#there is nothing to indicate the passage of time in the show so this is just coming from favreau

[thelaurenshippen]

so was anyone going to tell me that the mandolorian takes place over the course of THREE YEARS or did I have to figure that out myself by looking up star wars timeline articles!!?

[oflgtfol]

still cant believe we're supposed to believe that s3 takes place several years after s2 they did such a horrific job of showing the passage of time

[b14augrana]

Ad Astra Per Aspera

Nothing gold can stay

Alexia Putellas x teen!reader

pt. 3 masterlist

Warnings: this story contains depictions of alcoholism, adultery, and familial issues. read at your own discretion. this chapter in specific discusses themes of abuse and alcoholism.

A/N: the long awaited part 2 to ‘ad astra per aspera’! this took a lot of thinking and scrapped passages to really get this on point, i hope you enjoy 🫶🏼

"You’re early today!”

You smiled halfheartedly at Magdalene and Dani’s teacher, nodding at her. “Yeah, uh, I’ve gotta get to work a bit earlier today so…”

“Not a problem, I’ll see you later,” the woman responded. You gave Magdalene and Dani one last hug before returning to your car, having hope that you’d finally be early to training for once and go the day without being berated by Alexia.

You didn’t want to relive the other night’s training, not in your mind, and definitely not in person. With you, Alexia was a completely different person to the patron saint of Barça that everyone painted her as. You wanted to change that and show her you weren’t as irresponsible and careless as she thought you out to be, but you couldn’t.

It was a relief to see the training pitch parking lot barely populated as it came into sight. There was maybe two cars, which meant you were on time. How incredible.

Before every training, a hopeful feeling swelled inside of you — one of happiness, because you saw football as a means of enjoyment and something to look forward to when all else came crashing down in your life. It was short lived of course, but like a phoenix, it always came back one way or another. Were you wrong for believing in your sport to help you?

"(Y/N), you're early.. for once."

You knew that voice all too well. There was a surprised tone that Alexia's voice held as she spoke, and you knew she expected you to show up late once again if not miss practice completely.

"Yeah, surprise," you replied dully, sitting down on the bench to put your boots on.

"Why are you early?" she asked, and it was a bit of a stupid question.

'Well, after you yelled at me in front of everybody the other day, I decided that if I have to drop all three of my siblings off to school, I might as well do it as early as possible so I don't have to worry about getting screamed at and humiliated at half past nine in the morning!'

"Dropped my siblings off earlier today," you mumbled instead, eyes fixated on the ground as you spoke. You were sure that eventually, your fear would be the one to corrupt your family completely, but you couldn't tell Alexia; it was equivalent to opening yourself up to her, being vulnerable even after trying so hard to maintain a tough front.

She glanced at you, her eyebrow just barely raised but her mouth idle. You cinched your laces tightly and sprung to your feet, very aware of her gaze fixed on you as you grabbed a ball from the bag and dribbled it over to the nearest wall, preparing for the training session ahead.

More of the team started to file through the pitch gates. You could hear their bags dropping to the ground as you passed against the wall, and as Mapi passed behind you she squeezed your shoulder. “I’m glad to see you, (Y/N),” she said, a smile on her face.

For once, as training started, you didn’t feel dreadful. You were excited and motivated by the good start to the morning, which showed in the newfound pep in your step and enthusiasm around the pitch.

After a long while, the sun began to set, which indicated the end of training. You sat down at the bench, unlacing your boots and trading them for sandals. Unexpectedly, Alexia sat down beside you, saying, “Good job today. You did well.”

“Graciés,” you responded, standing up while slinging your bag over your shoulder, “See you tomorrow.”

She watched you leave through the gates, her eyes unwavering on your figure disappearing around the corner.

You lived next to a lovely elderly lady named Margalida. She was a sweet woman, always saying bon día and bona tarda to you and your siblings whenever she saw you. Sometimes, after you returned from training and picked up your siblings, she invited you four into her home to share pastries with her. You always accepted, of course, because it was much better than subjecting yourself to the olfactory assault that was your home, and she was also a widow that you figured needed some company from time to time.

When you weren't home, you couldn't monitor your mother's behaviour; praying that it would stay somewhat normal would have to suffice. You didn’t know whether Margalida knew about the true nature of your household or if she thought you were all naturally raucous.

You pulled into the driveway, parking the car as the doors opened and your siblings got out of the car. “(Y/N),” Magdalene said slowly, imploring you to look at her curiously. “Who are those people?” she pointed ahead, and that’s when you noticed Margalida at your doorstep, alongside two police officers and another woman. She looked like a regular office worker, but you weren’t an idiot; she was obviously a social worker, which could only mean one thing. A bad thing.

"You three stay in the car for a bit, okay? I'm gonna go talk to these people," you said to your siblings, motioning to the car as you turned around again and walked towards the people.

You felt nothing but dread in your gut as you approached them. One of the cops, who was talking to a distressed looking Margalida, looked at you and began to speak. "Miss (Y/L/N)?"

You nodded slowly, "Before we talk, can I just send my siblings inside?"

"That won't be possible," the officer said, making you raise an eyebrow, "...Because we're here regarding a call about a person inside, which we now know isn't you."

"I heard yelling from inside," Margalida added. "It was loud, and– and it sounded like there was crashing, from things being thrown around."

She took a deep breath, looking at you sympathetically. "I thought one of you was being hurt, so I called the police."

"I know your situation with the..." she paused, gesturing to the rubbish bin. You spun around, your eyes widening at the sight of it. Cans and bottles galore filled the bin to the brim, threatening to spill out. You could count at least ten, and that was only at the surface of the deep bin. You could recall the rubbish being collected just a few days ago, and now it was basically full.

She looked at you, her eyes pitiful. You hated it, so much; pity made you feel like a kid, and it angered you that the only time you got to relive any sort of childishness was when someone noticed you were suffering, not because you actually had the liberty to behave like one again. Where was the pity when you actually were a kid, having to wake up and stay afloat to support three other kids?

"Who else lives here, other than you and your — I'm assuming — siblings?" the other cop asked.

"My mother. My dad left a few years ago," you mumbled, looking at the ground.

"Is she home right now?" he asked, and you nodded. "Yeah. She's probably asleep, so if you did knock on the door, that's why nobody opened it."

"Asleep or blacked out?" his partner suddenly added. You looked at him, clenching your jaw as you shrugged. "How am I supposed to know? I've been at work all day."

"What do you do for work?"

"I'm a footballer."

"For FC Barcelona?"

"Buy a ticket and maybe you'll find out."

You ended up sitting across from the two officers and the social worker in a dingy, dark room scarcely furnished with only a table, three chairs and a dirty window to accessorise it. This time, the woman did most of the talking while the cops just surveyed the conversation. Magdalene, Dani and Lorenzo were sitting in the waiting room of the station — you didn't want to drag them along, but you didn't have much of a choice.

"Can you tell us a little bit about your family history that might correspond with the things reported to us today?" she asked, leaning across the table.

"My dad left when I was, I think.. 13. Cheated on my mum and left us all for another woman. My mum, uh, got out of control. She didn't take it well," you replied, not looking up once as your gaze was fixed on the chestnut-stained, chipped table.

"I see. Well, from the contents of the rubbish bin, I presume her coping had something to do with alcohol," the woman said. As if her apathy hadn't been obvious from the start, it was dripping off her every word and showing her true intents; not to help you, but to get this over and done with and throw your siblings into foster care, then consider her job done and get paid for it.

You nodded at her claim nonetheless, picking at the paint of the table. "Yeah."

"Have you or your siblings ever been subject to abuse, from either of your parents?" she continued

"No no, absolutely not, they never hit–"

"I'm not just talking about physical abuse, (Y/N)," she interrupted. It was the first time of the entire questioning you had looked up as you met her gaze, your eyes saying more than your mouth ever could.

"It was just a few arguments,” you responded coldly.

“When we asked Margalida, your neighbour, about if there’s been any incidents like this, she said there has been. Yelling, screaming, and lots of it,” the woman told you. “How many arguments are you considering a few, (Y/N)?”

The table shook from the impact of your hand slamming it sharply as you shot to your feet. "If you consider a couple arguments to be verbal abuse, go ahead. My mum is hurt and angry, very angry about her husband leaving her, so yeah, she drinks and we argue about it!"

"Listen, please sit down. I understand that you and your siblings are troubled children but–"

"I hate being a– I hate that term, 'troubled kid', you know? We aren't troubled! If we were troubled, wouldn't we be dead? Wouldn't we be troubled by an inability to continue living in these conditions, these... ruins?"

Silence. You sat down once again, your head in your hands.

"Do you have another location you can stay at?" she asked you. You shook your head, the feeling of dread burying itself deeper in your gut.

"Unfortunately, we will have to place your siblings in foster care. The living conditions are unsafe and unstable for kids their age to be living in," the social worker finished.

You wanted to burst into tears. You wanted to sob and sob and sob, harder than you ever have, but the tears wouldn't summon.

"There is another option," she spoke slowly, making you immediately look up from the darkness your palms shrouded you in.

"...we contact your father and see if he wants to look after them."

It sounded just as bad as placing them into foster care. Now, you wanted to scream in her face and call her utterly stupid for assuming that a man who abandoned his kids would want to take care of them years later to keep them out of the foster system. Why on God's green earth would he want to reap the consequences of his infidelity?

"Are you hard of hearing?" you scoffed. "Yeah, so, I said earlier that he left us years ago for another woman, you know, to make another family. He didn't want us."

"He's the only other option at the moment. Unless your mother can be moved to a rehabilitation center in sufficient enough time, and you become their legal guardians, they will end up with foster families. Possibly not even the same one."

The news weighed on you like bricks. It was all so much, you couldn't think straight and contemplate possible outcomes and solutions. You put your elbows on your table and held your head in your hands once again, taking a deep breath.

"Can I at least find someone myself who's willing to foster? Someone I know?" you asked, your tone being nothing short of desperate.

She took a moment to respond, and it was probably the most nerve-wracking few seconds of your life, until the ultimatum was spoken.

"I suppose, yes. That is basically the whole principle of fostering, so I see no issue. Until then, they will be placed in a temporary home before we start looking for a permanent family. A pair of officers have gone to detain your mother and we'll review the information from this questioning to determine whether she should be charged or put straight into a rehabilitation program."

"Thank you," you almost cried, your body relaxing from the little bit of relief and reassurance you had just received. There was still a possibility that you could get your siblings back.

The problem standing in your way now was, you didn't know anyone willing to foster. You had no idea who you'd turn to, and it actually made you realise that you were pretty alone in this whole ordeal, and life in general. You really did have nobody but yourself, and clearly there came a time where that wouldn't be enough.

"Magda, Dani, Enzo, come on. We're going now," you said as the door of the interrogation room swung open. You beckoned at the kids, who stood up and ran to you, following you out of the door.

You didn't want to go home yet, just in case the officers were still there and you'd arrive to the horrible scene of your drunkard mother getting dragged of her own house by the authorities, so you drove to the training pitch. You were in search of one person in particular, and hoping to avoid another one.

Parking the car in the same spot you had parked in the same morning, you quickly got out of the car and ushered the kids onto the pitch to play for a little bit while you went into the gym.

As soon as you walked through the automatic glass doors, the person you were searching for was stretching on a yoga mat, her resistance bands discarded above her head.

She sat up, looking at you with a mixture of surprise, confusion and concern, probably achieved from your sorrowful expression.

"Vicky, I need your help. Now."

[headlinxr]

𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 ─── 𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠

SYNOPSIS  !   You're a new nun at the church, and Father Hee Seung can't help but want to sin every time he sees you. You're like the Virgin Mary to him, but instead of seeking to help him, you want to destroy him.

GENRE. non idol!, au, priest x nun, forbidden relationship.

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

The silence of the church was dense and profound, a stillness so palpable that it seemed to envelop everything, like a velvet cloak that absorbed even the last of the whispers. The walls, old and worn by centuries of prayers, breathed in time with forgotten supplications, as if the entire temple were alive, pulsing with the memory of the sacrifices that had forged it. Father Hee Seung, wrapped in the cassock that fell over his body with the same seriousness with which he had embraced his vocation, was at the back of the sacristy, trapped in a sea of files and papers that seemed to whisper stories of lives and deaths intertwined with eternity. The dust covering each page was a testament to the years that had faded away, leaving no trace but the ink that slowly slid across the paper, like the inexorable passage of time, which, like water, erodes even the hardest rocks. Each page that passed through his hands was a reminder of the heavy burden of his existence: A monotonous routine that, despite being his choice, was beginning to feel like an endless sentence. The task before him was nothing more than a mundane act, a repetition of empty gestures that reminded him of the insignificance of his being in the face of the divine grandeur to which he had dedicated himself. Each of those papers, frayed by time, seemed to him a metaphor for his own soul, cracked, wrinkled, and exhausted by years of sacrifices and renunciations.

Fatigue enveloped him in silence, a subtle yet relentless force that sometimes threatened to consume him. He was not unfamiliar with the shadows that lurked in his spirit, those that emerged in moments of solitude, when the brilliance of faith, so bright and warm on clear days, dimmed like a lighthouse extinguished by fog. In those moments, the struggle against doubts became titanic, like a river eroding stones over time, and the agonizing question assailed him: How could the life he had chosen to serve God sometimes turn into a prison of endless silences and unsustainable sacrifices? The eternal peace he had sought, did it truly deserve the high price of his torn soul? These questions swirled in his mind, and as he moved the pen over the papers, like an automatic act of faith, he couldn't help but let the ink, black as the uncertainty of his being, become the only possible comfort. It was as if his existence, reduced to those simple gestures of recording names and dates, was the only way to find an echo in the vast void of his own sacrifice. Hee Seung felt trapped at the crossroads between duty and despair, between devotion and the silent rebellion of his being.

Despite everything, faith was his only salvation. It was the anchor that kept him steady, even when his soul was crumbling into pieces. The light of faith, although sometimes flickering, never went out completely. Despite the fatigue, he knew he had to follow the path he had chosen, like Christ at Golgotha, who, with each step under the weight of his cross, showed salvation in sacrifice. Hee Seung understood that her destiny was to bear her own cross, no matter how heavy, and that in that suffering she found her redemption. Just as the shadows dissipate at dawn, his faith promised him that, after the darkness, there would always be a glow. But even in that sanctuary of peace, where the scent of incense floated in the air like a reminder of the closeness of the divine, the desire to escape rose like a specter. Sometimes, the desire to flee, to leave behind the endless hours of service, the repeated prayers, the empty and solitary days, would overwhelm him. Did he not deserve to rest, for a moment, from the weight of his weary soul? But his faith, firm and solid, was greater than any human impulse. Devotion, though worn, always drew him back, like the magnet that keeps the faithful attached to the altar.

It was then, like a whisper among the shadows, that a soft voice broke the deafening silence of the sacristy. The voice slipped through the folds of the air, like a celestial song resonating with the sweetness of angelic choirs. Hee Seung turned slowly, not immediately recognizing whether the voice came from his consciousness or from a tangible being. And there, at the threshold of the light filtering through the stained glass windows, your figure appeared, one of the new nuns who had joined the community. Your presence seemed to overflow everything he had known until then, as if the very celestial light had taken human form. Your eyes, deep and serene, reflected the diffused light that passed through the colored glass, as if Christ himself had decided to illuminate with his eternal gaze. Hee Seung, accustomed to the stillness and austerity of convent life, felt overwhelmed by the softness and delicacy of the young woman. The vision of you, almost ethereal, appeared to him as a being from another world, as if purity itself had taken flesh before him.

It was as if the Virgin Mary, with her immaculate grace, had descended from the heavens to walk among men, and Hee Seung, upon beholding you, recognized in you a vision that transcended the limits of reason. Each of your movements, delicate and serene, seemed imbued with a peace that transcended human understanding. You were not simply another nun; to Hee Seung, you were a manifestation of the divine, an incarnation of the pure light he had worshipped in the scriptures, but now presented before him with an almost unbearable proximity. Your white habit fell over your figure with the softness of a celestial cloud, and on your face, so serene, Hee Seung saw the promise of redemption, of a purity that seemed brought directly from the celestial realm, like a gift offered on earth.

Hee Seung's heart skipped a beat. His faith, which had been a rock and refuge, shattered for an instant at the sight of you. In that instant, the stillness of his being transformed into a whirlwind of emotions, something he could neither comprehend nor control. The temptation, disguised as light, had infiltrated his soul, challenging everything he had built. How could it be possible that, in such a sacred place, purity itself became an object of desire? The Virgin Mary had been for him an unattainable symbol, a beacon of eternal grace that guided the faithful towards salvation. But you, so close, so real, represented that same purity, and yet, the desire to approach you, to touch you, felt like a transgression. The priest, caught between his faith and his own impulses, realized that his struggle was not just against the temptation of the body, but against the fragility of his humanity.

—Father Hee Seung… Do you need help?— Your voice pulled him out of his reverie.

He blinked, forcing himself to lower his gaze, as if he could extinguish the fire that had ignited in his chest. The sweetness of your voice, serene and filled with a divine stillness, seemed to challenge his very faith, as if God were testing him. In that brief moment of suspended silence, Hee Seung understood that his devotion, although solid, might not be enough to withstand the test of his humanity. The temptation had come, not as a dark shadow, but as a blinding light, so pure and so dangerous that it threatened to consume him.

—No, sister, I'm fine— he replied hastily, caught between courtesy and an irrepressible desire to flee. He averted his gaze to the disordered papers, but the pounding of his heart was so intense that he feared you might perceive it.

When you bent down slightly to pick up a folder that had fallen to the floor, Hee Seung felt a pang of guilt pierce through him like a thorn from Christ's crown. That closeness felt like a profane act, a subtle betrayal of his sacred vows. Your beauty, so delicate and radiant, evoked in him the representations of the Virgin Mary; however, the holiness of that thought was overshadowed by an earthly longing that filled him with terror.

—Excuse me, I must... I must take my leave— he stammered, leaving the room with hurried steps, like a penitent fleeing from a temptation too great to resist.

In the following days, Hee Seung couldn't help but look for you with his eyes. Although he sought refuge in his duties, every time he saw you in the cloister, in the chapel, or tending to the garden, his heart would fill with a mix of awe and torment. It was as if the divine light he longed for in his prayers now reflected in that woman, but in a way that made him teeter between spiritual fervor and human desire.

—It's a sin to look at a sister in Christ like that— he reproached himself as he gripped the rosary in his hands with such force that the wooden knots dug into his skin. However, his attempts to distance himself were in vain. Like a wandering pilgrim in the desert, he found in you an oasis that irresistibly attracted him, even knowing that drinking from it could condemn him.

What ultimately unleashed his anguish was the growing closeness between you and Father Jay, another priest from the church. Jay, always charismatic and affable, engaged her in conversations full of laughter and camaraderie. From a distance, Hee Seung watched them, feeling how envy, a sin he thought he had overcome, seized his soul like a shadow stretching as evening fell.

—If the love of Christ is infinite, why does my heart insist on reserving a portion for her?— he pondered in his moments of reflection. He felt like Peter stumbling over the waters, unable to keep his gaze fixed on the Lord. Every time he set his eyes on you, it was another step towards the abyss of his own weakness.

One day, while he watched you pray in the dim light of the chapel, he compared you to the Virgin Mary again, but this time, the weight of guilt felt like a hammer striking his conscience. —The Virgin is an intercessor, not an object of desire— he reproached himself, but he couldn't quell the overwhelming force of his feelings. You had become the personification of a spiritual dilemma: The most demanding test of his faith and also a revelation of the abyss of his fragility.

Finally, determined to confront his emotions, he went to the confessional, not in search of an immediate absolution, but to face the internal battle he could no longer ignore. As the words flowed from his lips like a held-back tear, he understood that his struggle was not only against his heart but also against the very essence of his vocation. The faith that had been his rock was wavering, but it also invited him to immerse himself in the unfathomable mystery of love: A love that, like the cross, could be both redemption and burden.

—Father, I have sinned— he murmured with a tremor in his voice that betrayed his shame. —My heart has been occupied by thoughts that dishonor my vocation. I have felt impure desires towards... Towards a sister of our community—

The silence behind the lattice seemed to stretch longer than necessary, as if the priest on the other side were processing the words with a mix of surprise and curiosity. Finally, a deep and familiar voice broke the silence:

—Go on, brother. Tell me, which sister are you talking about?— asked Father Jay, with a tone that, although firm, had an almost imperceptible hint of sarcasm.

Hee Seung felt a shiver run down her spine upon recognizing Jay's voice. He had naively hoped that it would be another priest who would hear his confession, someone who didn't know the context of his torment. He swallowed hard and continued with difficulty:

—It's... It's Sister (y/n). Since she arrived at our church, I haven't been able to help but look at her with... With thoughts that embarrass me. I have tried to fight against them, but the more I struggle, the more this attraction consumes me. I feel like I am betraying my calling and dishonoring God—

An unexpected sound filtered through the lattice: A brief, contained, but unmistakable laugh. Hee Seung's eyes widened suddenly, his face flushing with disbelief and humiliation.

—Oh, brother!— Jay exclaimed, stifling laughter. —You too have fallen under the spell of the sweet sister. But let me tell you something, something that might surprise you—

Hee Seung felt a knot form in his stomach, but remained silent, unable to interrupt what was to come. Jay, with a tone that mixed cynicism and confidence, continued:

—Brother, I must admit that I have already shared very... Close with Sister (y/n). In this very church, under these same sacred roofs. Does it surprise you? Does it scandalize you? You shouldn't. After all, we are human, not angels—

Jay's words struck Hee Seung like lightning in the midst of a storm. It was as if the very structure of his faith was shaking before that revelation. Confessions should not be profaned with mockery or the cynicism of those who trivialize the sacred.

—How can you talk like that?— Hee Seung replied, unable to contain himself. —This is blasphemy! We have sworn to serve God, to renounce the temptations of the world. And you...? Have you betrayed that?—

Jay sighed, as if speaking to an innocent child.

—Brother, sin and virtue are two sides of the same coin. We strive for perfection, but our humanity always drags us into the mud. If we don't understand our weaknesses, how can we help others overcome theirs? The sister (y/n)… She is a woman, like any other, and I am a man. Neither more nor less—

Hee Seung abruptly got up from the confessional, unable to stay another second in that space tainted by irreverence. His footsteps echoed on the stone floor as he left the chapel, feeling torn between anger, sadness, and a profound spiritual disorientation. The figure of Father Jay had lost all authority in his eyes, and the image of you now appeared to him as an even more unfathomable enigma.

In the solitude of his cell, Hee Seung fell to his knees, seeking solace in a prayer that never came. The weight of the confession and Jay's words were a burden that sank him deeper and deeper. —God, enlighten me— he pleaded, but the echo of his prayer only returned a crushing silence. He had learned that not all the walls of the church were sacred and that even in consecrated hearts, corruption could nest.

Father Hee Seung bowed his forehead over an old missal, the yellowed pages of the book imbued with the fragrance of incense from years past. His trembling fingers toyed with the beads of the rosary, like a castaway clinging to the remnants of a shipwreck. The candle on the table cast shadows that danced erratically on the walls, drawing shapes that seemed at times like guardian angels, at other times like mocking demons. His prayer was an erratic whisper, words that dissolved like grains of sand between his dry lips.

A discreet knock on the door broke the stillness of the moment, a sound so faint it seemed more like a whisper of the wind than a real interruption. But before he could react, the door creaked open, and the sound of the hinges filled the space like an echo in an empty cathedral.

On the threshold, enveloped in the soft halo of light filtering in from the hallway, you appeared. Your habit, cinched with an almost virginal simplicity, reflected the candlelight, but your eyes shone with a brilliance that seemed to contradict their modest appearance. There was in your gaze a disconcerting mix of devotion and defiance, a fire that seemed to have been ignited by a purpose higher than mere obedience.

—Father Hee Seung— you said, your voice sweet but firm, like a bell calling to mass. —Excuse my intrusion at this hour, but I couldn't wait any longer—

The priest stood up immediately, his cassock brushing the floor with a nervous whisper.

—Sister (y/n)…— he murmured, his voice laden with a mix of surprise and alarm. —This is not right. You shouldn't be here—

You closed the door with a deliberate movement, your hands moving with the serenity of someone who knows there is no turning back. You advanced towards him, your steps light as the flight of a dove, but your presence weighed in the room like a chalice filled to the brim.

—Father, I cannot ignore what I have seen in your eyes these days— you said, your voice enveloping the words with a delicacy that disarmed any resistance. —You have looked at me as someone searching for something beyond what the world can offer—

Hee Seung felt the heat rise up her neck, a blush that burned like a glowing ember.

—Me... I don't know what you're talking about, sister— he stammered, his voice broken as if the very air refused to cooperate —If I looked, it was... just distraction, nothing more—

You smiled then, and that smile was like the light filtering through the stained glass of a chapel at dawn, soft yet penetrating.

—Distraction...— You repeated, almost as if the word caused him tenderness. —Father, my arrival here has not been by chance. I have been sent to fulfill a divine purpose. I have come to relieve the forsaken hearts of this church. And yours, father... His soul, tormented and burdened with chains, is one that I must free—

Your words were like an echo from Genesis, where the voice of God separates light from darkness. But in this case, the two seemed to intertwine, and Hee Seung felt her spiritual strength crumble like the Tower of Babel amidst the chaos.

—Sister, what you're saying is... It's blasphemy— he tried to retort, although his voice lacked the firmness needed to convince her, or to convince himself.

You took a step closer, closing the distance between you, until both your breaths merged in the air thick with incense and something more.

—Blasphemy would be ignoring the voice that led me here— you replied —The Virgin is not only a symbol of purity; she is also a refuge for the lost, for those who have forgotten the way. If her eyes seek me, is it not my duty to be an instrument of her redemption?—

Your hand, delicate as an olive branch, rose to brush against Hee Seung's face. The contact was light, barely a touch, but within it there was a magnetic force that made him close his eyes, like someone who fears looking directly at the sun for fear of burning.

—Father, allow me to be the flame that illuminates your darkness— you whispered. —If your faith has led you to this trial, let me be the answer that reconciles you with yourself—

The silence that followed was dense, laden with possibilities and contradictions. Then, as if an invisible thread were pulling him, Hee Seung leaned his face towards yours. The kiss that followed was an act of surrender and rebellion, a wordless prayer ascending to the heavens while defying earthly rules. It was like the clash of two opposing worlds, where the divine and the human met in a moment overflowing with meaning.

When they parted, the candle on the table extinguished with a faint whisper, as if even the flame recognized that its light was insufficient to illuminate what had just occurred.

You looked at him with a serenity that contrasted with the turmoil in the priest's heart.

—This is just the beginning, Father— you said —Our path will be difficult, but divine grace always finds a way to guide us—

Hee Seung fell to his knees as you walked away towards the door, leaving him alone with his thoughts. His mind was a whirlwind of guilt, desire, and a question he couldn't answer: Was this an act of redemption, or the first step towards his downfall?

In front of the crucifix hanging on the wall, he whispered a prayer: —My God, if there is still hope for my soul... Show me the way—

But the silence that followed was neither condemnation nor absolution, just an abyss in which the struggle between flesh and spirit continued, incessantly, like a battle that would never be fully resolved.

[lo1k-diamonds]

Be as it must 💜 Part 2

“So you were behind these attacks? I didn’t know I worked for a criminal.”

PAIRING: Alpha!Jungkook x Omega(f)reader

SUMMARY: You wake up and find out who snatched you and why.

WORD COUNT: 2.7 k

GENRE: ABO, strangers to lovers, fated lovers, smut

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: anxiety, tension

A.N. A huge thank you to @moonleeai for the beta read💜 The plot thickens...

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The way your head hurt when you woke up was like the worst hangover you had ever felt. You groaned, shaking your head slightly, only to fight the nausea and sensitivity caused by the surrounding lights. There were voices around you talking quietly.

A female hushed voice, “Are you sure…?” 

And a male one full of certainty, “Absolutely, confirmed by everyone. Remarkable.”

He seemed almost fascinated, but you couldn’t focus on anything with the dizziness and discomfort overwhelming your senses.

“Fine, he’s coming anyway,” she sighed.

“You should give her some water,” the man suggested before you heard footsteps and a door opening.

More people coming in and out meant only more noise and hushed voices, which worsened your state. But then, suddenly, you remembered everything. You weren’t at a rowdy party the night before, you were scared shitless of being taken away and found out by the Families. And all the care in the world still didn’t prevent you from being grabbed outside your apartment building and injected with something and—

Your eyes snapped open, the anxiety spreading through your veins, enforcing a soberness that bypassed the nausea and migraine. Only, instead of making sense of things, you become even more overwhelmed and confused.

You were in a meeting room high in a big city, judging by the buildings and skyscrapers showing through the windows, illuminated by a sun making its descent into the sky. The passage of time was confusing, but the fact that you were sitting on a chair tied up definitely unnerved you. Yet before the violation and despair released your voice, you saw the people in the room.

Your eyes widened as you stared back at CEO Jeon Jungkook, who had a quizzical expression as he returned your gaze. Next to him, a tall, elegantly dressed woman was the picture perfect of a secretary, with black hair perfectly straightened by her shoulders contrasting with a light pink blouse.

You frowned, “What the hell?” 

The zip ties around your wrists offered resistance, and you were even more confused. Nothing made sense. You looked around again; you recognized the decor, you were definitely at the Seoul office. Your boss was right there. You were coming here anyway, but how would the kidnappers know? 

You frowned, shaking the haziness off so you could think, “Do you always kidnap your employees when they refuse your invitations?”

The CEO raised an eyebrow and moved closer, followed closely by the woman, despite her skeptical glances at you.

“I was coming here anyway, you know?”

“I do, actually. Yoon Minsik asked about you, since you never logged in to work or showed up at the office here, as you indicated.” 

He turned to the woman, who nodded and shrugged. She was looking at you with her lips pulled in a line, and it risked making your blood boil. What the fuck was she so disgusted by? You were the one tied up to a fucking chair!

“I see, so that's what happened,” he chuckled before coming close to you, and you frowned, blinking the confusion away.

“You do? Then please enlighten me, because I see no good reason for this,” you opened your hands to bring his attention down to the fact that you were tied up.

“Do you know her?”

He turned to the woman, “She's the lawyer from Busan that I mentioned yesterday.”

Your cheeks gained color that wouldn't be hidden since you didn’t put makeup on that morning. The fact that he mentioned you should be the least of your concerns right now!

“So what is this? An attempt to convince me to move here? Because whoever strategized it is absolutely out of their mind!”

The woman frowned with a hint of aversion, as though she thought you had gone crazy, and the CEO just tilted his head while he looked at you.

“You would surely know this has nothing to do with that,” he said curiously, and the woman neared to whisper again, though this time you heard it.

“See, she has to be a fake—”

“A fake what?! Why the hell am I tied up?!”

“Because you're an omega,” he answered quietly, as though his words held an enchantment.

You stiffened and stopped struggling. Finally, it dawned on you what was happening — you were taken and presented to the alpha head of one of the Families. You weren't there to work, you were there because of your secret.

You swallowed, “Is this necessary?”

His lips trembled, but the woman spoke first, “This is stupid, I don't believe her for a second. I'll call Jiyeong Soohyun to deal with her.”

“Sunhwa, wait,” he called to stop her in her tracks, and you all but exploded.

“Yes, Sunhwa, wait,” you closed your fists, narrowing your eyes at the woman. “What is really stupid, not to say criminal, is this situation! So you better think before you make it worse, and I sue you for everything you're worth!”

The woman laughed but CEO Jeon Jungkook held her wrist to stop her from coming close to you, “Come on, just breathe. Can't you smell her?”

Sunhwa looked at you and you at her, and unlike her, you scoffed and looked away. You had trained yourself so hard to suppress everything linked to your designation, that you had neglected smelling the room. You couldn’t stop that woman from picking up your scent, but you could use your senses to gain information only you could have, so you glanced at the couple again and breathed in slowly.

Piece by piece, it was as though the world moved. It didn't just start spinning when the notes of lilies and amber graced your nose, it recalibrated its axis. Your senses were overwhelmed suddenly, leading your body to react profusely to his presence. You had the fine-tune you were looking for the day before, making your heart race, your mouth water, and your core thrum. Your reaction was so visceral, you instantly tried crossing your legs to stop it, only to raise your eyes to the CEO’s and realize it was too late. He wasn't subtle, licking his lower lip slowly with his eyes fixed on yours, and you melted between your legs with the heat rising up your chest.

“She smells human to me,” Sunhwa shrugged, unaware of the spell you were under, which she just broke.

You clenched your jaw, annoyed more than anything by her mere presence, and finally assessed her. 

Your nose twisted in reflex before you could take her as a whole. She was pretty and certainly dressed well. You recognized the underlying scent of beta blood, so that justified her stake in the conversation, but her smell. Too sweet and delicate, just like roses. You instantly couldn't stand it.

Jungkook leaned closer to you and took a sniff, unaware his eyes sparkled the closer he got to you. He didn't need to go any closer to be certain; your notes of jasmine and ylang-ylang had tingled his nose and awoken his senses already from the hallway. The surprise that remained was that it was you, and so he was not only fascinated, but delighted. He knew from the day before that you were the type of person he'd feel inevitably drawn to, but now, it was visceral. You were so close, and he was so tempted to—

“So if you agree, I'll call Jiyeong Soohyun to deal with her like we did with the others.”

The CEO looked at Sunhwa as if she had just popped up inside the room, but you couldn't take pleasure in it. You struggled against your restraints, rebelling against everything. He was an alpha, and everything you felt was just his effect messing with you! He had you tied up to a freaking chair! And you were not about to admit anything out loud; who cared what they believed? You just wanted to leave!

“Untie me!”

He was so close to you that your request in that distressed tone instantly pushed him to action. His hands shook as he stopped himself from doing as you asked, and he broke down laughing. 

You paled, livid, and Sunhwa eyed him as if he had lost his mind, but he kept laughing with tears in his eyes. He was just so mind blown. To think you could influence him with a half thought blurted out, it was insane. He had never experienced anything like it, or maybe his memory was just bad. And yet, there was nothing more real than the weight of his desire, almost crushing him to his knees before you. So he could look up at you, touch you, drag his nose over the soft pulse of your wrist while your voice soothed his soul.

He could only laugh at any suggestions that you weren’t an omega. The only question was how to proceed forward. 

He cleared his throat and kneeled before you to cut your zip ties off, uncertain if his eyes didn't reveal the pleasure tingling up his arms at the gesture. One look at you before you stood from your chair abruptly told him you weren't in the condition to notice it. You were distressed, and rightly so.

He heaved a deep breath, ready to handle it, when you said, “So you were behind these attacks? I didn’t know I worked for a criminal.”

The way you rubbed your wrists and looked at him with suspicion threw him off, but it was Sunhwa who reacted first.

She scoffed, “What attacks?” Her voice pitched as if she was being personally attacked, “Those people were verified, nothing more!” 

Your expression blanked as you faced her with all the skepticism and blatant distrust you could muster. What the hell did that even mean?

Sunhwa stepped toward Jungkook with a pleading expression, “She acts like a human, behaves like one too. This is ridiculous, there are no more omegas. It has to be a mistake!”

You rolled your eyes but didn't dignify that with an answer. Your moral code prevented you from lying, and you weren't certain on whether the truth in this case would work in your favor or not. Would you be allowed to leave? Would they harm you if they thought you were human, even though you were an employee? You weren't certain if Sunhwa couldn't or wouldn't recognize your blood, so it was hard to decide a course of action.

Fortunately, the CEO made it easier, “There's no mistake.”

The way he looked at you was enough; the way he spoke, lowly under his breath, halted your thoughts for a moment. There was a tension pulling you to—

“But—” Sunhwa looked at you in disbelief. “Just— Just get rid of her, and it will all be—”

“No one is getting rid of anyone,” he glared at her, finally out of patience. Didn't he just say you were legit? How could she be so dumb? Why would he ever let you go?

You crossed your arms casually though your voice was venomous, “Getting rid? Thought you weren’t criminals, but you have a human trafficking ring or something?”

You were about to go on a tangent about the law, and how being an omega gave them no right to kidnap you, when the CEO turned to you with a hard gaze. The world shifted out of focus while your whole attention trained on him.

“I’d stay quiet if I were you.”

Your stance instantly hardened. You actually thought you could have a civilized conversation with that m— with that alpha?

Shame on you. 

He had turned to talk to Sunhwa and you simply circled them in the direction of the door. 

He reacted on instinct, grabbing your arm, “Where are you going?”

“Away,” you stated, pulling your arm, and since he didn't let go, it brought him closer. “I'm not one to stay quiet, so unless you plan on speaking candidly with me about this mess or sending for Jiyeong Soohyun to handle me how you did countless others, I conclude that I'll be walking out of here now.”

Jungkook was licking his lips before he could help it. The tension rising up his arm from where you two touched was unparalleled, leading him to wonder how you could even formulate such thoughts and sentences under its influence. But more importantly, you misunderstood him; he didn't want you gone. He wanted to get rid of Sunhwa before he could talk to you. Ideally, to change everything so he was a free man to—

“Let me go.”

His grip loosened instantly, and he cursed mutely; he just couldn't think near you. Not if it wasn't about you.

But you were about to leave and that couldn't happen.

“I'll speak with you. Sunhwa, thank you for your help. I can attest to her omega designation, so there's nothing further. You're dismissed for the day.”

Sunhwa’s eyes widened impossibly in disbelief, but she still bowed and left. Her glare was hot on you before she closed the door, but you were already over it. The CEO held the actual power, and you wanted your freedom.

“Please, sit.”

He motioned to the other side of the room, a corner with two couches, and you raised an eyebrow, “Are there more zip ties in the picture?”

“No, I promise.”

He did sound guilty, so you nodded and sat on the couch. He sat on the other, giving you enough space.

“But you do engage in this kind of barbaric methods,” you insisted. “Hunting and kidnapping people.”

He licked his lips to hide a smile, “You never denied you were an omega.”

“I don't see the point in denying the obvious. I do, however, in understanding why someone of your character would resort to such methods.”

“My character?”

He smiled widely, amused, and it obliterated your defenses. Your heart started racing, willing to overlook your irritation and frustration, but you cleared your throat, “Maybe I should have said standing. Your character so far leaves much to be desired.”

“I'm sad to hear that,” he said, and the way his eyes lowered to the white carpet made you believe him. “Regarding the methods, I didn't approve of them personally. They're traditional, as you well know.”

Your eyebrows jumped and he observed you curiously. 

“Busan is Jeon territory, so searches are standard. Of course, the Family is searching for my sake, but it's an old practice. Outdated; I shall see to abolish it.”

You pursed your lips, “Now that you found what you were looking for?”

He couldn't help a laugh, “Certainly.”

You didn't have the right to deny it, but you swallowed dryly, “What do you plan on doing?”

“Well, first, I'd like to make myself available for any question you might have, about this or otherwise.”

When had the intensity of his eyes shifted like this? Your skin instantly tingled, attuned to him, like he had a direct line of contact to your senses.

“Then, I thought to make it up to you by welcoming you in my guest suite.”

You blinked, “Why?”

“For your comfort, of course. I haven't forgotten you were here to give the Seoul office a chance—”

“I came here to facilitate the American consortium negotiations,” you corrected a bit defensively.

He smiled, “So I leave it up to you whether you need a few days or not before you can get on that.”

You were already shaking your head when you gasped, “Today's meetings!”

“Were rescheduled for tomorrow at my request. Couldn't risk anything being decided without my best legal representative present.”

You fought the wave of warmth spreading through your chest. “I'll stay the few days necessary to carry out the negotiations. Then, I'll return to Busan.”

Your shoulders squared as you spoke, aware of what you were doing. You had asserted he found what he was looking for and that you wanted to leave. Would he go back to kidnapping and coerce you now? Would he go against your will?

He tensed under your gaze, aware of what you were asking. His eyes hid for a moment, his palm rubbing on his leg in thought.

You could barely process the way his thighs strained his dress pants before he spoke, drawing in your eyes again.

“Alright, agreed.”

[queerfables]

The Rules of the Twist

Given the themes of deception and sleight of hand in Good Omens season 2, I think most of us agree it's at least possible there's some kind of twist waiting to be revealed in season 3. We're bouncing around a lot of theories, but I wanted to take a step back and look at the general shape of what we might expect.

The big twist we've seen before in Good Omens is Crowley and Aziraphale's body swap. (Okay, technically it was an appearance swap. But that just doesn't sound as pithy.) Rather than anticipate an exact repeat of this trick, I'm considering the swap as a sort of model. What does it tell us about the rules Neil plays by when he pulls a twist in this story? What clues can we expect, and what can we not count on? Sure, there's no guarantee that a season 2 twist is going to map exactly onto what we've seen in the past, but I think it's a reasonable place to start. Take these as guidelines and take them with a grain of salt, but if you're sorting through all our fascinating Good Omens theories and trying to decide what you think, you might find them helpful.

So then, what are the rules?

Broadly speaking, Neil plays fair with twists. He foreshadows and includes enough hints for the audience to make a reasonable guess at what's going on, or at least to look back after the reveal and go, "oh, of course". But he still keeps some cards close to the chest.

During the body swap, there are two big gaps in the information we're given:

Key events happen off screen The swap happened between scenes, during a time that it was only suggested, not confirmed, that Crowley and Aziraphale would be together. The transition between these scenes also used film and tv conventions to make that passage of time "invisible" - we see Crowley and Aziraphale get on the bus, and then we see them in the morning going about their days separately, and we're conditioned to think nothing important could have happened in between.

Key tools (eg abilities, items, information) haven't been shown before The swap was not something we'd ever seen Crowley and Aziraphale do, and it wasn't something they'd ever talked about either. It fit comfortably into the established world building but it hadn't been specifically signposted as a possibility.

The other big twist that Good Omens pulled was the romance between Gabriel and Beelzebub as the explanation for Gabriel's disappearance from heaven. Both of these information gaps are involved here too. The offscreen event is obviously the meetings between Gabriel and Beelzebub that lead to them falling in love - up until Gabriel's flashback sequence, the only indication they'd ever met each other was a brief conversation at the airbase during Armageddon. The tool that we haven't seen before is Beelzebub's ability to create a fly vessel for Gabriel's memories (protecting him in much the same way that Crowley and Aziraphale protected each other with their body swap, in fact).

These are pretty big gaps, really. And given that Neil knew there'd be years between seasons 2 and 3, I expect he would have leaned pretty heavily into them if he wanted to hide something. So how do we predict a twist if we can't know where it is and haven't seen what it might involve?

Unanswered questions

This is the big one. Looking at where the furniture isn't, you might say.

What's interesting is that the questions that point to a twist aren't usually subtle or ambiguous. For the body swap, the two converging questions were: what did Agnes' last prophecy mean, and how could Crowley and Aziraphale survive their executions? In season two, some of the unanswered questions signposting Gabriel/Beelzebub were: how did Gabriel lose his memory, why was he carrying a box, what was the significance of the song he kept singing, who was he at the Resurrectionist with...

I think guesses about upcoming twists are most convincing when they seek to tie up loose threads from the show. For this reason, I'm a little skeptical of theories proposing the kiss between Crowley and Aziraphale involved some kind of twist. It isn't impossible, I just don't see any unanswered questions there. (Savvy readers may note that I too have speculated about a twist hidden in the kiss. I do find the possibility fun, but it's not a theory I'm seriously committed to). If I was going to really buy into one of these theories, I'd want it to explain one of my big unanswered questions other than "but how could they get into a fight that hurts me so deep in my soul?" That's definitely a question I have, but not technically a mystery.

It's worth noting that in the case of the body swap, we were initially given a false answer to the question "how did they survive their executions?" The angels and demons watching attribute it to Crowley and Aziraphale having "gone native", believing that their natures had fundamentally changed, making them immune to holy water and hellfire. It might be the case, then, that some of the apparently resolved questions this season warrant further investigation. Is there more to the story of Gabriel's disappearance than we know, for example?

2. Unexplained details

If examining an unanswered question is looking at where the furniture isn't, then this is where we take all the pieces of furniture piled up in storage and see if we've got anything that fits. Everything is fair game here: script, acting, music, props, sets, costumes, editing, camera angles, audio effects, visual effects, everything. If it's on the screen or coming through the speakers, it was put there on purpose by multiple teams of highly skilled and attentive creators all working together to create the final product.

I think you could probably do an entire meta on all the little details pointing towards the season 1 body swap, but here are some of the big ones:

"Crowley" sees the restored Bentley, but takes a taxi instead of driving it

"Aziraphale" circles "Crowley" when they order their ice creams, the way Crowley more typically moves around Aziraphale

"Crowley" says "tickety boo", an extraordinarily Aziraphalean phrase

The collar on "Crowley's" jacket is a beige tartan rather than its usual red

There are general differences in the ways David Tennant and Michael Sheen embody the characters throughout the swap

Similarly, Gabriel and Beelzebub's romance has lots of small details pointing to it. The big one that keeps showing up is the connection between Gabriel and flies. He mentions them and interacts with them repeatedly, and although it isn't obvious at first glance, there's a fly in the box that he carries to the bookshop. This all culminates in the reveal that it's the same fly, Beelzebub's gift to him.

Here's the problem, of course: if everything in the show is intentional and crafted with meticulous attention to detail, how do we know what actually matters? This is why I think it's so important to look at the unanswered questions first. There's a joy in seeking out Easter eggs and connecting all the dots, and sometimes you might strike gold this way, but there's also a lot of noise in the signal. It's helpful to know the general shape of what you're looking for, so you'll know when you've found it.

You can reverse engineer this. Start with details that jump out at you and then look for a puzzle they might explain. This works, but it's a little easier to get lost in the weeds, struggling to sort out what's significant and what's a fun reference to another piece of media or a hint to a question that's already been resolved. Going back to the twists we've already seen on this show, the unanswered questions around them were really big and obvious, so I think it's a good idea to ask: if I hadn't noticed this detail, would I have thought this was a mystery that needed solving?

Okay, but what do we do with this?

Well, maybe nothing. These criteria can't confirm or rule out any theories, after all. I'm laying it out like a rubric but it isn't really, I'm just describing a few storytelling patterns we've seen before and making some rough guesses about how they might show up again. If I were really serious about this I'd probably take a look at other examples of Neil's work and see how well my model holds up there, but the truth is I'm not really familiar with enough of his other works to do this. (Confession time: I was always more of a Pratchett fan).

The main reason that I've laid everything out like this is it informs my thinking when I stress test my own theories, and I figured other people might be interested in it. I'm also hoping it will help me to be able to refer back to this when I write meta in the future. For my own purposes, I find a breakdown like this helpful because it gives me a sense of how a writer approaches their story, where they'll tip their hand and where they'll hold things close. It's no guarantee and it wouldn't be any fun if it was, but in a lot of cases we're not aware of our own patterns, so it can be surprisingly illuminating.

[writingquestionsanswered]

Hey! I was just wondering if you have any ideas of how I can display the fact that a character has aged (not necessarily from adult to elder but just in general) without describing appearance. I’ve tried searching it up but they never really want into detail or they simply advised on changing the character slightly as in giving them old fashioned hobbies. I’m sorry if this has already been answered or does not simply have a direct way and must be decided by the author. Again I am very sorry if this has already been asked I really don’t mind if you either direct me to the answer or copy and paste it if so :)

Showing a Character Has Aged

When it comes to illustrating that someone has aged, you basically have four choices: describe physical characteristics that illustrate age, describe physical activities that illustrate age, indicate the passage of time, flat-out state that the character has aged.

The problem is that aging isn't a wildly specific thing. People don't take on certain physical characteristics, appearance, or activities at exactly the same age. While there are certainly some activities and behaviors that are broadly specific to age categories, age is not accurately defined by behavior, thought process, personality, etc.

If I say, "The last time I'd seen my nephew he was barely crawling, and now he was not just walking, but climbing on everything..." that's a pretty good indicator that this child has aged. But how much? Because babies don't all learn to crawl at the exact same age, or learn to walk at the exact same age for that matter. Some babies skip crawling and go straight to walking. Other babies seem like they'll never go from crawling to walking and suddenly do. This child could be two weeks older than last time or two years older. It isn't clear at all.

Complicating things is the fact that physical appearance is also not a good indicator of age. I mean... as I've pointed out in the past, Paul. Rudd:

Carrol O'Connor (on the left) is the same age in that photo as Paul Rudd is in the photo on the right (both are early 50s here). And while things like hairstyle and fashion do have an impact on how we view someone's age, some people just get wrinkles/gray hair/gain weight/lose muscle tone sooner or later than others.

And, the advice to "give them old-fashioned hobbies" is terrible. "Old-fashioned hobbies"? What, like candle-making and churning butter? What does that even mean? Maybe these people view hobbies like knitting, stamp collecting, and wood-working as "old-fashioned," but I guarantee those are hobbies that are broadly enjoyed by young people to this day.

If I write, "She sat on the couch lovingly knitting a sweater," that tells me nothing about her actual age because:

And, again, the woman on the left could be sixteen or thirty-five, and the woman on the right could be sixty-two or eighty-six.

So, outside of flat out stating that a character has aged, your best bet is to use a combination of these methods to get the point across...

"It had been over ten years since I last saw Mr. Smith. At the time, he'd recently returned from hiking in the Alps. Now he was hunched over a walker, his formerly salt-and-pepper hair now stark white. The deep grooves that had once made his face look handsome and worldly now made him look wizened and tired."

Between stating the amount of time that has passed (over ten years), physical activities (hunched over a walker vs hiking in the alps), and physical appearance (white hair and tired wrinkles vs salt-and-pepper hair and handsome lines), it is very clear that Mr. Smith has aged quite a bit in the decade since the POV character last saw them.

I hope that helps!

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

A Rite Of Passage: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2k

Summary: A case brings you to a small town in Texas that is close to Mexico's border. Someone is killing people who illegally cross the border, and he's a lot closer than you think.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Season Five Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

"Where are all the deputies?" JJ asks.

"Maybe they found another head."

"No, the sheriff would have contacted us. Have you heard from her this morning?" Hotch asks JJ.

"No, sir, I wasn't expecting to, though."

"JJ, come with me." Hotch and JJ walk into the station and you follow them to see what's going on. The receptionist is on the radio talking to someone when you enter. "What's going on?"

"It's the sheriff. She's missing. She never came in this morning. Her cruiser's missing, too. The whole department's looking for her."

"Did she say anything to you? Was she working on something?" Hotch asks.

"She was gone before we left here last night."

"Gone where?"

"I thought she went home."

"I called her last night but she didn't answer. I wanted to question one of her deputies," you say.

"Have Garcia trace her cell phone and see if she had any incoming calls last night."

The CB radio the receptionist is using crackles to life and Deputy Boyd's voice comes over the radio knowing you're listening in.

"This is Boyd. Oh, God. I found her. God, she's all... Just get me some help. Hurry."

Dread creeps down your spine at his words. You have a feeling he killed her to shut her up. Your team heads over to the place where the Sheriff is. Her other deputies are already on the scene having heard Boyd on the CB radio.

"Deputy. Is that the sheriff?" Hotch asks.

"Yeah, that's her."

You walk over to her with Rossi and Hotch only to see her dismembered. Her hand is missing, her eyes are gone, and her tongue has been cut out. Everything that Omar said he'd do to send a message. No, this is all wrong. Omar didn't do this. Boyd did. His energy is everywhere and Omar's is nowhere to be found.

"This isn't the same. This is angry. It's a completely different MO."

"It's a new victimology," Rossi says. "He goes from impossible to identify illegal immigrants to a law enforcement officer?"

"We're profiling a guy who picks on the weakest in a crowd. I didn't know her that well, but weak doesn't seem to fit the sheriff."

"It's not random," Hotch says. "It's what Omar Morales said he would do to a body to send a message."

"It's not Omar," you say to Hotch. "It's Boyd. He killed her. His energy is everywhere. I don't see Omar's at all. God, I should have questioned Boyd before he went home."

"It's not your fault, but we were in the interrogation room without Boyd. He didn't hear any of what he said."

"I'm just telling you what I see."

You walk back to the police cars where everyone else is.

"Is it her?" Spencer asks.

"What's left of her. Is there anything in her car?"

"Nothing that would indicate where she was headed last night. There are no notebooks and no logs."

"Her body is mutilated in exactly the way that Omar Morales, the drug trafficker, said he would mutilate a body. Y/N thinks is Deputy Boyd. His energy is all over the place, but only Ruiz and I heard Omar say that."

"Wait, Boyd and I heard it, too. We were outside watching by the window," JJ says.

"Deputy Gannon, where's Deputy Boyd?" Hotch asks.

"He and Gentry went to pick Omar up."

You can't be too upset over them not listening to you. You're in a constant state of having to prove yourself to them. You rely on spiritual facts, not physical. They were taught to rely on physical so it's going to take a lot of time and effort on your part to make them see what you see. One deputy stays behind to assist the crime scene investigators while the rest head over to the garage where Omar lives and works. Emily calls Gentry to warn him of Boyd but she doesn't get very far because he abruptly hangs up on her. There is a dead man right outside who has not only his energy but Boyd's surrounding him.

"Reid, JJ, you two stay out here and be alert," Hotch says.

The rest of you head inside the garage with guns in hand. There is another dead body by the entrance of the place and two more when you go further in. One of them is Gentry while the other is Omar. He is lying on his stomach with shotgun holes in his back and a pistol in his hand. Gentry is lying on his back with pistol wounds in his chest and a pistol on the ground near him.

"Does this look legit to you?" Derek asks.

"Omar took shotgun hits. Gentry only has a pistol, and there's no powder residue on Omar's hands, either."

Emily finds Gentry's phone on the ground smashed to pieces.

"Oh, my God. What if he heard me?"

"Gannon, where would Boyd go?"

"I don't know."

"This is no time to be covering up. He killed your boss and Gentry."

"I'm not covering. I don't know the guy that well. No one does. He's a loner."

Everyone heads back to the car where JJ and Spencer are while you take out your phone and call Penelope.

"Pen, Deputy Boyd is our unsub. He has a police radio. Can you track it?"

"Yeah, what's his unit number?"

"Call the sheriff's station. Get the serial numbers from the dispatcher."

"Okay, give me a second."

"We profiled him as a hunter," Emily says.

"Now, he's the hunted. He'll go someplace he feels safe. Someplace he knows he can control."

"Home?" Rossi asks.

"No, I think it's a preplanned location."

"I've got him. He's heading northbound," Penelope says over the phone. "He's is not on a road at all. He's driving through the desert."

"Keep tracking him, Garcia."

"He lives in a trailer out west of town," Gannon says.

"Where is he running to if not home? Deputy, you take Morgan, Prentiss, and Reid to his house and see what you can find. I need your radio."

Gannon hands his radio over to Hotch.

"What are you going to do?" Derek asks.

"Keep him busy." The group of four leaves in one car. Hotch presses the button on the side of the radio and speaks into it. "Deputy Boyd, this is Agent Hotchner with the FBI. I know you can hear me. You have no place to go."

"This is my desert. Do you think you can find me out here? I'd invite you to try," he responds.

"Cocky little bastard," Rossi growls.

"The trouble is he's right. We don't know anything about this desert."

"I hope they can find something at his house," JJ sighs.

"Boyd, this doesn't have to end any worse than it already is," Hotch says.

"Is that right?"

"Turn yourself in. I'll tell the judge you cooperated."

"This is Texas, Agent. Do you think the judge gives a damn whether or not someone cooperated when he's handing out the death penalty? Now, don't get me wrong. I wouldn't have it any other way. That's the only way to deal with someone like me."

"Do you think he's suicidal?"

"That or he's bluffing," Rossi shrugs.

"What's north of here?"

JJ takes out a map and lays it over the hood of the car.

"A whole lot of nothing."

"He's not panicking. There's something out there and he's headed for it."

Boyd's house is where he decapitated all of his victims because his entire trailer is filled with blood and guts from his victims. The only thing they found that is of importance is a newspaper clipping from the Golden Harvest factory that makes grain and seed. The clipping is about a death that happened to foreman Fred Boyd, Deputy Boyd's father. The Golden Harvest factory, when you look it up, has a big sun painted on the side of it. The same sun that that young boy thought he saw when he crossed the border.

You, Rossi, and Hotch head out to the factory while Derek and Emily leave Boyd's house to join you. You are holding the MP-5 in the backseat checking to make sure everything is in working order.

"Try not to shoot that inside the car," Hotch says.

"Who do you think I am? You just don't want me to deafen you."

"Exactly."

"There's his vehicle," Rossi says when Hotch pulls up to the abandoned factory.

Hotch parks and all three of you get out. The sun is beating down on you but you ignore the beads of sweat sliding down your face. The hairs on the back of your neck stand and a chill runs down your spine and it isn't because of the heat. Something isn't right. You can feel Boyd's angry eyes on you.

"You take the side door. We'll take the front. Watch the windows up top," Hotch orders.

Right before you three can split up, you look at the open barn doors in the front. You hear the rev of the engine before you see the quad. You hear the bullet flying before you see it.

"Get down!" you shout.

You practically tackle Hotch and Rossi to the ground just as Boyd comes racing out on the quad with a big gun. You three are hiding behind a big tractor and wooden crates but if Boyd comes to the front then he will have a clear shot of you three. The sound of a car coming reaches your ears and you look to the right to see Derek and Emily racing toward the factory. Boyd decides to take them head-on and flies over to them while shooting. Derek takes the MP-5 and starts shooting from inside the car.

It's safe to say that Boyd doesn't get very far.

"Are you two okay?" you ask.

"Yeah. We're good," Rossi nods.

You three get up and head over to the car. Derek gets out and keeps his gun trained on Boyd even though he isn't moving. Emily stumbles out of the car with her hand on her right ear.

"Are you okay?" Derek asks.

"Yeah, we're good."

"No! Are you out of your mind? You blew out my eardrum," Emily shouts.

"What did you want me to do? He was coming right at us."

"I told you I had him!"

"He was shooting at us, Emily."

"Well, you could have given me a heads-up," she glares.

"The loaded MP-5 and the lunatic shooting at us wasn't enough? Come on."

Local police go to the factory to take care of Boyd's body, and everyone heads out to Boyd's place where he buried all of his victims. He sent the heads out as a message but he needed to bury the bodies someplace where they wouldn't be found. With your help, you found each and every grave he ever dug.

"The state's sending out a crime scene team," Hotch says after he got off the phone.

"It's going to be hard to identify the bodies without missing persons reports."

"I called that advocate, Richard Corral, and he's contacting families with missing relatives. He's gonna try and get some DNA," Emily informs.

"This is a mess," Derek sighs.

"It would have been a bigger mess without Sheriff Ruiz, and it would still be happening."

"Did she have any family?" you ask.

"I already have Garcia checking into it," JJ says.

"I'm going to call Brooklyn homicide and talk to some of the guys I know there. They'll honor her shield." She left New York to come here so there is a whole family of officers who she left behind that will honor her memory. "Let's go home."

Everyone is resting on the plane but you and Hotch. You're by the small coffee machine making a drink when he approaches you.

"Didn't want to get any sleep with the rest of them?"

"No, I guess not. How are you doing? I've noticed you're doing a lot better."

"I'm feeling a lot better," you smile.

"I see therapy was a good thing for you?"

"Yeah, I wasn't too keen on it in the beginning but she's really helped me. She really knows her stuff. Thank you for making me go."

"You're welcome."

"How are you and Jack doing?"

Hotch sighs and leans against the bathroom door.

"It's hard but we're working through it."

"If you ever need me and Spencer to watch Jack, we're more than happy to do that. Give yourself a break."

"Thank you," Hotch smiles. "It'd be nice to come home to a quiet house every once in a while."

You smile and leave his side to rejoin Spencer's. As soon as you sit down next to him, he shifts and places his head on your shoulder. You lean your head on his and pull out a book to read.

"Many persons have the wrong idea of what constitutes true happiness. ... It is not attained through self-gratification but through fidelity to a worthy purpose." - Helen Keller.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[transingthoseformers]

So this is about TF1 Sentinel post-death faced with punishment.

Got inspired via Pan's Labyrinth by Guillermo Del Toro, specifically the Pale Man sequence.

I like to think of this as a 'divine retribution' by some form of higher powers choosing to make Sentinel suffer. Method of choice is pure isolation & slow death rather than the quick offlining via D-16's hands.

This post borrows the concept of Sparkeaters & cannibalism; I guess this is a horror-themed submission.

........

Pay your debt. I will send word to {distorted audio} to collect you.

Light envelops Sentinel's entire being.

Sentinel awakens to face a clear auburn sky on Cybertron's surface. He doesn't recognise the voice that spoke those words to him, but that's the least of his worries.

Sentinel does remember getting torn apart by D-16, but he looks down to see his torso back in one piece and his spark readings seem normal. He'll take it as a sign of Primus' goodwill.

Sentinel begins wandering the plains looking for energon, his tank indicator is showing low on reserves. He can't afford to transform & expend what little he has. Sentinel is desperate as he doesn't want to cease functioning, he single-mindedly believes he must have energon in some form or another.

So countless cycles later, Sentinel finds an ancient ruin sealed away in isolation. It's an underground chamber that has one entry hatch. The chamber seems to be buried into the rock face of a mountain, possibly the chamber was always there but the mountain formed over it through the passage of time. Its hatch is slightly ajar but inviting.

Sentinel enters the chamber in hopes of energon. He is surprised to see the interior of the chamber is well preserved: decorative lights line the walls, the pathway forward is conveniently laid out for him beside a myriad of paintings.

Sentinel doesn't understand these paintings that depict mechs getting torn apart by what looks like another grey mech. The final painting is the same grey mech with four servos each holding a different object: T-Cog, Optics, Brain module, Spark chamber. The grey mech is painted with sharp derma and a hollow chest cavity.

Forging on, Sentinel comes to the core of the chamber: a lavish table of energon of colourful varieties and meticulous craftsmanship. Not even the High Class mechs of his memories ever had something like this. Sentinel has never seen the likes of shaped energon apart from a cube form, it makes his tanks yearn for a taste. He picks up several energon treats to inspect them - all of them appear to have been freshly prepared. The alternative he considers is they're well-preserved.

As Sentinel observes the spread, his optics come across a lone mech seated at the table head. A simple memory retrieve tells Sentinel that is the grey mech featured in the paintings.

Sentinel wonders why there's more chairs around the table if there's only one at the table.

Logic tells Sentinel there's a reason the mech hasn't engaged with Sentinel and the table of energon goodies. Sentinel cautiously approaches the mech who hasn't moved an inch.

The grey mech seemed rather odd:

The first striking detail was the lack of facial optics. It had a normal looking faceplate but optic sockets where optics were expected, almost as if they were torn out.

it had wings of a flight-frame type - Sentinel questions why a flier is buried underground in a cramped chamber.

Lack of T cog meant no transformation, good thing Sentinel still has his own. There were faint readings of a life signal from Sentinel's gauges, near death is what Sentinel felt it described.

the mech was slightly thinner than Sentinel with much less armour plating. With the spread of energon on the table, Sentinel wonders how this mech isn't gorged & fat on energon.

It had extremely sharp digits.

The grey mech's line of 'sight' was only on the table and nothing else.

Sentinel's multiple attempts to jostle the mech seemed to yield no results. The grey mech failed to acknowledge each one of Sentinel's provocations.

Sentinel could only conclude this mech was either close to offlining or in deep recharge.

So he gorges on the energon. Some of it tastes a little funny, but fuel here is fuel that shall not be wasted on a seemingly lifeless mech. He starts scooping armfuls of energon as well.

The grey mech quietly stirs to life at its seat. Softs whirrs and clicking joints lock into place.

Sentinel has a mouthful of energon when he sees the movement from the grey mech. It has stood up, with its gaze on himself. A servo is outstretched pointing to Sentinel and the grey mech emits an unholy screech. Sentinel has never seen a jaw so unhinged before.

The grey mech lunges at Sentinel with snapping derma. Sentinel drops his stolen energon to fend off the mech. He is only just able to push it away, but the effort exerted is disproportionate: his limbs feel heavy & he was easily exhausted by that. The grey mech tumbles into one of the chairs, a crunch sound is heard - the grey mech has an injured pede.

For a brief moment, Sentinel wonders if the mech doesn't eat the energon because it doesn't replenish your energy but rather depletes it.

At this rate, Sentinel might actually cease his function. This terrifies the blue bot. He sees the grey mech starting to get up and hobble, broken pede is being ignored.

There's only one way out; Sentinel makes haste for the chamber exit, only considerably slower than before.

The grey mech continues screeching for Sentinel as it chases.

Sentinel's vision is starting to blur, he's almost at the exit but he topples over as fatigue overtakes.

The last he sees is being dragged away from the exit and the door sealing shut.

...

For a time there is only darkness to Sentinel.

And then a ripple of pain.

Sentinel tried to online his optics, but no visual feedback came through. The pain felt like blades cutting down in Sentinel's frame, probably the grey mech was trying to bite its way through Sentinel.

Engaging transformation sequence was not an option as the thing had also stolen this T-cog.

He could detect the armour plating forcefully torn from his protoform. The creature was clawing at his Spark chamber.

Although Sentinel resisted, he was powerless but to accept his demise as the creature dug its sharp servos into his Spark chamber and had its meal....

-----

The glow of Sentinel's spark sits contained in the darkness of the creature's tank. Bright & freshly harvested, forever engrained with the threat of extinguishing.

The spark pulses in panic. Its futile efforts are heard by none. There is no body to command, no receptors to receive its transmissions.

The spark knows it's being drained.

Slowly.

-----

The chamber sits with its entryway open once more. The creature residing inside sits patiently at the table with the chamber looking pristine again.

In it's servos is a final piece of blue plating ready to be devoured. With a strong crunch of its jaws, the plating shard enters its digestive tanks like the rest of Sentinel had.

Till all are gone.

Satisfied, the grey mech powers down until its next meal.

---------

Annnnnd cut!

I hope this wasn't too distasteful.

Have a good one!

-R

Oh fascinating!

Sparkeaters are so interesting, and it must be such a horror to see one for the first time and not know what it is.

[nqathan1]

PMD Explorers opinion (fine, yes, it’s a headcanon, but it’s about the ramifications of time travel, so bear with me):

It’s actually a really good thing Grovyle and [hero] got attacked and separated.

If they hadn’t, they would never have met [partner]. This is bad for a number of reasons. First and foremost, it’s [partner] who has the relic fragment that lets you into the Hidden Land. Without it, no Lapras, which means no future saving, which means it’s all for nothing.

Secondly, and more interestingly imo, it would have caused a pretty irresolvable paradox—Grovyle and [hero] disappear, which means no one had ever come to fix the time gears, which means the future never got saved, which means they did come fix the time gears, which means they didn’t, and so on. The presence of [partner], in my head, anchors them. It gives them a jumping off point to have someone who participated in the time gear shenanigans so no matter what, there was someone who wouldn’t disappear who saved the future. [Partner] might not know why in a world where [hero] and Grovyle never existed, but [partner]’s involvement is temporal proof that it happened, and also gives Dialga a reason to stabilize the paralyzed future from SE5.

Here’s the evidence to my claim.

Chapter 11 (I think?), Dusknoir takes [hero], [partner], and Grovyle to the future. We see for sure that some time has passed since they all left to begin with through Dusknoir’s conversations with Dialga and your own conversations with Celebi. This seems to indicate that there is a sort of link in the flow of time between these two points somehow. Here’s more evidence. When everyone gets back, three days have passed since we left (I believe. I may be wrong, but I’m pretty sure). If Celebi was being smart, she would have just sent everyone to the moment they left—or, even smarter, well before, to give more time for collecting gears. But she didn’t. This implies that either Celebi didn’t know what she was doing, or that there is a concrete link between the future and the past through the persons of [hero] and Grovyle. The way I understand this link is as such: once someone goes to the past, they link up their own native time with the time they are currently inhabiting. So, if time passes for them in the past, it passes for them in the future, too. Vice versa. Because of this, we have consequences like not being able to use the Passage of Time to go back earlier than we were.

I think the most important part of this theory, though, comes into play during SE5. If things functioned as they normally do in time travel stories, Grovyle and Dusknoir and Celebi and Dialga and everyone else would have already disappeared when they got back to the future. [Hero] disappears before that future could possibly have come about, so it would only make sense for everyone else to have already disappeared at the same time. But we still see quite a bit happen. In fact, I think we probably see a bit too much, even for this theory. Either way, Grovyle and Dusknoir have so much time before they start to disappear that they can climb Temporal Tower, travel across the world, climb up Vast Ice Mountain, and beat up Dialga themselves before they start to disappear. Ergo, the link—as [hero] and [partner] climb up Temporal Tower and fight Dialga themselves, the passage of time (lowercase) is linked between them and Grovyle. The two periods of time are treated more like alternate dimensions with concurrent events than separate points in a continual timeline. As such, it is only when the synced up point of disappearing approaches for [hero] that Grovyle and Dusknoir start to disappear.

The only holes in this theory are Dusknoir’s presence at the Rainbow Stoneship and the reappearance of the future crew. Dusknoir’s showing can be attributed fair easily to “he just waited until the right time.” As for the reappearance…I’m inclined to say they don’t reappear until [hero] does. Months go by in the moments between when we see them disappear and when they are reformed. But since literally nothing happens during those months, the future being literally destroyed and all, we (the player) don’t get to see it.

Anyway. Thanks for coming to my ted talk

[moe-broey]

Would you like some strangely elaborate specific ass headcanons? Of course you do!!!! Also I'm outsourcing a very specific dilemma. But you have to Learn My Methods first. Okay? Okay!!!!

PIERCINGS. AS STORYTELLING DEVICES. GO!!!!

Okay! So what the hell are we looking at and what exactly am I trying to determine, here? Well!!! There's a few different facets to this.

FIRST OF ALL. REALLY REALLY CUTE AND ALWAYS SO FUN TO ME

One, two, three!!! They're a set of three, and they're marked as such by how many sets of piercings they have in their ears. It's such a small detail that happened more by coincidence than intent, but it makes drawing all three of them together feel coherent and again, fun! I also really like the storytelling/contrast of the Askr siblings having golden jewerly, while Moe's is in silver (it does mix silver and gold more broadly -- but I'm talking just the face/ears here!). You get the sense (... in addition to Moe's more scruffy appearance in general), that one is from a more "common" background.

Okay, but what's all that text? STORYTELLING.... 2

Piercings, as a way to indicate connections to other characters, and to imply background information.

First example, it's noted that Bruno has had his in for a long time (... kind of regretting the specificness of "as a kid". That's supposed to have implications, but tbh it may be more fitting for Bruno as a whole to simply have said, "A Long Time"). He wears something modest, maybe a common stone, but still eye-catching. I like to think Alfonse became enamored with it (guys can also do this???), same way he was completely smitten by all of Zacharias. One extremely questionable piercing job courtesy of Zacharias himself and egged on by Sharena (who made a generous donation and/or sacrifice from her own jewelry box) later, it's a miracle he managed to heal them. Equally impressive is how long he managed to hide them as a teenager.

Meanwhile, you see Sharena's example is pretty straightforward! Assigned ear-stabbing at birth. It worked out well, though! Aside from that one time where her piercings mysteriously closed up and they had to be re-done, when she was little. Which could mean nothing. Alls well that ends well! In fact, she liked the look so much she decided to get another set done! Which may or may not come back later...

I will admit, the saddle plugs on Bruno were an impulse decision I made drawing this out (so not a super strong design headcanon, and maybe I could draw it better w more practice tbh, test run ect ect), BUT. MORE IMPORTANTLY. That idea, AND NEXT UP: STORYTELLING... 3.

On top of noting significant connections and providing background information -- here, you have gaining more and/or doing different Things with your piercings, as a way to indicate the passage of time or a change of taste. Woah, that's a lot of text! That's just my autism showing, I'll do you a favor -- with Moe specifically, the biggest takeaway here is:

One, two, three. There are other iderations of Moe of course, plenty of awkward in-between stages. But as I've developed it, I've found that there's like... three really plot relevant parts of its life. One easy to forget, two OH GOD OH FUCK, three that's the guy who lives here now. AWESOME!!!!

OKAY. OKAY. PEONY she has BEEN HERE THIS WHOLE TIME. What's up with that?

So we have background implications/information, we have connections to other characters, and NOW. WE HAVE. Paths that diverge. Sharena, 2. Peony, 1. Plus, a little bit of shape language with those tear drop earrings... on Sharena specifically...... ohghhghhf........

I've always been really indecisive with my Peony designs (for some reason it has been SUCH A STRUGGLE FOR ME), but I do like the simplicity of this one actually. The "Princess Peach core" note about Sharena is more about her color palette, but after writing that I went You know what. Fuck it *gives Peony Princess Peach earrings*. This does feel subject to change, but the idea they could be like water droplets is so cutes... I have really wanted to give Peony earrings with a blue gem though, BECAUSE...

The blue and silver are a nod to this reoccurring detail on Peony! So not only does it tie back to Sharena (IMPORTANT), it also (theoretically.) ties together nicely overall!!

Okay. So. Where does this leave me. Why did I draw all this out? All these little details that exist in my mind, why did I go out of my way to create this elaborate in-depth demonstration? Remember when I said I was gonna outsource some shit?

PROBLEM: I NEVER. EVER. EVEEEERRRRRR KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH LIF'S EARRINGS‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️ AND THE LACK OF DIRECTION IS BECOMING MORE AND MORE GLARING EVERY FUCKING TIME I DRAW HIM‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

And what prompted all of this. What REALLY made me Think About This. I did another "ehhh Fuck It" with Lif's piercings, where he's sharing a panel with Moe, and

Ooughgughfhghhh...... them having the same earring arrangement.

But then. Then. I got autism brained about it. I can see Bruno having fuck all time to stretch his ears while on some gayass journey (... the. Timelines. Time in between Events. Maybe he wouldn't have full big stretched ears in Book 1. HOWEVER). Inconvenient, maybe, but if he's dedicated to the grind. He can do it. And I mean, have you seen his muscles? Dude CARES about his appearance. Meanwhile Moe ABSOLUTELY had fuck all time to stretch its ears before arriving in Askr. Then I'm thinking about Alfonse. NEVERMIND how much time it takes to stretch your ears, I'm thinking about the Number Rules. I'm thinking about how he's One, the first guy of a set of Three. I'm thinking about the Number Rule, to indicate Time. Why WOULD he have Three? The Number Rule, as Paths Diverging. There's Two of him, not Three. ALSO ASKING MYSELF "Would Alfonse get more piercings???" LIKE NO. BECAUSE. THE. THE RULE OF THREE. THE ONE TWO THREE. WERE YOU EVEN LISTENING‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😫😫😫😫😫

Idk am I just insane. Am I a lost cause. Lif's ears are usually covered up by his long shaggy hair anyway. But really that does just make any time any piercings Would be visible, just. I am just so deeply conflicted torn between Goth Alt Men Hot and THE METHODS‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️ THE STORYTELLING THE METHODS MY DEEPLY INTRICATE RITUALS‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

[whathorselegs]

An unnecessarily long ramble about Shirase's role in Storm Bringer - Part 1

Storm Bringer's Themes and Shirase

At it's core, Storm Bringer is about the many ways someone can be dehumanized and also the many ways a person can exhibit humanity without necessarily being 'human'. Nearly every major character within this book showcases these themes from Chuuya to Adam, to Verlaine, to Dazai.

And yes, even Shirase, however I think the way these themes affect Shirase's character is overlooked a bit, because compared to everyone else, he's ordinary and often times being annoying. The dehumanization he experiences isn't some Big Bad, but that doesn't mean it's not there. The way he regains his humanity is with an internal struggle. It's not as exciting as everything else, so it's no wonder it doesn't get talked about as much.

However, I'm obsessed with it, so I'm going to talk about.

The Dehumanization of Shirase

'The young man would then rivet, wipe, and remove its burrs. Then another part would come his way. Rivet, wipe, file. Rivet, wipe, file. Rivet, wipe, file. Rivet, wipe, file. He would do that as many times as it took until he eventually thought, I've had enough of this. After finishing the next metal part, he was going to quit and go home. He had that same thought every single time he worked until the bell eventually rang, letting all the workers know that their shift was going to end in five minutes. Only during those five minutes did the young man feel some what human.'

This is how we are introduced to Shirase and for me it's one of the grimmest passages in the book. There are certainly events that are more horrifying, but this is grim in such a mundane way, and its because this is how a lot of people spend their lives. This is the type of dehumanization real people can easily relate to.

Working day after day, hour after hour as a cog in a machine, loosing everything you are to your job that you hate until the end of the day where you can regain your sense of self.

Asagiri will often not use a character's name at the start of chapter to create some mystery as to who they are, specifically he does this a lot for Dazai. However it's still interesting me that in this whole passage, it's not until the last paragraph that Shirase is named. By Chuuya. Until then, he's nobody, just a faceless worker, only becoming a person once he's relevant to the plot.

In this passage it's also noted that some of the other workers try to invite Shirase to eat together, but Shirase declines. They are all older than him, it doesn't mention any names and there's no indication that Shirase considers them his friends. Why would he? This is a place were he doesn't even feel like himself, how could he possibly form friendships?

The most interesting way, to me, that Shirase is dehumanized throughout Storm Bringer is the way several characters treat Shirase as insignificant or as someone to be used/disposed of, despite those characters being ones who we root for.

The Port Mafia treats him as a hostage, all his friends had been shipped away to different parts of Japan. He has no support network anymore, he's alone. He lives with the knowledge at any moment the Port Mafia could decide to kill him.

Murase, despite caring for Chuuya and 'wanting to show him the light' does not extend that same kindness to Shirase. He uses Shirase as a means to get Chuuya to come to the police station. Murase even bullies Shirase whilst arresting him.

'Nobody cares about small fries like you, so you've got nothing to worry about.'

It's an off-handed comment and probably to be funny and out of the context of the dehumanization theme it is. But everyone in this story is telling Shirase the exact same thing. He's worthless. Shirase isn't worth Murase's time, he isn't worth saving. Whilst Murase talks to Chuuya about living in the light, he has Shirase locked away in a dark cell left to rot. Because Shirase isn't important.

Murase sets it up so Shirase's freedom is dependant on Chuuya's choice. If Chuuya agrees to be an informant, Shirase will be let go. He doesn't give Shirase the chance to fight for his own freedom because he has nothing Murase wants.

It might be annoying the amount of times Shirase claims he's 'the king' but when everyone else treats him like nothing, it's not surprising to me that he's so desperate to be recognized.

Adam, is perhaps the worst offender of this. He does not like Shirase and whilst I'm not saying he has to, he is also our main narrator through out the book. He interacts with Shirase the most. He also thinks Shirase lacks intelligence and is an annoyance. Despite being programmed to save humans, he treats protecting Shirase as a chore, even though, Shirase is the exact type of person he was meant to protect. An ordinary one.

When Verlaine attacks Shirase in the cells, Adam gives up and accepts Shirase's fate despite saying several times how terrified he is.

'Shirase's voice trembled with fear.' 'Shirase's voice quavered like never before. It took everything he had to simply stand on his own two feet.' 'He was too astonished and afraid to even to even yell out.' 'The worst thing that could happen right now would be losing Master Chuuya or me and being unable to follow with our plan to ambush Verlaine. He had two more targets remaining. There was still hope.'

He's as good as sentencing Shirase to death here because his life isn't as important as Chuuya's or his own. Shirase is disposable. Adam says as much when trying to convince Shirase to come with them. It's made all the more heartbreaking when Shirase is looking to Adam for help but Adam has ready decided he can't do anything.

He says that there was no chance of success at saving Shirase but as soon as Chuuya is in danger, Adam is able to break free from the wall he's trapped in. The possible outcomes don't matter anymore, Chuuya is in danger and he has to try and save him. Something he wasn't willing to do for Shirase.

After Shirase falls unconscious from being poisoned Adam leaves him locked in a storeroom and says he should be safe there. Despite the alarm system broadcasting that everything within the building is going to burned and everyone needs to evacuate. Implying anyone left behind will also burn. When Shirase wakes up alone, thinking he's been abandoned, he easily gets out of the storeroom, meaning anyone could have just as easily got in and killed him.

'The poison was probably meant for Master Chuuya while Shirase was merely collateral damage.'

This what Adam says about Shirase being poisoned and I can't tell if it's supposed to Adam saying how the military sees Shirase or how Adam feels about him. Because it's exactly how he treats him.

The dehumanizing way Adam treats Shirase affects how the reader views him too. Readers are already inclined to dislike Shirase after the events in Fifteen, now in Storm Bringer we spend most of our time with a narrator that also doesn't like Shirase. So when Adam exhibits a lack of care towards Shirase, calls him dumb, annoying and dismisses him, the reader is easily led into doing the same.

And it's sad because Shirase is genuinely scared and struggling throughout the story. But we almost only ever see this during the few parts that are narrated from Shirase's perspective.

Which I will talk more about in Part 2 when I discuss Shirase's overall arc and the ways in which he regains his 'humanity'.

If you read all of this, then thank you :D I hope you enjoyed

Disclaimer: This is not hate on Adam's character, I love him, however this post is about Shirase not him.

[dknuth]

Ephesus

Today was the visit to the leading ancient site of the cruise, Ephesus.

Ephesus was a Greek and Roman city founded in the 10th century B.C. on an earlier Arzawan settlement site. It was one of the region's principal cities based on its port, location on a river providing access to the interior, and sanctuary to Artemis.

We first stopped at the local museum, which contained sculptures and artifacts from the site. Some of these, like the Minoan pottery, attest to the early occupation.

Ephesus also developed coins early, using the local electrum ore. The first coins had images of a bee.

Most of the statuary was Roman. Only a few Greek statues remain for two reasons: their age and the fact that most Greek statues were bronze, which was melted down and reused, both for decorative items and weapons.

However, the most significant statues were of Artemis. Greek Artemis was the equivalent of Roman Diana, the goddess of the hunt, the wilderness, wild animals, nature, vegetation, childbirth, child care, and chastity. The local version was equated to the earlier Great Mother Goddess and portrayed quite differently than the Roman version. A chart on the wall showed the development of the Great Mother Goddess images over time.

In Ephesus, she was portrayed in a a very dramatic manner.

There is a lot to unpack here. Starting at the top, she wears a crown with the city on top. She has wild animals on either side of her head.

She has a lion on each arm; the most noticeable thing is all those protuberances. There has been much debate over what they represent. Breasts reflecting the abundance of the Great Mother? Stories say she was often hung with bull's testicles, and there is undoubtedly a resemblance there. Other sources indicate her statues could be hung with gift bags. We don't know, but it is undoubtedly a memorable image.

Her skirt is covered with the wild animals she was also a protector of.

There was also a slightly smaller statue. Here, you can see the two hunting dogs accompanying her as the goddess of the hunt.

In antiquity, the Temple of Artemis was one of the Wonders of the Ancient World. The last and greatest version was built starting in 356 B.C. It stood for 600 years until it was destroyed by the Goths in 268 AD. With the coming of Christianity it was finally abandoned.

The stones were, of course, recycled into other buildings. Today almost nothing remains.

The one lone, sad column was haphazardly re-erected in modern times from odd bits left around the site.

There was a model in the local museum.

Antipiter of Sidon described the temple thus in his Seven Wonders:

"I have set eyes on the wall of lofty Babylon on which is a road for chariots, and the statue of Zeus by the Alpheus, and the hanging gardens, and the colossus of the Sun, and the huge labor of the high pyramids, and the vast tomb of Mausolus; but when I saw the house of Artemis that mounted to the clouds, those other marvels lost their brilliancy, and I said, "Lo, apart from Olympus, the Sun never looked on aught so grand".

Alas, all we saw was a barren field and a poor column.

Then, it was on to the city itself. The most impressive part of the city was its marble-paved streets.

A gate on the street, consisting of two statues of Hercules, narrows the passage, apparently to stop the use of carriages.

What at first looks like a theater is a bouleuterion, or city council chamber.

It is so much larger than any others we've seen we al thought it was a small theater.

The most famous structure in Ephesus is the library.

It's a beautiful and impressive building front, but it is all restored. Before the restoration, only the column bases and lower parts of some columns were standing. The restorations Türkiye does are controversial. Some archeologists believe that everything should be left as found. Some people want to rebuild. I think that some restoration is beneficial for people to understand the ancient sites. Of course, they need to be done accurately and respectfully. Also, not all sites or structures should receive this treatment. It's costly and does some damage to the materials. But I certainly agree with the restoration of the Library in Ephesus.

Throughout this entire area, archeologists from various European countries did excavations. They also took may of the best artifacts and buildings back home. So museums in London, Berlin, and Paris have the absolute best of these ancient cities.

Completing our visit was the road down to the agora, theater and harbor.

One area I had not heard about was the "Terrace Houses." These are a series of huge Roman houses on the hill above the main street. They are decorated with marble paneling, frescoes on the walls, and mosaics and marble on the floors. Even the second floors of the houses had frescoes and mosaics. The one even had private bach and toilet.

Cleary Ephesus was an influential and wealthy city with some very wealthy residents.

[blackjackkent]

OK, looking at the to-do list I formulated last time, the next step of Rakha's adventure is going to be rescuing Shadowheart's parents. Shoutout to the enlarged party mod for allowing me to just yoink her into the party for the purpose without kicking anyone else out.

We're back in Rivington because Shadowheart indicated a while back that she thought the Sharrans would most likely be keeping a lookout near the chokepoint into the city. And sure enough, as they start to wander down through the refugee camp again, an unfamiliar voice shouts out to them this time.

It's actually quite odd, being back in Rivington again. Rakha remembers their passage through the refugee camp before, and the feeling of the beast urge in her head growling hungrily at the crowds of innocent, frightened people. But now... there's nothing, and she has been examining the herd of people with a mild, slightly curious expression, fascinated by the emptiness of her own mind.

She examines the man warily as he calls Shadowheart's name.

"I just lost a wager thanks to you," he says, squinting at Shadowheart with a strange sort of affable dislike.

Shadowheart has gone very still, and paler than usual. "Who are you?" she asks.

"Someone who bet that you'd never be foolish enough to actually show your face in this city again." He grins sardonically. "But here you are, and the gold in my purse is soon to take flight."

Rakha squints thoughtfully. This must be one of Shadowheart's former Sharran accomplices - one of those responsible for sending her on her mission, for wiping her memories. One of those Shadowheart has now turned on. He is saying he bet Shadowheart would not be brave enough to face her former comrades.

Rakha has, frankly, little patience for or interest in the cult of Shar at this point. She was, for a time, somewhat interested in Shadowheart's description of it, for she saw a certain appeal in a faith based on loss, silence, darkness when she was full of all three. Now... all she sees is a religion like all the others she's encountered - a goddess delivering petty cruelties to those that express loyalty to her.

"Our hearts bleed for you," she says curtly. "Get to the point."

The man's eyes narrow at Shadowheart, and a sharper edge comes into his voice. "There have been whispers about you, sister," he hisses. "About your faith, your loyalty." His eyes flick to Rakha disdainfully. "Your company."

He folds his arms, his lip curling. "I can't help but feel the strangest twinge of disgust when I look upon you. Is it true? Has our Lady forsaken you?"

Shadowheart doesn't answer immediately, and Rakha gives her a look sidelong. It comes to her abruptly that what Shadowheart went through - is still going through - is the same as what Rakha herself went through in the Temple of Bhaal. A moment of disobedience, a moment of agonizing torture... and then a sudden baffling life afterwards, stripped of familiar landmarks.

The only difference, of course, is that Rakha has been truly freed, while Shadowheart still bears the mark on her hand for Shar to deliver more punishment when she pleases. But she is free, nevertheless, and from her position now on the far side of Bhaal's wrath, Rakha has a greater respect for the strength it took Shadowheart to look away.

"She has turned her back on your wretched goddess," she says sourly, shaking her head.

Shadowheart blinks, then snorts softly. "I suppose that's the subtle approach dispensed with."

("Subtle? Rakha?" Wyll murmurs in an undertone behind them, eliciting a muffled bark of a laugh from Jaheira.)

The Sharran rolls his eyes. "Oh, don't be so harsh. It's plain to see that you've turned heretic," he says caustically. "Even if your friend had kept her mouth shut."

Shadowheart grimaces. "I know the truth," she says, a little too sharply to pretend the blow hasn't struck home. "I know my parents still live. Tell me where they are, and I have no quarrel with you."

"I'm afraid the quarrel is unavoidable, thanks to you," the man returns coolly. "Now I must report your reappearance. If you are intent on bringing matters to a head, then seek out the House of Grief in the Lower City." He smirks. "Though if I was you, I'd be very tempted to just forget it all and disappear. You have some form in doing so, after all."

------

Rakha waits until the man has walked away before turning to face Shadowheart directly. She watches a series of unconnected, complicated emotions work their way across Shadowheart's face one by one.

Then the cleric sighs. "The House of Grief. I... remember the name, I think."

Rakha nods slowly. "We'll find it, then," she says. A slight pause. "Do you know what we'll find?"

"Nothing we'll like, I'd wager," Shadowheart says wearily. "But I have to. I have to. My parents are there. My family..." She trails off, looks at Rakha. "I don't suppose you'd understand," she says; there's a slight pointed edge to the words but not much of one. Really it's just a statement of fact. "You've only got the one, and he's not been much of a father."

Rakha says nothing for a moment. It's true - she has no parents, none that she remembers anyway, though perhaps she was born to some mortal set even before the family she remembers murdering in the Lower City. But, nevertheless...

Her eyes flick to Lae'zel, then back to Shadowheart. "I understand about rescuing family," she says quietly.

Shadowheart considers this. Then she smiles faintly, and nods. "Well, then. Let's not waste any more time."

[reel-fear]

Henry And Norman's Canonical [and unexplored] Friendship and why it needs more focus in canon and fanon

An essay by me~

So I've talked a lot either in tags or in other posts about Henry and Norman's implied friendship in the canon of Bendy, however implied isn't really the right word, unexplored is more accurate because despite the fact we've never seen them interact, Henry and Norman having been friends is entirely canon with a lot of proof for it!

Don't believe me? Well let me show you why I am obsessed with this duo~

So first we're starting with the games since they are the ones most barren for this implication. We only really have one line in BATIM to go off of in terms of this, but they are interesting and important ones. Specifically we have one line from alice and an achievement to look at. [EDIT: I forgot a note written by Henry! I have added it now below]

Just from Alice's line we know she was under the impression Henry and Norman were friends, which not only shows they were in fact friends but close enough that others knew they were friends. Combined with the theory that Alice created the projectionist [one that is slightly backed up by BATDR confirming she was the one who mutilated the butcher gang] her teasing tone here could be rubbing in the fact such a horrible fate fell on someone Henry was close to...

It's an idea I think fits really well with Joey having created the cycle specifically to torment Henry too, why not make his friend one of the most mindless and horrible monsters down there just to make him feel worse. So close yet so far from one of the friendliest friends he knew.

The other thing I want to draw attention to is the Norman's Fate achievement, this is the Only time the projectionist is referred to as Norman and it comes from Henry's POV. It's a bit of stretch but I think it could be Henry refusing to dehumanize Norman by calling him the projectionist instead calling him by his name. A detail I think is very cute and could show Henry's sympathy towards his friend's suffering... and fate.

EDIT:

However we have another great indicator on how Henry feels towards the projectionist in particular and that's this note left by him on level 14.

Level 14 is the Projectionist's level, one full of the corpses of his victims and where he hunts Henry relentlessly, but Henry still questions The Projectionist being nothing more than an enemy. Their friendship seems to have meant a lot to him, and it seems to be on his mind, even after seeing what Norman has been twisted into. This could also be because the Projectionist literally fights the ink demon too. Who is far more antagonistic to Henry. Either way, I find it very sad but also a nice way of subtly touching on what Henry and Norman's friendship means for how Henry thinks of the Projectionist.

This is also a bit of a stretch but when Norman/The Projectionist peeks into the miracle station Henry is hiding in, in chapter 4, he doesn't seem super threatening, just curious and it even somewhat emulates Sammy's motions when commenting on Henry's familar face. Was there a moment of clarity for Norman there? Seeing his old friend hiding in there? Maybe, it's a little too vague to really dwelve on here but it is something to think about...

But time for us to get into the meat of their relationship, with the books, the media that elaborates far more on Henry and Norman's characters and has the lines from Norman confirming their friendship.

I absolutely LOVE these passages they show off so much more about Norman's character and expand on the idea he and Henry were friends in such a nice way. Norman talks about Henry in a way so unusually positive for him Dot feels the need to point out how much of a compliment it is for him to say he's a decent fellow with a lot of talent. He also speaks with a lot of sympathy towards Henry's blight and the abuse Joey made him endure, doing this all with his feet on the table holding up a projector, a smile on his face and a mug in his hand. He speaks somewhat vaguely and with mystery not exactly with Sammy's theatrics but with his own ominious air.

He also recognizes Henry leaving wasn't personal and that Joey likely held a grudge over it, plus when Dot comments on how odd it is for Norman to speak of someone like this, he doesn't refute it, just agrees with a laugh.

These passages are one of the reasons I think the books are some of the best media to come out of the series and I hope soon others realize what untapped potentional the books hide.

But...

Sadly despite all these interesting implications there's not a lot of canon or fandom content showing Norman and Henry's relationship and even less that attempts to develop and explore it. But for me it's one of the most interesting relationship's we have in BATIM [a series that is rather lacking in implied friendships or relationships between its characters]

Hell Henry's wiki page even mentions their friendship but Norman's page does not, which is strange since he has the most to speak on their friendship in the books. At least it's strange to me

So why is this relationship so fascinating to me? Just because of the dynamic it presents to us and its potentional for fun interactions!

Norman is portrayed constantly as a strange mysterious and almost intimidating figure, he sees everything, he goes to investigate strange noises under his booth with nothing but a light to find out whats making a horrid noise at night, and when Buddy [a 17 year old delivery boy] shows up at the studio and asks where Joey is Norman tells him he's DEAD. Which Buddy can only pick up on as a joke when someone else comes in to tell him Norman's sense of humor is strange, all while Norman bursts into chuckles. He's also pretty easy going esp in comparision to Sammy's dramatic nature.

Henry however is such an every man, a soft spoken and hard working animator who just wanted to have a better relationship with his work and wife. He's always so calm and just a usual guy. How did he come to form a friendship with such a strange and bizzare guy? Did he enjoy Norman's strange sense of humor? What were their interactions like?

There's so many interesting things to do with such a dynamic and that's not even getting into the tragedy of the Projectionist and Norman's fate. I want to see Henry heartbroken by his close friend's fate and death, I want to see more stuff exploring interactions between the Projectionist and the artist.

Whether it's canon or fanon that does it, I want to see more content on Henry and Norman's relationship. Romantic or not, I just want to see more people talk about it! Because it's one of the most interesting relationships in a series that tends to lack a lot of character relationship drama, pushing for more content of these two might be the bridge towards getting more content from canon that generally shows us how these characters all feel about each other.

Something I don't think is an impossible idea too since Meatly straight up asked us what characters we wanted to see interact, showing interest in these two could be a big W for us I'm just sayin [yes that is me down there]

I know I am very biased as a big Norman and Normry/Moving Pictures/Heman fan but I hope this post could show just a few more people the potential of this duo and we get more content of them in the future. Esp since fans have done a lot more with pairings in this franchise with far less content or implications of friendship.

Fingers crossed for a Norman novel where we can see them interact!!

And more content of these two in general <3

[bumblingbabooshka]

Read a fic about Tuvok having a history of self harm. It's a very short fic but it really interested me! So I wanted to doodle some stuff based on it - the first page is my interpretation of a certain summarized scene:

The concept of Tuvok's own self harm effecting T'Pel so viscerally was what got my attention most of all (as you can see) - I can imagine how much guilt that must have put on him and it's another, alien, dimension to struggling with mental health and one that would be interesting in Tuvok's position where he's now for the first time completely disconnected from his family and only has to contend with himself and his own mind. Once again, Vulcan identity is so fascinating!!! I love seeing what people do with it!

Page One: T'Pel bandages Tuvok's wrists in silence. She looks up at the man himself who's also watching the process. "It is done," she says. He does not seem to have heard her. "Tuvok," she prompts. He looks up. Speaking telepathically, he says "Yes. Your 'turn'." with some bitterness. He begins to bandage her wrists as she watches him. "There is no need for guilt," she says. Tuvok states "This is...familiar." We see a younger Tuvok; He is a teenager who appears disheveled and disturbed by the news he is receiving. An unseen individual, perhaps a guardian, says to him: "T'Pel is in the hospital." We see two knives, showing the passage of time. One is a common kitchen knife while the other is a ritual blade - they are both bloody. The guardian's words continue: "Tuvok. I implore you, stop." We see several women without defining facial features. They are both specific and representative - T'Pel and Janeway are clear and represent 'wife & friends' while the other Vulcan figure is perhaps 'family' (she could be Tuvok's mother, daughter, etc). "If not for her sake..." the unseen voice continues. "Then for your own." At that we see Tuvok appearing disturbed once again, however time has advanced. He is now aboard Voyager and lines emanating from him indicate that his bond to those previous figures has just been broken. For who's 'sake' does he have to preserve himself now? We see Tuvok alone in a severely darkened room - there appears to be a cushion in front of him. Is it for meditation or for a blade to sit upon? He appears to be bleeding. The word 'Stop' is in bold, hanging over him. It is unclear whether this is something he is thinking or the true end of his guardian's plea. Page Two has several unconnected Images. One: Tuvok is an incredibly disheveled looking teenager wearing an outfit indicating he is currently residing in the temple he was banished to at that time. He is looking down at his scarred wrist with an impassive yet very tired expression. He looks up, thinking "I feel...calm." An arrow pointing to him informs us that he has just unlocked a bad coping mechanism. Ostensibly as a 'quick fix' to the distress he was feeling at that time. Two: Tuvok is the same age but time has advanced a bit, indicated by his change in clothes. He is bandaging his wrists, looking as disheveled as ever. His 'quick fix' doesn't seem to have improved his health. He repeats mentally that this is the 'last time' - it can be assumed that he is referring to self harming. Three: Tuvok is an ensign under captain Sulu. This is his first stint in Starfleet. He is asked a question by a doctor, indicated by a question mark. "They're very old scars, doctor." Tuvok replies dismissively. Four: Tuvok is the same age but time has advanced a bit. He is lying on his bed in uniform, staring out at nothing in particular. The room is darkened and drenched in shadow. There is the indication of blood. An arrow looming over him states that he has relapsed. Five: A young Kathryn Janeway offers Tuvok a cup of what might be tea. "I'm here for you," she says, with a very concerned expression. Tuvok does not look at her. He sits with his steepled hands in his lap, staring down. He remains expressionless. There is a doodle of a ship identified as the USS Wyoming to orient us in time. Six: Tuvok and T'Pel hold hands and stare into what would be one another's eyes. Their facial features have been wiped clean. Tuvok's face is almost fully encased in an amorphous darkness which stretches across the space between them and leaks out of a hole in the middle of T'Pel's face which is being 'filled' by said darkness. The text above reads "All your rot bleeds into her." The darkness no longer has humanoid shape - there is a small white figure in its midst. It is unclear whether the darkness is emanating from the figure or threatening to swallow them. The text above reads "There isn't a scar on her that wasn't put there by you."