at the chance to stain your fine clothes. 

Your wandering mind is brought back upon hearing a sputter nearby. You’re not sure where you are, what you’re doing, or why you’re doing it; but you remember you weren’t alone. 

“Blade…” The name comes out as a croak. “Where…?” 

You can’t call out to him, it’s like cotton has been stuffed down your esophagus. 

There’s movement in the corner of your eye. 

You make the mistake of trying to stand. Your arms might’ve begun to heed your commands, but your legs do not. The worst insurrectionists are your ankles. The instant you try putting any weight on them, they collapse as if you were a newborn doe. Recognizing this strategy’s incompetence, you drag yourself over to where you saw movement instead. The coarse ground rubs at and scratches your skin. 

Upon closer inspection, your heart stops. 

The dark swath — that’s Blade. 

He’s in a far worse state than you. His entire backside has been scorched, displaying angry red blisters and split skin just barely hanging on. His right arm is bent in an awkward position, most certainly broken. Then there’s his left arm, or lack of it. Clumps of limp sinew hang where his arm should be joined to his shoulder joint. The force of the impact must’ve blown it off or eviscerated it entirely. 

He’s lying on his side, facing away from you. A pool of blood forms beneath him, mixing with the soil. The coupling results in a sickly mauve that creeps and seeps inch by inch. 

The fire… it’s coming from the guides, you realize. The cabin has been torn to pieces!

This begs the question: how are you alive? 

You should be covered in burns at the very least. Some of your clothes got charred, you think a rib or two might be broken, but you’re living and breathing. There’s a gap in your memory where the previous events should be. You try recalling whatever you can, no matter how seemingly insignificant. You were moved aside as the roaring got louder, and then there was the sound of glass shattering, heat to cold… 

Blade must have intervened. Did he use the few seconds before the fire caught up to break the window and toss you out? That can’t be right; you’d have glass entrenched in your skin and burns on whichever side faced the explosion. Surely, with his inhuman reflexes, he could’ve come out relatively unscathed. 

Unless he chose to shield you. 

You don’t think, you just act. First, by tearing the hem of your long skirt, then second, pressing it against the gaping wound where his shoulder abruptly ends. Gushes of crimson spill through your first makeshift bandage. You throw it aside, rip at your garments again, repeating the process in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. A Stellaron Hunter must have a robust constitution, right? He was able to act faster than you could think. He can survive this — you just need to stop the bleeding until you can get help. Kafka has to have connections with advanced medical factions. 

Tears stream down your face and you sniffle relentlessly. Your hands are caked in soot and blood, the scent of burnt skin and metal clings to your nostrils. Is he going to die? Is he already dead? You can’t bring yourself to check his pulse. How could he be willing to die for you in the short period of time you’ve known one another? He could’ve concocted any excuse for why he failed Kafka’s assignment, you’re certain he’s more indispensable to their cause than you are. 

Blade stirs. 

You think that it’s your imagination playing tricks on you. A cruel joke to remind you that you make your living off shaping reality for others, temporarily giving them what they want at the price of never truly having it. 

Or so is your conviction until he moves again. 

You’ve heard of muscles twitching after death to give the false impression of life. However, you’ve never witnessed the phenomenon yourself. Is this how it works? It isn’t sporadic, his right arm is sweeping over the ground, fingers flexing. Much to your astonishment, he pushes himself up with the arm that was contorted into a horrible shape a minute ago. The pain he’s experiencing must be excruciating and yet he merely grunts as he shifts into a sitting position. 

“Stop moving,” you rasp out. With your most recent bandage in hand, you go to apply pressure to the left arm socket. 

He responds to your fervent desperation in a low, gravelly voice. 

“Don’t bother.” 

Don’t bother? Is he in a coherent state of mind? If you don’t attend to his gushing wound, he’s at risk of bleeding out. You prepare to ignore his utterance when a strange sight freezes you in place. 

A white structure emerges from his raw, mangled arm socket, descending like water pouring from a pitcher. It solidifies and takes the shape of a humerus. Once finished, it goes on to create the radius and ulna. Next are the carpals, metacarpals, then phalanges. Tendons join them together, fibrous muscles envelop the bones. Finally, in the blink of an eye, fresh layers of skin build atop one another in sheets. He clenches and unclenches his newly formed hand. 

If defying death is a sin, he is laden in iniquity.

“What hurts?” Blade asks. 

You’re too aghast to respond. His body just stitched itself back together without any medical treatment or esoteric healing techniques. Is it possible you’re hallucinating? Can a visual hallucination be this vivid? 

He reaches out. Seconds prior to his hand coming into contact with your bare skin, you furiously shake your head, flailing backward and narrowingly avoiding him. His eyes bore down on you like molten magma. He retracts his hand after a drawn-out pause. 

“If you can’t speak, point instead.” 

Dazedly, you follow his instructions, focusing primarily on your ankles. They’ve swollen since you last checked. The flesh is tender and puffy. 

“I’ll carry you,” he says. “Stay still.”

“Wait,” you manage to wheeze out. “This area… residential… have to help…!”

A coughing spell cuts your hoarse plea short. 

“That explosion was meant for you. Whoever set it off will want to ensure their job’s success.”

Blade reaches out for you again. You duck to avoid his grasp, despite the pain throbbing in your chest cavity from the hasty movement. The adrenaline must be fading if your brain is doing inventory on the damage you’ve sustained, rather than focusing on survival. Hot waves test your resolution. You grit your teeth. If you make a show of your pain, he’s not going to change his decision. 

He speaks your name in a low, warning tone. 

Adamant in your refusal, you point to where the cries for help are the loudest. 

“It’s not my priority,” he says. 

He easily grabs you on his third try and you yelp. The sluggishness of his previous attempts must've been out of consideration for you. His right arm interlocks behind your knees while the left supports your back. You thrash to no avail, his grip remains ironclad. Your struggles amount to nothing but perspiration clinging to your skin and more aches. 

The nearest medical unit to this street is at least thirty minutes away, now that the guides are out of order, you think. That isn’t fast enough…! Every second counts!

In your panic, a sacred vow made decades ago is desecrated. 

You cup Blade’s face in your shaky hands and stare him straight in the eye. 

The previously formed shards come into focus.

It’s monumental, this psyche you’ve barged into without permission. A violation of another’s autonomy. You know this, you condemn yourself for it, yet you press on nevertheless. The previously unknowable architecture that hulks over you is of Xianzhou design. It’s pieced together by bricks as infinite as the stars in the universe, though there is no magnificent shine, only matte stonework. 

This structure… is it a garrison? You wonder. Was Blade a member of the… what’s the name of their military again… Cloud Knights? 

You’ve had Cloud Knight clients before. Their psyches take the likeness of their favorite, scenic expanse on the Hexafleet, the area that they cared for enough to risk their life. The skies would be blue, clouds fluffy and prolific. A sense of duty and patriotism felt palpable. Occasionally, you’d be made privy to grief’s scent carried on a breeze, perhaps from a loved one’s passing or comrade’s untimely death in battle. 

This is a riddle you need to solve swiftly. With a little tampering, you can form a link. It’s immoral, a blight to your personal code, but you’ll leverage enough influence for Blade to stay and help any survivors until help arrives. Whatever consequences arise can be dealt with later. 

Even with the heightened mental sensitivity from making direct physical contact, this is proving a challenge. You can see his psyche but you can’t interact with it. It’s like running your hands through vapor. For you to successfully exert enough influence to change a decision he’s dead set on, you’ll need to go deeper. Inside this fortress sits the recesses of his mind, the bottom of an ocean you’re merely skimming the surface of. The intrusion’s necessity twists your gut as if your intenses were being kneaded. 

Your incorporeal form flutters to the gates, standing solitary against a leaden backdrop. 

The closer you get, you become increasingly aware of a malicious entity permeating behind the doors which strain to contain it. This is the same harrowing presence you felt when he protected you from Alister. Now that you’ve spent more time with Blade, you can discern its essence is different from his, although they’re forcibly intertwined like a rope. Blade emanates this unremittingly morose energy. It’s bleak, unconcentrated. 

This substance oozes a need to satiate bottomless bloodlust. It wants to sink its teeth into flesh, lacerate muscles, and slice through bone. Mayhem and viscera are its highest raison d'être. There’s no sensibility, no reasoning with it, it acts in one way then shifts on a whim; chaos inside a splintering bottle. 

How is Blade capable of functioning with this slumbering beast ready to wreak havoc at any second? 

Steeling your resolve, you prepare to enter.

A seal halts your progress. 

Impatience urges you to dispel it. Blade’s psyche is rejecting you, any further delays will give it ample opportunity to flush you out. 

The kaleidoscopic seal thrums and wards off your efforts. 

Someone put this here, you discern. It’s deliberate. 

What perplexes you is that the seal prohibits entry yet does nothing to contain the miasma writhing behind it. Wouldn’t whoever created it intend to keep that salivating beast at bay? It’s well-crafted too, denying your every attempt to eliminate it. Kafka dabbles in mind-altering. Could she have left this here? You know what her aura feels like — calm, confident, cunning — this seal radiates none of her trademarks. 

An invisible force hauls you back. 

You took too long — Blade’s psyche is expelling the foreign invader. 

You blink and you’re back in reality. 

Blade is grimacing, the lines on his face highlighted by flickering flame. There’s a pallor to his complexion brought on by the aggressive expulsion his mind pulled off. An act such as that leeches off of one’s vitality. He takes a moment to recompose himself, as do you. Any subsequent attempts to form a link are going to be wrung from a desiccated source. You don’t know how many attempts you have left in you, 

“A first offense, I could pardon,” Blade pants out, blood-red hues shining, “A recidivist like yourself, though… can’t go undisciplined.” 

Your eyes widen. How did he know your intentions so quickly? You hadn’t so much as moved yet! 

There’s a dull discomfort blooming from your nape. 

Your eyelids feel heavy and your breathing slows. Black spots float around in your vision. They start small, appearing as if they were polka dots, then grow to be the size of black holes. Your muscles won’t move. The unconscious realm beckons. Its gravitational pull is irresistible, a tide you can’t swim against. 

What is this? Your neck… did he strike a nerve…? 

“You’ll be fine,” a distant, sonorous voice promises. “Just sleep.” 

The sentence has been delivered. 

You’re made prisoner to a dreamless slumber. 

[marieisnothere12]

Things that happened in Epic: The Musical that differs from the Odyssey

Okay so spoilers for both obviously you have been warned. In addition, I dont remember everything so feel free to correct me or add smth you noticed!

Polites (Odyssey) dies bc of Scylla or Zeus’ bolt, not Polyphemus. He is in fact one of the men who gets turned into pigs.

Eurylochos (Odyssey) actually fucks things up—like a lot. He opens the wind bag and it was his idea to kill Helios’ sacred cattle. There might be other things but I cant remember.

Posidon never confronts Odysseus he just kinda messes with them but it’s not that direct. What occurs instead is a bunch of men die bc they literally went to the land of the giants (i cant spell their proper name so, canadians—get the ref?? Also, the giants couldve been norwegians. Confused? So am i)

Both winions don’t exist the lotus eaters are just ppl that are high asf

Also about Open Arms, instead of what happened there a bumch of Odysseus’ men got high and he had to drag them out

Songs 21 and 22

The distance between Troy and Ithaca is roughly 644 miles or 560 nautical miles, not 600 but I get why Jorge chose 600 i mean “644 miles of open sea” is a mouthfull

They stay at Circe’s island for a year, not like however long they did in Epic

Odysseus is CLEARLY faithful to Penelope in Epic. I say clearly bc Homer doesn’t know what r4pe is so it doesn’t help us (in the Odyssey, consemt w/ Circe was questionable depending on whos translation you’re reading and theres the telegony but Calypso was r4pe no doubt abt that)

In the Odyssey, Odysseus actually talks to the dead (his mom, Achilles, Agamemnon, Patroclus…) but in Epic they cant see him

That’s all i can remember rn and we still gotta wait for the Thunder Saga. All in all, Jorge did a good job adapting the Odyssey. I mean what’s fun abt the mythos is that it changes. I actually enjoy changes with the myths. However, like Mr Jalapeño himself said, “The Odyssey is cool expecially if youre in school.” DONT SUBSITUTE EPIC FOR THR ACTUALLY THING OKAY

[infestedslime]

Don't have much to say about lotus eaters (it was neat and I'm excited to see where the story goes and the new lotus dialgue was very intriguing) however I will say I am extremely glad the confirmed/canonized that the operator and drifter can exist in the same space while in the void. That was a headcanon I had and it's cool to see it in game.

[ashenmind]

I do like the wahh parallels, as I have throughout lotus eaters

but its habit of not actually acknowledging that kasen exists is a continued source of amusement

[epicthemusical]

Hi I am very new to the Epic fandom and I'm curious to know what all the big ships are (if there are any. Tbh I've had enough of shipping wars for a while), or if there's anything else I need to know for interacting in the fandom space

okay phew this is gonna be a lot and i have enlisted my EPIC friends to make this is accurate i can. first off nicknames we use a lot. Eurylochus us Eury, Odysseus is Ody, Perimedes is often called Peri of course Penelope is often called Pen. you might see mention of Diomedes which is based more in the original Illiad which we call Dio. hmm think thats about all now onto ships

odypen (Odysseus x Penelope) ofc self explanatory applies to both EPIC and original sources

eurymene (Eurylochus x Ctimene) they are not mentioned in EPIC but yeah Ctimene is also Ody sister making Eury and Ody brothers in law

diodypen (Diomedes x Odysseus x Penelope) based more on the original source of The Odyssey/Illiad but will be mentioned in EPIC communities

odydio (Odysseus x Diomedes) again based more on original source but could be mentioned

telestratus (Telemachus x Peseistratus) again based on original source but will be mentioned at times

odypoli (Odysseus x Polites) EPIC based one of my personal favorites and a pretty popular ship not much else to say Perenor, Perinorpoli, Peripoli, ect (Perimedes x Elpenor, Perimedes x Elpenor x Polites, Perimedes x Polites) basically any combination of these three is a ship. this is caused by some cut song snippets Jorge has shared specifically Cope with That and a mention that originally Polites x Perimedes were supposed to be a thing

antimachus (Telemachus x Antinous) This is a toxic ship when it comes to EPIC cannon

Another big fandom thing that isnt really everybody cup of tea is something called the Manwore AU started by Anniflamma a big animator/artist within EPIC were basically Ody sleeps with everyone as a way to make it through his journey. I will mention that Ody does NOT cheat on Penelope in either EPIC or the original sources.

Polites Eury and Ody are childhood friends

people will often mention pancakes and Polites together that is from the Cyclops saga.

One of the problems in the fandom is a lot of people bashing Eury for his actions i personally dont like bashing characters since i believe every character made mistakes and messed up so no one character deserves to be blamed but you can form your own opinions on this.

Fans of EPIC are called winions which is short for wind minions shown in the Ocean Saga and is often related to the Lotus eater creatures

Big artists/animators for EPIC include Gigi, Aniflamma, Mircsy (prounounced merchy), Gwendy, Wolfythewitch, and a newer one called Neal

Playlist of EPIC animatics/animations in order (Vengeance saga is the livestream since its so new and not all the songs have animations yet)

https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLGNbMhyzUajd-DZadE_QzvBwpYr2J8_J2&si=nXBZSJQPXBnW-DnF

overall this community is actually one of the better to exist and for the most part except for a minority everyone is open and supportive so feel free to share your thoughts and creations. We have a ton of very creative and talented people and we welcome you to the EPIC community UwU

[curator-on-ao3]

All of this.

Also, I’m linking to my own Tumblr post that expresses my disgust with this episode that could have been okay if the storyline had reflected the actual realities of the show and its characters instead of what the episode did do — shoehorn our people into scenarios with limited to no internal logic while undermining characters and relationships.

some ramblings on among the lotus eaters

what is happening in this household. I am not one to criticize professional screenwriters but genuinely who did this. first and biggest pet peeve: Una is immune to radiation. We know this. And YET she is affected by the asteroid’s spooky vibes. I would have even taken Christine saying something along the lines of “if Una is affected, it’s only a matter of time before it gets us too,” or SOMETHING. The first officer has superpowers and we never see them. I would like to see her carry more people around. (I have written a fanfic to fix this bc I was annoyed)

I will confess that I am biased against any episode that is not Una centric. I miss her. Where is she. I appreciated her calling Chris out on evidently habitual nonsense but I would like to see more.

also though where is Pelia?? Napping in a Jeffries tube? I am curious how thousands of years of memories are affected by the radiation. These are the real questions.

Another real question: why is the doctor here for his combat skills? They make it a one-liner for Joseph to be all deep and tortured but genuinely. What is the reason. Yes he’s a war veteran, but aren’t there other veterans on the ship? (yes) Is there not a whole security department of people trained in combat? (yes). I know the writers wanted to split everyone into fun little groups but why was this the move. Send your super strong first officer to lead the mission and your super strong science officer to assess the cultural contamination.

(tangent: Una Spock and La’an on the planet would have resonated SO much more for me butwhatevertheydidntdothatitsfine)

last but not least, the whole “you brought me home” thing with Batel IRKED me. You’ve been dating for six minutes. This is not believable. It simply does not make sense to me! If Chris is going to have a deep emotional connection with anyone that endures all memory loss, it would be Una or Spock. IF ONLY he had a history of a connection like that… like shaving a depression beard and going to rescue someone in the middle of his midlife crisis… or braving a hostile atmosphere and possible suffocation…OR sacrificing his future so someone else doesn’t suffer the same fate…

but no Batel brought him home she is the most important relationship in his life. obviously.

[sokkastyles]

I Read Azula in the Spirit Temple

And here are my thoughts:

Azula and Ty Lee's interactions are the best part of this comic. I generally don't like Tyzula but see why it exists. Azula's most compelling actions are with her female friends. And this comic builds a compelling foundation for Tyzula because Ty Lee is actually in a position of power here, as the one who understands What is Going On whereas Azula is still in denial about everything. There's a reason here that she appears in the temple but appears to be the only thing that's real. They have a nice Batman/Catwoman dynamic here.

I was right when I said Azula was using the Fire Warriors, and here she tries to use the fact that she broke them out of the institution to keep them loyal to her, but the point, that we see over and over again in Azula's story, is that you can't win loyalty and love through fear. The other girls have become fed up with Azula and leave her, and by the end of the comic, Azula also realizes that it was her own actions that drove them away, which is why I think she decides not to pursue them. The shot at the end of her watching them together is sad because we know Azula really does want friendship and love, but she still can't let herself admit this. Instead she declares that she will find her own followers again, because "I always do." I'm actually quite fond of this ending. Azula gonna Azula.

On that note, one of the central themes of this comic is Azula's awareness that she is responsible for driving the people closest to her away. The gist of this comic is that Azula essentially finds herself in a lotus eater's dream, but rejects it because she knows it's not real. Azula's main conflict is her desire for recognition and love from the people she cares about warring with not just her feelings of her own self importance, but her desire for the truth. Even when the spirit gives her what she wants, she doesn't accept it because she knows it's a lie. This actually is a really good insight into Azula's character because we know Azula before the series finale was content with the lie, she was able to convince herself that fear is the only way. But now she's getting to the point where she can't do that anymore, even at the expense of her own happiness.

Azula repeating in her sleep how she will make the fire warriors pay like a madness mantra is hilarious, and the comic intentionally plays up her pathetic self-delusions of grandeur in a way that is reminiscent of Zuko yelling at peasants to step aside in the show while he himself is reduced to a beggar.

The spirit does seem to want to help her, but since what it shows is controlled by Azula's own mind, it can't settle peacefully, because Azula can't find peace within her own mind. Everything the spirit shows her is really a reflection of her own inner conflict.

There's an interesting bit where Azula calls the spirit out and says something like "do you really think what I want is lies and manipulations?" The ironic thing is that Azula has built relationships on lies and manipulations in the past. Ty Lee at one point says that they were never friends, and that she was happiest without Azula.

At one point, Azula blames Mai for "breaking up the team for a stupid boy who didn't even want her" Zutara supremacy!

Azula wants the people she cares about to acknowledge how they hurt her and seek forgiveness, but she can't make the connection that she needs to acknowledge how she hurt others and seek forgiveness. Azula convinces herself that people can't live without her because she's afraid to be alone.

I've talked a lot already about Azula's visions of her family and the memory of the first time her parents see her firebend. I don't have much else to add here that wasn't said before.

There's a particularly interesting part where Azula destroys the spirit's monstrous vision of Zuko (who tells her that she needs to seek forgiveness from the people she's hurt) and the vision of her mother responds with a horrified "Azula, what did you do?" as Azula is standing over the spirit vision of her brother, dead from her lightning. Azula quickly dismisses this as the illusion that it is, but it's an interesting image and calls to mind how Azula did strike her brother with lightning and nearly killed him. Since we know that the things the spirit shows Azula are from her own subconscious, could this be an echo of Azula feeling guilty for how she's hurt Zuko?

Azula says that everyone turned against her except her father, and he's now "a pathetic shadow" without his bending. This is interesting because it's the first time Azula has acknowledged any fault with her father. This comic is also the first time she acknowledges that her father made her into a weapon. She says that she's the only one left to carry on her family's legacy. She's clearly conflicted about these two thoughts and even when she gets close to acknowledging that her father was abusive, she then turns it around and blames her mother and everyone else for "abandoning" her, and won't acknowledge that Ozai lost his bending as a result of his own actions, and instead sees herself as the only one left of any worth.

Azula's mother keeps telling her that she loves her, and since we know that what the spirit shows Azula comes from her own mind, we know Azula knows this deep down. Even in the moments when she admits that her mother was not happy, she knows her mother was scared for her and that she did care about her.

Overall, Azula is compelling in this comic because she's a villain who doesn't know what she wants, and is very close to having that "I'm the bad guy," moment, but still resisting change. And I kind of love it, to be honest.

I may post some more coherent thoughts later, but I just wanted to get this down for now!

[takeyourcyanide]

Somewhere

Ao3

Fandom: soul eater

Word count: 522

Character: franken stein

Tags: random & short, hurt/no comfort, (sort of), abstract, tags are hard, no plot/plotless

Summary: The usual group is implied to be over hanging out at Stein’s laboratory. Stein, struggling, withdraws.

Notes: this is a repost, as I deleted this from off of tumblr at first

Upper lips meeting bottom lips, tongues wriggling in sync with hands gesticulating in moments of unbridled passion, arms at rest in moments of finely boring calm. Their eyes would, instantaneous in their searching, meet the sources of all of the persistent stimuli, their flesh lying over their contracting muscles overtly a blanket.

Through the opened window rushed abrasive photons, rushed the bustles of beetles and of people alike. Shoes tapped in repetition against old cobblestone, grime feverishly stuck between the cracks in permanence. A torrid breeze administered lacerating kisses to Stein’s perspiring skin, squeezing inside of him through his pores, rummaging within and racking him with a heaving dizziness.

Childlike whims gripped at his pulsating heart, a scream and a cry banging desperately at the bottom of his throat, felt in his diaphragm. Restlessness made abode his fidgeting limbs. Fight or flight blurred supposed logistics. If the world and what sat on the sofas were but mere metals, the horrors of the unknown were the rust overriding them.

An attempt at ignoring the living ground and ceiling, an attempt at ignoring the death of the up and the down - all fruitless, as he paced far away from the antagonizing laughter. His innate cesspool of gore bordered on the forefront alongside the most pathetic of whims. Distractions were of no use to an individual whom knew only of abuse.

He couldn’t find it in himself to tell whether or not his eyes were drier than the abysmally breathing desert, or wetter than whatever bloodied sea he’d been cast into. He could not sift through reactions for what would be appropriate; giggles would bubble and tremors would ruffle.

Every once in a while, the sitting ducks strutted forth attempts at communication. His large hands soothing over the area where his face was meant to be, his gangling figure swaying off to the side and off to the other side, he’d force out a few head nods in hopes of quelling and telling his wishes for the safety of the lonesome. The danger of the crawling eyes impatiently awaited his withdrawal and subsequent arrival, though at least one bird would be eliminated, he’d attempt to convince himself of the positives. Attempt and you shan’t succeed.

Something nipped at his lotus jugular, and he whipped around and forwards. He’d garner accidental and unwanted attention, an awkward, out of place air about him. “No,” he’d mumble, lost in the pitiful. He retired to his long fabled office.

Bolting and bright colors, glittering lights, concealing shadows. Nicotine for mitigation; a pleasurable failure. To become weak would imply the existence of former strength, but would he not go limp for the feel-good? Huddled in a corner somewhere, he rocked with fingers tugging on his hair. Darting eyes and dilated pupils.

When, for how long, was the last time they’d been seen by him in the natural and proper form? Them. Having always appeared the same, the fog thick with confusion, scenery muddled. When was the last time he’d seen someone? A someone? When was the last time he could be certain of his location? Of himself? Scribbled and riddled.

Somewhere.

[kozachenko]

Do you feel Gensokyo would indeed be better off if Reimu WAS more thorough in youkai extermination (i.e. actually successfully punishing Mamizou at all)? It's part of her real job, sure, but it's also a point against Gensokyo. Basically, do you think Mizuchi is right that humans and youkai should be as far away from each other as possible and constant enemies?

I think it all depends on the severity of a Youkai's actions, like, if a Youkai were to just walk around disguised in the human village and they're just kind of chilling and not causing problems then that probably isn't worth an extermination, on the contrary if a Youkai were to try and kill a bunch of humans in the village and/or threaten Gensokyo, then yeah, that's probably worth at least a beatdown from Reimu. In regards to the most recent Lotus Eaters chapter, I think that Reimu should probably punish Mamizou with more than just a slap on the wrist and expose what she did to the human village, but at the same time, the tanuki have to eat too. They can't normally just go and buy food from the human village because that would be too obvious. But still, if Reimu were to expose Mamizou's plotting, then that would probably help them in the long run if humans were more scared of them, and it's not like Reimu just exposing them would stop them from doing what they want anyway. Besides, worst case scenario, if Reimu does exterminate Mamizou, then there will just be a new tanuki who takes her place as leader. Again, it all depends on how necessary it will be for Reimu to exterminate them, and what doing so will actually accomplish.

I also don't agree with Mizuchi's statement that humans and Youkai should be as far away as possible, mainly because we've seen examples of humans and Youkai getting along peacefully together throughout the series. Some examples I can think of right now are. Alice and Marisa, Miyoi in Geidontei, Nitori just coming to the human village mainly to sell things, Aya schilling for her own newspaper to the human villagers, heck, all of Myouren temple seems to be in pretty good relations with the human village and a lot of the people who live there are Youkai, and Byrakuren's whole thing is wanting for humans and Youkai to live in peace. However, since Youkai run on fear to fuel their existence, I think there is some validity to what Mizuchi is saying. I'm not saying that the Youkai should be all buddy buddy with the human villagers, but I'm not saying that they should be enemies either. To use Miyoi as an example again, since she's a Zashiki Warashiki, she's only bringing good luck to the buisness she watches over. Her existence isn't as reliant on fear, like a lot of other Youkai.

Again, it's not a simple black and white thing, it's more so a spectrum of how badly a Youkai being near humans will fuck things up. Even if you take a look at the "balance of Gensokyo," constantly punishing Youkai for just chilling in the human village and not actually doing anything bad is only going to lead to more problems in the long run. Resentment will build overtime towards humans, and more drastic problems will start presenting themselves, which only leads to a constant cycle of Reimu having to fight even more dangerous and powerful Youkai that try to attack the human village, eventually leaving Gensokyo in a constant state of unrest, and while yes the spellcard system exists for that whole reason, there are going to be Youkai who don't give two shits about it and just do whatever they want anyway. For the safety of the human villagers in Gensokyo, not holding as big a fear of Youkai would probably help keep relations peaceful for a longer period of time, as well as keeping Youkai from becoming so powerful that it's basically impossible to keep them in check without having to exterminate them.