#this is a perfect plan i see no flaws (dying)

[richkidcityfriends]

oooh my sleep schedule is so fucked rn and i start school again on monday oh no

[imissthembutitwasntadisaster]

The thing about the new hunger games book is that it could be a Haymitch centric story or it could be otherwise and I trust Collins either way, but looking at her themes (propaganda and control) I think there's a lot of room for a story that is definitely about the Capitol, the creation of these specific games, the control and propaganda and power. These are special games, twice as many children stolen as usual, and they should be won by one of the low number districts as usual, powerful, semi-Capitol districts. Everything is poised and planned for.

Except one tribute keeps poking through. He refuses to kill, that's alright, a lot of them don't have the guts. He travels away from the centre, and by all rights should be killed by the arena but he's clever, he works out the poison, the vicious animals, he escapes it all.

Well, never mind, there's 48 tributes and far more interesting things going on than some twelve kid. Until there's 40 tributes, then 30, than 20. President Snow holds watch parties and celebrations, the Capitol bets on winners and losers, tossing around money like it's worthless.

The twelve boy who should be dead has an alliance with a twelve girl until she leaves, not wanting to kill him. She still screams for him when she's killed. He still runs back to hold her hand as she dies.

A sweet gesture. Makes people invested. Still, might not be ideal to show, don't want to humanize them that much, so it's cut. Easy. The games are all under control and only show what Snow wants them to show. The people are happy or content or afraid, but they're all watching exactly what they should be watching.

Until the twelve boy wins. He wins by using the arena, a trick, a twist to it. And the games are trapped in their own making, you see, because the Capitol can't get rid of him. Everyone knows he's the victor because everyone saw. Everything about Haymitch was wrong, everything about his victory was a kick in the teeth to the Capitol. He was a District Twelve victor who won by refusing to play the game properly on a year that was meant to show the Capitol's power. He was out of their control and it hurt them, we know it hurt them, they killed every single person he loved because of it. Haymitch isn't the center of the story, he's the flaw in the perfect code. He takes the control of the Capitol and he bruises it. 24 years later it's broken by another twelve child who held the hand of her friend while she as dying.

[brain-r0tten]

okay so I was sick and dying for the past few days but now that I'm feeling better drawing doesn't feel like a chore anymore woohoo

I have 2 more arts almost ready (art trade and meet the artist) as well so stay tuned for that!

as for the comic- (ramble about my SPTO sona below)

I tried to think more about Nate and at first I wanted em to be Scott's classmate cuz I love their gang as well buuuut I think it'd be weird to fall for someone who punched your friend to death lmao (maybe gonna do like an alternate timeline where they're in a relationship with Scollace and not PatelGraves and go along with my original idea)

So in this AU Nate is Roxie's classmate! I love her as well. They have a queerplatonic relationship and are really close, so Roxie told him about the league in passing conversation, Nate was curious and had nothing to do so he convinced her to visit Rockit when Matthew Patel was gonna fight Scott. Roxie briefly told him about Mattie and Nate got interested bc- theater kid? pirate?? emo???

He doesn't have many friends aside Roxie and he wanted to come out of his shell so this was a perfect occasion to do so. Surface level he's pretty confident and (maybe??) charming but his anxiety still lingers, especially when he's around people he puts on the pedestal (don't do that chat it's a major character flaw) and a pirate emo theater kid sounds like the perfect candidate for that.

The pages start right after he defeated Scott (the scene where he's yelling "WHAT'S GOING ON??") but I also planned to do one page before that where you'd see Nate and Roxie's conversation. Buuuut those 2 already took enough time so imagine it's an awesome cool page by just looking at the dialogue aight??

They'd sit somewhere in the corner to see the whole thing, after it was over and everyone went their way, Roxie would push Nate towards Mattie where the finished page starts

(Nate is red, Roxie is violet)

Also Nate/Matthew ain't really infatuated with the other one yet, they're just very excited for someone to talk to (they're both losers at this point)

[senlinyu]

Since ao3 is down, here is a thing that was supposed to be a twitter drabble but it got too long so I forgot about it for eight months.

Dying Wish

//open ended, pining Draco, theomione, Dramione (vaguely), Tragic Theo.

Almost everyone said that Theodore Nott marrying Hermione Granger was unexpected but not surprising. Theo had always been academically insufferable, and Granger was infamously so. The relationship could have almost been called inevitable.

Everyone had stories about the absurdly saccharine workplace romance that unfolded. Coworkers by coincidence, they both showed up for a cancelled meeting, the waiting led to a shared project, and from there a whirlwind relationship.

They were engaged within a year.

A beautiful couple, a perfect match. Despite Theo possessing the near fatal flaw of having been in Slytherin, he compensated for any suspicion held by Granger’s friends by having a tragic life story practically from the moment of conception. A mother who’d died horribly young, and a monster of a father who’d always considered his son a bitter disappointment.

Theo had never taken the Dark Mark, he’d played no part in the war. He was self-deprecating and funny, and knew how to make people like him because he cared about people liking him. The kind of man who was perfectly happy to become ‘Hermione Granger’s husband,’ unlike the previous boyfriends who always wanted her bright but not ‘too bright’.

Draco was happy for Theo. In a very detached and uninvolved way. He wasn’t such a cunt that he would resent his best friend for finding love, even if it was with a person he habitually went out of his way to avoid.

Granger was, after all, a menace with a vicious protective streak, and a known right hook. Draco, in fact, knew it personally. No one was ever going to hurt Theo again, she would make sure of it.

Theo, for his part, had spent his entire life looking for someone who’d let him love them completely. Someone to give his heart and soul to. His adoration for Granger was nauseating, an ocean of unplumbed depths.

The stars seemed to align for them, every piece falling into place to create a perfect match: Two positively revolting swots joined in matrimonial bliss, happy as could be.

No one asked Draco if he wanted to be in excruciating proximity to the entire affair, and yet he somehow was. He helped Theo plan his proposal, and then had to listen to Theo practise his speech over and over without wincing, and then illuminate over five hundred fairy lights , cue a quartet, and then fling a garden’s worth of rose petals into the air, before apparating silently away.

He was the best man. He planned Theo’s stag night. Slapped him across the face when he started hyperventilating, kept the rings from getting lost, and signed as witness to the union.

When it was done and they were off on their honeymoon, he left the reception, and went to Greece for six months in order to detox from the entire revolting affair.

When he finally forced himself to go back, he coddled himself by ignoring most of their invitations, and only accepted the ones where he could arrive late and leave early and barely speak to the hosts.

Eventually Theo stopped bothering him.

After all, it was bad enough to hear how revoltingly happy they were together without seeing them.

Malfoys were emotionally repressed on principle. His father used to say that falling in love was something only poor people did.

If Draco had to witness Granger making cow eyes at Theo, he would suffer indigestion, and his mother had always said he was constitutionally delicate.

He didn’t particularly like company anyway, and Theo’s friends were mostly Granger’s friends, which was not a circle Draco ever felt comfortable in.

His uninvolvement was going swimmingly until he received a short, informal note in shaky writing.

‘I need to see you. Please come. Theo.’

Draco had always been better at refusing formal invitations than personal ones. What the fuck would Theo suddenly want? After all these years?

He tried to ignore it, but the vagueness ate at him, niggling at his curiosity until he gritted his teeth and apparated to Nott manor.

Instead of an elf, or a butler at least answering the door it was Granger herself who opened it.

“Malfoy, you’ve finally come. Theo will be so relieved.”

He swallowed hard.

It had been a few years since he’d seen her in person. Wasn’t she supposed to be blissfully married? Weren’t happy people supposed to glow or something?

She’d been glowing at the wedding. Draco remembered all clearly the way her face had lit up when all the lights illuminated and music started, and Theo, despite Draco’s repeated warnings, was on his knees reciting a poem he’d written for her.

Draco had nearly died from second hand embarrassment.

The memory of how happy she’d looked while Theo compared her to the moon in iambic pentameter before hundreds of people, had been seared irrevocably into his skull. It would probably still haunt when he was a ghost.

She was not glowing at all now. She looked sad, and tired.

“Granger,” he said, even though he was excruciatingly aware that she was married.

He expected her to correct him out of habit, and then he’d retort that she would always be Granger to him, and then they would exchange empty banter and it would pass as conversation, but instead she just said, “Theo’s upstairs,” and led the way.

Draco expected to be led to a study, or a horrible mad scientist type lab designed for two, but instead it was a dark bedroom.

Draco baulked at the doorway, and Granger went in. He could hear the hushed murmur of voices and then she came back.

“He’s awake and having a good day, call if you need anything.” Then she left him there.

Draco watched her vanish back down the stairs before setting his jaw and entering the room. Theo was pale as a sheet, propped up with pillows, his face lit up at the sight of Draco.

“You did come, you old bastard.”

“Yes,” Draco said awkwardly. “Is Granger finally poisoning you for your family fortune?”

He’d prefer to avoid greetings or comments about how long it had been, or asking what was wrong. It was clear that something was incredibly wrong. Theo was thin and greyish, everything about him faded, not at all the picture of health Draco had assumed he would be.

That he was supposed to be.

Theo gave a wan smile. “I wouldn’t blame her, but no. My mother, you might not remember, it was a maladiction that killed her. Apparently I inherited it. Another thing my father didn’t manage to beat out of me.”

Draco’s chest clenched. “Theo, I’m—”

Theo shook his head. “It’s fine. I’ve—worked through it. Mostly. There are stages to grief apparently. That’s what the books say. I’ve moved through denial, anger, bargaining and depression. It’s not entirely a linear process but I’m mostly at the acceptance point now. Figured we should say goodbye.”

Draco just stared at him. “You can’t be serious. You invited me here for goodbyes? Fuck off. You can’t just give up like that. You’re married. You have a wife, you can’t die and leave—“

“If there was a fucking cure, Hermione would have found it,” Theo cut him off, his usually soft voice hardening in a defensive way that startled Draco. “We’ve looked. We’ve tried everything. You’d know that, if you’d ever come around. She’s been trying for years. Admitting she couldn’t—she tried so hard.”

Draco felt like he’d been struck. “I—I’m sorry. Of course you did. I’ve been away. Busy. I have responsibilities.”

Theo rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “It’s alright, I know now why you didn’t.”

Theo sat up slowly. His body seemed shrunken, like a breath of wind could carry him away. “That’s why I needed to see you. I wanted to apologise. I’m sorry for not realising it sooner. I should have. Looking back—it’s so obvious.”

Draco forced a laugh. He had no idea what Theo was talking about but he was really not enjoying the conversation.

“Realising what? What’s obvious?”

“That you’re in love with Hermione.”

Draco’s entire body went stiff, something inside him crumbled and died as his heart stopped completely. His voice failed him the first several times he tried to speak. He looked away, clearing his throat repeatedly.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. You sound mad.” He fidgeted with the potions on Theo’s bedside table, peering at them. “What kind of potions does Granger have you on?”

Theo slumped back, his eyes fluttering closed, his eyelids looked almost bruised with exhaustion. “I think back a lot. Mostly the years since the war, once my father was gone and things were getting better. I was remembering how much time we used to spend together. You were doing community service for probation, that elves thing Hermione founded. And I was going from one bad relationship to the next like some sad puppy.” He opened his eyes. “I was remembering how whenever I told you about anyone I dated, you always used to sneer and said they weren’t good enough for me, and gave the worst relationship advice ever. You Sabotaged me.”

“You had terrible taste,” Draco retorted, still sorting through the potions and still not liking at all the direction the conversation was going in. “It was a mercy on my part.”

“When I told you about Hermione, that I ran into her, and I asked you what you thought, do you remember what you said?”

“I can’t say I do,” Draco lied.

“You said I’d never be good enough for her. Then the next week, you came around again, and I remember you looked terrible and I assumed you’d had another fight with your parents, and you told me if I was serious, I should get a job at the Ministry, mentioned the rumour she’d had a time-turner at school. She was the only person you gave useful relationship advice about. Looking back, I don’t think it would have happened without you. Any of it.”

“Theo—“ Draco shifted awkwardly, having run out of potions to look at, “—it was just a joke, You can’t assume things like that. Granger? Really? Of anyone I could have feelings for. Your wife?” He exhaled raggedly. “Have you forgotten our history? Unlike you, I was a Death Eater. I was in the war. Even before then, I was awful, and they brought her to the manor and I—“

He’s rambling, he knew he was rambling. He needed to fucking shut up.

“I would never have been able to—“ His voice failed and there was a stone lodged in the bottom of his throat and he just stood there trying to keep from smashing everything within reach.

He needed a drink.

He threw a hand up, suddenly angry and turned on Theo, glaring. “It was just a fucking joke. I don’t even remember it.”

Theo simply nodded. “You were right though. I wasn’t good enough for her.”

Draco scoffed at that, turning away, inspecting the view. “I’m sure you did just fine. I always heard that you two were revoltingly happy. People said you were like some storybook couple. You two were good for each other—that’s really all that—“

He was stammering again.

He cut himself off. “You were happy together. Everyone said you made her happy. And I don’t do happiness, it gives me a rash.”

“Shut up,” Theo’s voice sharpened. “Fuck. I forgot how much you talk when you’re lying.”

He gave a heavy sigh. “You wanted us together, didn’t you? You engineered it.”

Draco gave a long suffering sigh. “Theo, you’re a moron. Just because you claim to be dying doesn’t mean I’m going to put up with a conspiracy theory that I’m in love with your wife.”

“Fuck off. You were my only friend, and you were the only reason I didn’t accidentally sabotage the relationship. All the times I would have rushed things, you stopped me. You were the reason why I managed to pull off all my harebrain romantic schemes. You made it work. And somehow I ended up married with the friends and family I always wanted, that you knew I wanted, and where the fuck did you go? Where have you been since then? Not here, that's for sure.”

Draco glanced out the window. “You wanted a new start, Theo. It was all you talked about once your father was in Azkaban. I was the past. Once you were married, you didn’t need me anymore. I was a hindrance.”

“You manipulated me,” Theo said, looking unreasonably infuriated for someone who’d gotten to marry the love of his life. “You self-loathing fuck. You thought you had it all worked out, had everything puppet-mastered. You nudged me right into her path to love her for you. Pushed us together so you would be alone the way you’ve convinced yourself you deserve to be.” He sounded winded. “Fuck. I’d punch you if I had the strength. And the thing I’m the most pissed off about, is that I was so enamoured, I didn’t notice. I thought it all worked perfectly that time because it was meant to.”

If Theo was expecting a confession he was going to be terribly disappointed.

“Maybe it did. I don’t know what you expect me to say about any of this. Even if any of that were true, what does it matter?”

“It matters,” Theo said.

Draco rolled his eyes.

“It matters because you have to take care of her when I’m gone.”

Draco’s heart stalled for a second time, but he recovered faster. “I’m sure you can get everything arranged in advance so she’ll be fine.”

“That’s what I’m doing right now. I can’t ask her friends to do this. They love her, but they don’t understand how to care for her. She takes care of everyone, but she doesn’t remember to take care of herself. She needs someone to be selfish for her, who will do whatever it takes to put her first. I can’t be your proxy anymore, it has to be you now.”

Draco’s neatly manicured nails were biting into his palm, he didn’t even know when his fists had clenched. “Theo…”

“I have spent so much time worrying about her, feeling like I can’t go because who’d be here to make sure she was alright. I’ve considered everyone, and when I got to you, I brushed you off at first, because you used to talk about how you couldn’t stand her. But eventually I wondered, why did you do so much to bring us together? If you really hated her so much. You always knew what she’d like. You figured things out about her that it took me ages to piece together. And you’re actually a rather shit liar, now that I’ve been thinking about it, if you’d really hated her, you would have been a lot nastier than you were.”

“I still don’t see the point in this conversation,” Draco said in a bored tone. “Granger can take care of herself. Especially with your fortune.”

Theo exhaled, like he was too tired now to fight anymore. “You are missing the point on purpose and we both know it.”

Draco did not know any such thing, still it was difficult to keep looking at Theo and he turned away.

“You did a good job at it. I’ll admit, you are the manipulative person I have ever known, if I weren’t dying, I probably would have never known. But now it’s my turn to be manipulative.”

“Well a good rule of thumb is not to tell the person you’re trying to manipulate that you’re doing it,” Draco said in a dry voice, turning to face him.

Theo was holding up his wand and had a wry smile on his face. “Fair enough. But I do have one final piece of leverage.”

Comprehension slowly dawned on him. “Theo, don’t you—“

“Draco Malfoy, it is my dying wish that you care for my wife when I am gone. Support her in her grief, and help her find joy in her future. Be there for her once I can’t be. Help her find herself again. Do you accept?”

Death Wishes were magic out of old grimoires. The kind that only insufferable people like Theo Nott would know how to perform.

Usually they were curses pronounced as the person died, but a rare iteration was rather like an Unbreakable Vow, if Draco refused, Theo would not pass on after death but instead linger as a ghost, attempting to fulfil the wish himself. If Draco accepted and then broke his word, Theo would come back from the afterlife and haunt him.

Bullshit all around either way.

Theo’s wand pulsed with magic, waiting for Draco’s answer.

Draco stood glaring at him. “I hate you.”

Theo glared right back. “If you weren’t such a self-sabotaging, self-loathing moron I wouldn’t have to do this. You think I want you hanging around my wife? I don’t. But being your proxy was also a shit realisation, consider this my way of getting even. You will make Hermione happy and you will get over your self-hatred and do it yourself this time or I will haunt you and I will make sure Hermione knows exactly why it is that I’m doing it. Do you accept?”

The magic was humming louder, growing brighter and Theo was beginning to turn translucent as though the magic was draining his life from him.

“Fine. Yes! I accept.”

The magic flared out and flew across the room, striking Draco and fading into him. He clutched at his chest but the light had gone.

He looked up.

“Fuck you, you manipulative bastard,” Draco finally said, his heart was pounding.

Theo just gave another wry smile. “You know, that’s exactly what I wanted to say when you walked in.” He sank back into bed, looking winded. “I’m glad you came to see me. I was starting to worry you wouldn’t and I was going to have to come up with a whole extra scheme. You saved me a lot of trouble. All worth it for Hermione though, right?”

Draco turned without another word and headed toward the door, desperate to be gone, even though he could feel Theo’s wish like a brand inside his soul waiting to come alive.

“You should go see Hermione,” Theo’s voice followed him, already threatening to haunt him. “You know, she admitted once to fancying you a bit back when you were volunteering at the charity. She’d planned to ask you out, but you never came around after your probation was over.”

[buttered-milky]

Maedhros goes crazy hard to me because yes he has a villain arc but he also has a suicidal ideation arc. You watch him have fewer and fewer living clues as the book goes on. You watch him have passive SI that gets more and more dangerous until it’s not passive anymore. You watch him slowly implode.

[Silly little essay ahead and we’re talking about suicide so be mindful. Feel free to add your own thoughts!]

Like he starts out pretty okay. The decision to go parlay with Morgoth on his own could actually be argued to just be stupid heroism and nothing else. He’s got things to live for. There are a considerable amount of people who hate him, yes, but there are also a considerable amount who admire and/or rely on him. Also, most of his family is alive and (debatably) well at this point.

And even on Thangorodrim, he doesn’t give up his spirit like we know elves can do. He begs Fingon to kill him, but he never just…lets himself die. There’s a difference between wishing you were dead and planning out suicide—a huge difference. He’s still got ambivalence, and he’s still resilient as hell (literally).

But things are getting worse. He decides to hold Himring. Which is the closest to Angband. The most dangerous. Because he doesn’t want anyone else to get hurt, or because he doesn’t care if he himself does—yet there are still reasons to be alive.

Most of his family is alive, too, and Fingon is anyways, and he’s done something good abdicating. He’s building himself for war, sure, but at least he is still capable of good?

And then the Nirnaeth.

He loses Fingon. He still has his closest family alive, at least, but they are all capable enough of committing atrocities with him. They don’t need to rely on him so much anymore—and none of the other Noldor are.

Maedhros is resilient, but there is less and less to be resilient for.

There’s the Second Kinslaying. He loses many of the few people who could at least understand him. He loses two elf twins who were his one chance at redemption. He’s so tired. There is almost nothing left, anymore, besides the Oath. There’s the Third Kinslaying. He’s lost all but one of his brothers. He gets two more twins he doesn’t even want because they are living reminders of his prior failure. He is still alive, though. Even though probably everyone in the world but Maglor wants him dead, he’s still alive.

And then the Valar take the Silmarils.

Maedhros has this beautiful argument with Maglor. I’ve seen people talk about how flawed Maedhros’ points are during that argument and I raise you this: they’re not designed to be logical. They’re designed to be hopeless. And they’re perfect at that.

Let me tell you something. I don’t know how many of you have argued with a very high risk suicidal person about reasons to live, but I have. You can go on for hours and someone who is truly hopeless will fight you tooth and nail to convince you everything that could be wrong is and that the world is nothing but hell. Doesn’t happen all the time—but there are people who do this. The arguments aren’t designed to be logical. They’re designed to be hopeless. They’re designed to convince you by any means possible that death is the only answer, even if that means is despair.

And honestly, the arguments aren’t even for you. This is just what this person has been thinking. It is justification. No one wants to make a decision they know they’ll regret. So despair as a forgone conclusion must be justified. There is no ambivalence anymore. There are no living clues. There’s only dying.

Maedhros is putting all his resilience and all his stubbornness to work convincing himself and others that killing himself is the only way out.

.

Hope couldn’t kill you on Thangorodrim, Maedhros, and nothing but yourself can kill you now because you’ve made yourself into something desperately strong. Nothing but despair can kill you now. You were holding up hope like a crucifix against despair and now you can only see the cross to die on.

Maedhros, you beautiful fucking tragedy.

.

We talk about his heroism slowly turning to villainy. The heroism is thinly veiled SI. You have to remember he is the narrative incarnation of despair. Suicide is the perfect end for him because despair and hopelessness is the one thread running through all SI. Despair is the one thing you can count on to always beg you to die, and it’s what ends up killing a guy who was otherwise unkillable.

[toaarcan]

C3E107 Thoughts

Okay first point of order, obligatory screaming about Abubakar flying an ocean to do a surprise return as the Arch Heart, you love to see it.

The Arch Heart's plan is interesting but I think they've either not telling the whole story or they're making a mistake. They assume that, in a moment of panic of Predathos being released early, their siblings will all flee. Except we know Melora would stand and fight, and we know that two of the gods are not Tengarian and therefore they have no past track record to base that thought on. They've got no clue what RQ and Vecna will do when the chips are down.

Of course, it's possible that the Arch Heart is hiding the truth. They said themselves that they are sneaky and that they were there without the knowledge of the other gods. They also kept stressing that they were being honest. Which could well be a lie. DC30 on the Insight check to see through any bullshit. The gods may have a different purpose for putting Predathos into a person.

The reality they've claimed is that the gods are currently in argument over what they should do about the Predathos situation, and the Arch Heart believes that if they have time to come to a conclusion, they will choose to fight. Whether that means war with Predathos or war on the people trying to release it, who can say. Either way, if they all come back, inevitably the Betrayers will try to kill mortals again, and the Primes will fight them. Calamity 2 will happen if mortals take too long to stop Predathos.

Ultimately the idea of cramming Predathos into Imogen or Fearne does not seem like a good one. We just spent the better part of 103 episodes watching Laudna struggle to keep Delilah under control. Delilah is the soul of a mortal fucking wizard. And Downfall illustrated the vast gulf between mortal mages and gods. It also showed max-level mortal bodies being disintegrated by the raw power of an unbound deity forcing its way out from within them. And the plan here is to cram a more-powerful entity into a Lv.13 Sorcerer or Druid and expect Predathos to not immediately escape or hollow them out and wear them like a cheap suit?

Then again, given the way it was being talked about maybe they are aware of this and recognise that whoever becomes Predathos' vessel is functionally or literally dead and doomed to chase the gods across reality for eternity, and that's a sacrifice that some have decided they are okay with. Either way, not a great plan.

The two members of BH that are most happy with the Arch Heart's idea are Dorian and Ashton, who are reacting to it like the perfect answer has finally been given to them. But it's not Dorian and Ashton who are going to be tasked with becoming the vessel. Imogen really does not want Predathos released. Fearne is more curious but Zathuda is actively trying to groom her into the perfect vessel and Shardgate was born out of Ashton convincing her to go with her gut and give him the Shard instead of taking it for herself, and I worry that with them on one shoulder and Zathuda on the other, Fearne may end up going with the plan and dying for it.

As for who the deity that agrees with the Arch Heart is... I don't think it's the Matron. The Arch Heart's words around her appearance are "You've heard my side," as if to imply that she represents the other. She was also one of the more reluctant gods when it came to leaving and building the gate, and she was consistently the "Stop doing hubris" one during Downfall.

The Arch Heart definitely did not have an answer for whether Predathos will harm mortals accidentally in pursuit of its meal. Also there's a probably-god chilling in the heart of the planet who isn't going to be running anywhere so that's not a great sign.

Zathuda and the Unseelie's dissatisfaction with Ludinus speaks to one of the bigger flaws in the Ruby Vanguard's plan. We've seen the gulf between mortal wizards and gods in Downfall, but Ludinus assumes that if he kills the gods then mortals will sit atop the food chain. Except they won't. There are a lot of entities that live in the gulf between mortal and divine, like powerful Fey, and also the Fiends the heroes keep running into. Zathuda evidently looks down on Ludinus and intends to betray him. To chase the gods away will open up the throne they've abdicated again, and it will not be a mortal wizard that sits it (nor should it be), it will be a devil or a demon or an archfey.

[geniemillies]

Yearning For Spring | Ch. 5 | Tamlin x Oc

◇— Chapter 5 - Daydreams

Ch. Warnings: the usual KoH warnings

A/n: A twinge of Hybern worldbuilding mayhaps?

✧ masterlist

<<Ch.1 <<Ch.4 ||◇|| Ch.6>>

Decades continue to pass. Then more still after I brought Velaria to Hybern.

She stayed with me though it wasn't her choice at first.. Despite all the reasons pointing for her to return home, she didn’t. She stood strong beside me, a pillar of unwavering support that kept me going when the world seemed ready to tear me apart. 

Words couldn't begin to explain how eternally grateful I am for her. Because if it wasn't for her staying I would've broke long ago.

With her insistence, I faltered and showed her everything. I realised early on that if she were to trust me I needed to be open with her and hide no secrets. So I showed her everything. I showed her the dying lands of Hybern and the territories that toiled away for the King's gain. Even going as far as taking her to the heart of my Father's Court, skillfully glamoured as my own servant, so she could see first hand the crown that controlled the island. And.. in time, I showed her the plans I'd been brewing underground. I took her to the Sidhe where centuries of my schemes accumulated, where I hid thousands of dissenters that I had supposedly captured and killed, all of them working hard to mold and shape a rebellion in my name.

A secret haven under the earth warded with magic I still don't understand to this day. Father doesn't seem to know about it's existence. The magic down there is.. erratic, seemingly ancient. While the rest of Hybern's lands are desolate and lifeless, the Sidhe is the opposite. Grass grows lushly underground and the water is pure, which is why the place is perfect for hiding the rebellion. I've long stopped questioning as to why the place is so strange and different. I've tried to search in history on the matter but I've been unsuccessful. Libraries are a rarity in Hybern and most books and tomes on history are hidden in the palace's forbidden libraries which none can enter. Not even me.

Despite the risk of trusting in magic I don't comprehend, the wards have held steadfast for centuries and many of the dark spells I've learned are weakened when used there if not entirely repelled, offering me a glimmer of hope that if my father ever discovers this sanctuary, his dark magic cannot hurt us so easily

To put it simply, it is a strange place. Nevertheless, the Sidhe is a safe haven, home to all the mercies I’ve spared, all the flaws in me that Father deeply abhorred. A second home to me besides the Lighthouse.

To say Velaria was stunned at every revelation I showed her was an understatement. As expected, she had always believed that Hybern was isolated by choice, convinced that the people of my land were pure evil, constantly scheming especially after we suffered losses in the War. It is.. a good thing that I could dispel such sinister perceptions of my people.

There was a kind of wonder in her eyes whenever I played with the children at the Lighthouse or when I showed her around the Sidhe. She told me I was.. a triumph. A flower amidst hellscape. And that I didn't deserve the life I was born into.

But she didn't pity me... I think. More often than not I see admiration in her eyes when she looks at me. 

Velaria showed me friendship like I've never experienced. I used to think I had many friends. But most of them are children who think of me as a maternal figure so Velaria deemed that they don't count, leaving me with.. less friends than I would've thought. Which is sad, sure, but Hybern isn't exactly the place to make long-lasting friends. Or any at all...

Velaria was someone I could confide in about problems greater than the occasional headache and sleeplessness I share with the children or the frustrations that come with planning military tactics with my lieutenants. She was someone I could trust to show the blight infesting my arms and the deeper burdens Father inflicts upon me.

Before her.. I never really had anyone to talk to about my troubles. My cousins, Brannagh and Dagdan, weren’t spared from Father’s ‘love’ either so one would assume they would understand what it feels like to be constantly tormented by the King. But they've grown to keep only to themselves in fear that we might read each other’s ill thoughts about him. I’d never read their thoughts lest they ask. But I understand their fears. I’ve become unmovable by Father’s side. I’ve become his most loyal pawn, his most blood-stained sword. Everyone believes so. I’ve worked hard to earn that reputation and I should be glad that I have it.

Still, I never expected it’d create such mistrust between me and my cousins that they too, would begin to fear me. That they’d think I’d ever sell their thoughts to the King in exchange for his praise. They couldn't know how often I let my gaze linger on them, searching for them in every corner of the room, desperate to ensure they were alright. Even when I was willing to take their punishments, to do anything to spare them from the wrath of the King when they did something that didn't please him, they still couldn't bring themselves to open up to me. 

I regret not attempting harder to alleviate their fears and suspicions. I should have divulged my plans and brought them into the fold of the rebellion.. But I’m ashamed to admit that I was also wary of them, that I was not spared the mistrust and fear that brewed between us daemati children. I kept my walls high and showed them only what they needed to see from me, in fear that they might find my secrets and sell me out.

By the time the rebellion was growing in number, they were already untrusting and I didn’t know how to approach them, to ask them to join me when I also couldn’t penetrate their minds. And I had no way of knowing that they wouldn't stray and betray me. I let the seeds of doubt fester too far that I deemed my only family a potential enemy. 

If I hadn't, maybe I could've protected them better. Now they're but mindless husks of their former selves, their souls beyond reach and their memories hazy and fleeting, like wisps of smoke that slip through my fingers every time I touch them. It only took one more torturous experiment to shatter them completely, for another failure on a task that Father was not happy with.

And I watched. Watched as the last spark of their souls left their bodies. What replaced it was dark magic I couldn't understand, merged into one sinister.. thing for Father to keep and shape into whatever twisted image of perfection he liked. Until they are just like him. Just as strong and cruel and… unfeeling. Obedient puppets.

Now they will not even speak to me unless necessary. They do not spare me a glance unless it's to prod into my memories. I know they're long gone at this point. Yet, my heart still aches for the days when Brannagh would reach out for my arm for support during her moments of weakness or when I would correct Dagdan's stance when we spar. Even when they push me away I cannot help but hope that there is a way to bring them back.. once this.. is all over.

And we'd all be free from him. Some day.

Velaria knows of it all. All my yearning, all my dreams and schemes. The weight of an entire country on my shoulders feels a little lighter when I share the burden with her. Velaria is the first friend I've ever made with whom I felt like I could speak freely without planning my words or worrying about keeping my mental shields up. Velaria is the first friend who made me feel like I could truly be myself without consequence, damn the masks and the glamoured hair, the titles and expectations that I long thought would be part of my existence forever.

Velaria feels like the tranquillity of a peaceful night's rest. And when she speaks about the city she's named after she's infectious with her dreams. We sit on the highest spot of the Lighthouse tower, overlooking the endless sea, our feet dangling over the edge while she tells me stories of Prythian. The more she does, the more I find myself yearning to see a glimpse of what a world like that looks like.

A world where the fog doesn't hide the light of the sun or the heaven's brilliant blue. A world where people don't live with golden shackles etched onto their wrists.. 

I long to see what living looked like. Even for just a moment..

|| Present ||

More decades passed still.

Then some more. But I never let go of the green handkerchief. It is with me now, tied around my wrist as the ashened curse continues to grow up my arm, like the roots of an ill-fated tree. The King planted it on the earth of my body and ever since.. it continued to fester. He calls upon me in his towers to this day, though not as frequently as he did when I was a child, he still does, and it still... hurts.

“Any side effects from this one?” Father asked, his voice cold and detached as I knelt on the cold stone floor, limp and tired, my vision blurred, pipes filled with bright liquid attached to my skin.

I shake my head, swallowing the lump in my throat as I gather my voice to speak. “It stings around the fingertips... I feel the power... crawling up my arm..” And it was. It was festering more and more and all he did was observe it like a child observing a toy work. "It burns.."

“Has your powers improved of late?” He asks as he paces around the room, a book hovering above his palm.

“I've been... using them on soldiers in training, prying out information. As you've instructed.”

“Any anomalies?”

“No..”

Father had amplified my daemati powers to an unprecedented, almost unrecognizable degree. While I could still read minds and feel the barriers of mental shields, he had altered- no, improved my powers of the mind into something different. My control over the mind can now be invoked through touch, hence the black that's tainting my arms. A perversion. Blasphemy. The Mother would churn at the sight of what I've been made into. 

Hours, days, and years I've spent on this tower while he worked to mold my powers to suit his twisted desires. I could now invade a person's emotions, thoughts, and memories through touch - without the need to break down their mental defenses.

This power isn't limited to just living things, I soon found out. When my fingers clung and clawed the stone-cold floor, I could hear the echoing screams of those who had endured torturous experiments before me. When I touched a piece of parchment, I could hear the faint whispers of the author who had written the words upon it. My senses were assaulted by a barrage of sounds and emotions, both past and present, with just a touch. To say that it drove me insane doesn't do justice to the reality. I hear everything, feel everything– so I hid the black that tainted my arms with gloves, only letting them disintegrate when I have need for my bare hands. For my own sanity.

A gift, he calls it. His gift. 

It's anything but. It’s a fucking curse.

He takes special pride in making me into what I am. He calls me a clairtangent, a.. one of a kind. His special tool. Yet, my enhanced abilities remained unstable, far from perfected. Which is why I often concealed my hands, why he continues to experiment on me, better me. I've long forgotten what my hands feel like without ancient spells forced into them. I look at them now and they're black, darker than the night sky, and infused with magic unknown to me. 

My own body is unknown to me most times. And it frightens me. More often than I’d want to admit. I’m scared of voices, of seeing things that don't belong to me. So much so that I can’t sleep because of it. They come back, the voices, my own and others, haunting me, never giving me a moment's peace. Which is why I have Manann brew me wakingdew elixir, to force my eyes open for a long time. A really.. long time.

Velaria tends to me and the wounds inflicted upon me during experimentation, away from the younger children's prying eyes. I do not wish for them to see me in such a pathetic state.. not when they look up to me.

She often tells me stories of her childhood, of her city, Velaris, the one she's named after. City of Dreams. Fitting, for someone who has many aspirations that fuel her very will to fight to see them fulfilled. She braids my hair and tells me all about the Night Court and how she wishes she could take me one day to see Starfall. I could only close my eyes and imagine what it'd look like and dream that one day... I might see it with her.

She braids my hair slowly, willing me to sleep with her stories but she already knows I do not sleep. I cannot. Not when nightmares await me on the other side of consciousness. So I sip my elixir quietly as she tells her stories, her voice proving to be just as soothing as any sleep one could take.

She tells me of Prythian, the neighboring island that I know so little of. She tells me of the Day Court, with its splendid cities and towering libraries. She tells me of the Dawn Court which she has not visited much. She said that I remind her of Dawn warriors, peregrines, with their big feathered wings, though colorful unlike mine. She tells me of the Winter Court, so bright in the morning that the light reflects the snow and blinds you. She tells me of Autumn Court, with their forests lush and orange, and in her words: “Smells like fresh afternoon rain.” She tells me of the Summer Court with its clear beaches and sandy shores. She tells me that she finds it funny that despite me living on an island, on a Lighthouse just above cliffed coasts, I do not know how to swim. And she threatens that if we ever get the chance she'd take me to Summer and throw me in the ocean to teach me how.

“Tell me about Spring..” I ask her and I feel her pause to think.

Velaria does not know that I'm mated to Tamlin. No one knows. It is the one thing I’ve kept from her. A secret that solely belongs to me.

She hums as she strokes my hair with a brush. “Spring is.. nice.” She said, “Full of.. flowers.. Lush green forests, pretty meadows. Lots of bugs though.” She chuckles. “I don't know much about the Court. But Tamlin is.. nice.” She looks down and I couldn't see her face on the mirror before me.

“He used to be friends with my brother. Though.. after everything that happened, I’d assume not any more of course.”

“Were you friends with him?”

“We spent time together when he was allowed to leave his Court to visit ours, sure. But it was Rhys who was close to Tamlin. Sometimes, he'd tell me about how he'd visit Spring without the High Lord knowing..”

“What is he like?”

Velaria thought for a while, perhaps confused. It’s the first time I'm asking her about a person and not a place.

“He's.. kind. Way kinder than his older brothers. Way kinder than his father. From what I've been told he's a great fighter. Rhys would always talk about wanting to spar with him. That is why Tamlin knew of the Illyrian camps. Rhys would take him once or twice.”

“Do you have anger towards him?” I ask. 

“I did. But now.. now I'm just conflicted..” She sighs. “You showed me what happened that night. While his father was cruel, he didn’t expect them to go so far as to actually.. kill my family. He protected me from his brothers. He begged you to take me away..”

“He did.”

“But my parents are dead either way.”

“Do you have anger towards him..?” I repeat the question. 

She looked at me through the mirror, a frown on her face. 

“I have no anger for anyone, maybe save for your father, Niamh.” She said, “Anger won’t change what happened, won't bring back the dead. And it wasn’t Tamlin’s hands that forced a blade to take my mother’s head and wings. On the contrary. It was Tamlin’s hands that trembled as he cradled my body and whispered his regrets, his apologies.”

Velaria sighs, a look of contemplation on her face while she continues to braid my hair. “And begged for you to take me to safety.”

“He killed your father.”

“And my brother killed his mother. They both suffered tragedies and let their anger and vengeance control them in those final moments before they ascended to their thrones, I have no doubt.”

“Which is a pity.” Vel looked down. “They were.. such good friends before. Rhys planned to reveal Velaris to Tamlin at one point, to show him the escape he deserved from his cruel home. Which meant he really trusted him. He must’ve felt so betrayed. I cannot imagine what went on that night you took me to Hybern, to avoid.. all that.”

She paused and tilted her head to fully look at me on the reflection. “You never really told me.. what would've happened if you stayed in Spring. If you had agreed to take on my Father's wrath. If you.. had finished the experiment they laid out for you.”

I paused for a moment to think, my hands unconsciously fidgeting. “I showed you the northern territories, didn't I?”

Velaria nods. “Yes. It's a wasteland. Nothing is left besides those who'd dare to live there.”

“Before my growing rebellion, that place used to be home to a secret league that planned to stand against the King. The villages were all in on it. Father found out and had them snuffed out.”

“Let me guess, he had you do it?”

“Yes. But I refused. Because I couldn't bring myself to wipe out an entire territory. I was still in my youth. Recklessly believing that I could defy him without being smart about it...”

My gaze falls to my hands free of their gloves. I still remember every second of that night.

“You had no choice..”

“I had no choice because he took control of my body and made me do it. When I gained back control, the territories were leveled into nothing. Just.. a huge chunk of land flattened because of what he made me unleash.”

“Niamh..” I felt her hands gripping my shoulders, their grasp firm yet comforting, like an anchor preventing me from being swept away into the currents of those memories.

“He told me that is what I should aspire to become. And that one day he will get rid of all the flaws in me that came in the way of that monster. For years he's been molding me so that I might summon that kind of power at will, without him forcing it out of me.”

“And for years, I've been suppressing it. Willing it to stay hidden. I never want to go through that again.” I never want to wake up like that again. My entire body was the same shade as the scarlet moon above me. I smelled death at every turn when he let go of my consciousness. And even when I cried and vomited on the floor of the earth, I still couldn't believe that my hands had done such atrocities.

I don't sleep just because of it. In fear that I'd open my eyes to that ever again.

“He agreed to send me to Spring in hopes that I'd be able to unleash that power. Lord Callan was curious to see it for himself and Father finally allowed himself to indulge him. Sending me like that... I don't know if I would've been successful in killing your Father. But I would've leveled Spring into nothing.”

My voice was reduced to whispers as I continued, “And I would have regretted it all my life...”

Velaria tenderly rubs my arms, attempting to soothe me. Her chin rests upon my shoulder, her gaze locked onto our reflections in the mirror, her eyes betraying a silent apology for ever bringing up the topic. I shake my head softly, offering a smile in response—letting her know silenty that none of my misfortunes were her fault..

“I cannot fault Tamlin for what happened. I know..” She mutters. “I know now how hard it is to have your life be in someone else’s control. To never be able to disobey their orders, to exist solely as a puppet, dancing to the whims of a controlling figure, even when that figure is your own father.”

She leaned back, gently resuming the braid she had momentarily stopped working on, her slender fingers deftly weaving my hair. “You two are similar in that regard.” She says, and I stop breathing for a second.

“Besides... the horrors of that night led me to meet you... So, it’s not that much of a loss, is it?”

“That is.. not a very good conclusion, Vel.”

“Meeting you is a very good conclusion. And knowing about your father's schemes to steal the Cauldron to break the wall and invade is very much.. a needed revelation to me. I told you my reasons before.”

“I know..”

“So don’t ever say that meeting you was a mistake or a waste of time. I’ll miss my parents dearly, Niamh. But I’ll forever thank the Mother for granting me a sister not a second after.”

My heart warmed at her words. “You hated me at first, I’ll remind you.”

Velaria grins. “No person could hate you. Not for long.”

“Amarantha would beg to differ.”

“I said person. People. Not the fucking she-devil herself.”

I laugh at that.

“I guess I have Tamlin to thank for handing me to you..” 

A warm smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. “Perhaps I ought to as well..”

There are many things I wish to tell him. So many. And yet, when I imagine him standing in front of me, words elude me. Not even a simple "hello" can find its way past my lips.

I looked to the side, remaining silent as I pondered. He must be struggling. Amarantha breathes in his neck, cornering him into submission. And yet, from what I hear, he does not falter, he does not submit to her. For that, I commend him. Admire him, even if it's from far away.

“You seem interested in him.” Velaria comments.

“I just wanted to hear your thoughts on him. He is the reason why we are where we are now..”

She hums. “He is. But you.. you look especially worried.”

I paused for a moment, finding the words to say. “You know I knew him. Way before all this. His father was allied to mine, they shared the same burning hatred for mortals. They'd attend Hybern balls and meetings. I'd see him by his father's side, tormented by his siblings, harassed by Amarantha way before she took over Prythian.”

I inhaled. “He was just a boy.”

“And that wicked female torments him still. I cannot stand it..” I mutter. “I can't even reach out to him, to comfort him and assure him that you're safe, that I've lived up to my promise. If he.. If he even remembers..” Does he even remember me?

“I'm sure he does..” Velaria reassures me, gently stroking the ends of my hair.

“And one day, when this is all over... I am sure to thank him and mention you. That by saving me, he has also given me a sister—one who is strong, kind, sweet.." She pulls back a strand of silver hair behind my ear. "–..and most beautiful.”

“When this is all over..” I close my eyes. “It is an optimistic thought.” A smile creeps on my face, a bittersweet one.

“It will be over, Niamh. And once it does.. You'll be free and I'll get to fulfill my promise and show you everything Prythian has to offer.”

“I will be counting the days, Vel..” I smiled as I felt her finish the braid, tying it with the green handkerchief Tamlin had given me.

Until then.. I will hold on to my daydreams, my small moments of joy.

     — —

A/n: They're honestly is so wholesome, can't wait to expand on them. Oh, the plans I have for Velaria 👁-👁.. Also, I will be doing more Hybern building, I'm really enjoying making up stuff for the place 👉👈

[doodle17]

Some DR theories that made me realize they should've hired me to write the Bendy Lore

I'm just gonna dive right in okay? Okay. First things first:

Audrey is not a Drew.

At least her soul isn't. Hear me out, why did all those failed attempts call Joey, her "father" uncle? That's not just some- weird flaw I don't think. Also, it has been proven time and time again that you cannot, I repeat, CAN NOT create a perfect living thing from the machine without a soul. Ink Bendy is a perfect example of that

One of the first things we hear the Ink Demon say is "A voice... A soul..." Why would he say that if Audrey was just made completely out of ink. It doesn't make sense.

Which is why, I think Audrey isn't a Drew. She's a Stein. This will come back later it is crucial to my next theory, I promise, so I'm quickly going to talk about:

"Everyone is just an ink copy"

See that? That's bullshit right there. I've already said you can't make a perfect thing unless it has a soul inside of it, unless you excuse the searchers and lost ones.

I really do think that Henry, Allison, Tom etc. Are all the real people. Henry is an interesting case, however.

I think it's in scraps of paper hidden in the Employee Handbook (the original one) saying something about how an employee was worked to death. Literally, found dead at their desk. Who's to say that wasn't Henry?

Joey could have had plans for an ink clone of Henry but was unable to execute it. So? Use the real Henry's soul for the copy. There ya go. It could possibly explain why some of Henry, and characters like Sammy, have their memories so jumbled up.

Now back to the topic of Audrey, what if Henry had a daughter? Joey always wanted a family, right? Seeing Henry have what he didn't definitely would have pissed him off.

So, if we were to assume that when Joey invited people over, like Allison, he could've totally sacrificed them to the machine. What if he invited Henry's daughter? And with her he could finally get what he's always wanted.

Audrey is Henry's daughter's soul

We learn that once your soul is trapped/bound to your character, you start to lose your memories, and even have false ones replacing who you really are. It happened to Buddy as he slowly forgot who he was, and started becoming more like Boris, until Buddy had seemingly faded away completely.

It could explain why Audrey has no memories of her childhood. Why she doesn't remember where she came from. Because she's not supposed to.

Audrey is really Henry's daughter, but her soul is now inside a different body, and believes she's Joey Drew's daughter instead.

Speaking of Joey, let me bring up my other theory:

Memory Joey was lied to as well

I know people think memory Joey is lying, and, while, yeah he totally could be, what if he doesn't even know he's lying?

Remember that Joey most likely made Memory Joey, and he could have told/made him to believe in everything he tells Audrey. The reason reason he seems so genuine in what he's telling us is because he was made to be that way. BUT remember when I said that you can't make something perfect without a soul? Remember how I said real memories can be replaced by false ones?

That could have happened to Joey. What if with his dying breath he became Memory Joey? He doesn't even remember who he really is or all the terrible things he's done because he designed himself to be the perfect "doesn't murder his coworkers for experiments" kind of boss, who made a few oopsies, but can easily be forgiven.

I hope this doesn't come off as ramble-y and doesn't make sense fam, but I swear this would have been a MUCH better concept

I love Dark Revival, don't get me wrong, but there is no way that none of the people we meet are just copies.

And I know there's a reason all the failed Audrey's called Joey uncle... That wasn't just some minor mistake...

[margarine-archives]

Could I possibly request a Capsaicin Cookie x female reader dating headcanons for when ur requests are open again? (First time requesting, hope I didn’t say anything bad/wrong 😭😭) ty!!

General Dating HCs with: Capsaicin Cookie !

note: hello ! I feel as if this request was such perfect timing (my little capsaicin draft has been sitting for awhile !) with that, I'm afraid this doesn't mention a feminine reader due to the fact this was made weeks prior, so I apologize for that ! I hope you may still enjoy this !

I apologize for my abrupt hiatus aswell, I have been hyperfixated on other things (the owl house !) but now I have returned ! I am planning on a fluff alphabet for a certain cookie ! ~

- upon realization before your relationship, capsaicin is hesitant, both in admitting his admiration for you and the possibility of commiting to a relationship. He's afraid of you fearing him overtime, or even after knowing about his affections for you

- harming you is the last thing he wants to happen, even if his entire reason for liking you is because you embraced him, embraced every bit of flaw he had despite the dangers he may cause, erupt, despite having the power to turn you to burnt crumbs, it was like you didn't care about such risks.. He's concerned, yet at the same time, his sweet, crumbled heart felt like melting lava !

- you made him feel free from the confinements of invisible shackles, to feel lighter despite the huge mountain of insecurities that weighed him down, you made him feel like .. well, him !

- he wanted to grow closer to you, to embrace you aswell ! but alongside, he wanted to distance himself as far away from you as possible. He sees you as a cookie too fragile, who might crumble the moment he touches you !

- this may take months- even years ! unless you are aware of his lingering emotions, then please do talk him out of this phase ! You don't know how much he yearns for your touch, but simply cannot because of his dying heat ( you may or may not have asked prune juice cookie for a fire resistance potion ! )

- upon the course of dating, capsaicin is a very clingy man, both in public and in private. Nearly his entire life without any form of physical cookie contact took a huge toll on him ! He is, without his knowledge, a very touch starved man. Though if you address your concerns about PDA then he will stop immediately ( a bit sulky about it but he gets over it overtime ! )

- public affection aside, he can get quite possessive aswell, not from ill intentions or anything ! Capsaicin has an extremely low self esteem, any cookie he sees interacting with you ( especially if its a suitor of yours ) automatically makes him think that the cookie is more deserving of you than he ever will

- if you do dislike PDA, then he is more eager to staying indoors rather than being outside ( that's quite the surprise ! ). It's like his firing heart might die out if he goes on a day without holding your hand ! Must you talk so long with a friend of yours ? he already misses your sweet touch !

- your suitors could treat you way better than he can, they would let you live a love life without any form of danger - you're safer with any other cookie other than capsaicin ! yet you decided to choose him.

- he constantly ponders if he even has the qualities of being a good partner, often questioning the things he does for you. He wonders if his efforts lack more .. effort, that maybe your suitors can truly be a better partner than him, a dangerous cookie since his youngest days. He doesn't want you to have to risk being in danger because of him !

- capsaicin refuses to listen to any other reassurances if its not from you, but he also dislikes speaking up about it, he doesn't want any cookie to feel the pressure of having to reassure him, even if cookies like kouign-amann wouldn't mind such things

- the good thing is that it's noticeable whenever he does feel upset about something, and whether it's about insecurities or his own trauma, please do comfort him ! give him physical affection and lots of praise ! he'll think that he doesn't deserve such words but it does feel nice to hear someone say that to him, especially you !

- capsaicin cookie dislikes being restrained, it doesn't matter what place ! so your dates are very frequent, if not everyday. He simply likes roaming around earthbread, hands swaying back and forth as he rambles endlessly about his friends' antics !

- alongside this, I have a strong feeling that he over prepares before he goes out on your date. He has to make sure he is prepared for anything and everything ! But for some reason he somehow forgets an item or two, one time you both went on a picnic date and he forgot the flowers !

- loves holding hands with you ! Whether it be for comfort, to ground his inner self, or to show small affections for you, playing with your fingers or massaging your palms

- likes showing off his strength to you ! In public and in private. He feels that it is a must - do requirement to prove himself to you ! To show off that you are dating a strong cookie, a cookie that has a burning passion for you !

- below the surface of hot lava, he can be very soft spoken with you, he feels so much trust and comfort in you to the point that it doesn't feel like a constant requirement to appear strong and mighty, because any other cookie, strong or weak, can have their opposite moments too !

- despite the mindset he has of needing to prove himself useful to you, capsaicin cookie is now aware that this isn't how healthy relationships work, and that you simply wont leave him for even the slightest bit of weakness shown. He is learning to love himself just as much as he loves you !

[honey-minded-hivemind]

Have I ever explained the Pearlification AU? Where the earth is being taken over by gems, humans were dying out, and the gems take in the ones they consider worthy, and make them into a gem... And that Pearls are not servants, but are considered treasures by the gem society, gems who are pure and unique and are to be adored and protected, kept safe in the Reef, a safe place, almost a temple, for Pearls, and their loyal guards and caretakers...

Reader and some of the teens are humans, who the gems took in/force adopted, and are slowly brought about the Reef after they were taken from Earth. Yet the gems plan to turn them into gems, Pearls, to be exact, to take care of and teach and love on... Reader tries to run away after the others are taken, but ends up in the room where humans are converted to Pearls... They end up being taken to a special room, where they're asked questions, such as favorite colors, what shape they prefer, oval or circle, how they want to look, their preferred hair style, the clothes they like, what they want to be called, if they can drink some water they brought for them... Reader answers, albeit shakingly and scared out of their wits, until they're told they've finished. Reader is taken to a room with warm pools, and bathes off any dirt or salt. Once they're clean, they're taken to another room, a waiting room of sorts... Reader is given a glass of odd liquid and told to drink all of it. When they ask if they have to, they're told it is important they do so. Reader drinks it, and ends up drugged, and is taken to the conversion room...

They're tested a bit after being laid down, their eyes are checked, their nose, their ears, their heartbeat, their breathing... Then they're lightly strapped down, and given an injection that makes them sleepy. They slowly drift off, to the sound of water and quiet chatter...

When Reader wakes up, they feel tired, yet a bit... lighter. Cleaner. They look around, finding themself in a large room full of soft pillows and blankets, in a carved bed? that looks like a shell. They can see a few sleeping figures, but they're... In different colors of the rainbow. From indigo blue to powder pink to scarlet red to ivory white and olive green and cream yellow, and many more... Reader rubs their eyes, then freezes. Their hands... they aren't any human skin tone they've seen. They're... colorful... Reader scrambles, feeling their body, noting that there's a gem on them, amd feels panicked. But they eventually calm fown enough to decide decide need to watch and observe, they need to act like nothing is wrong, at least not right now...

A few of the gems (the adults and older teens) come in, and Reader pretends to be asleep. What they hear is a small discussion between the gems about how after the conversion, they should all be pearls, and should not remember being human. They might remember friends and a few small things, but they shouldn't be anything besides freshly made pearls who are being taken care of and loved by the gem society...

So Reader, when someone goes to wake them up, acts lightly dazed and a little confused, but watches how the other tee- pearls, react. And see that they are mostly calm, bubbly, or asking what their purpose is. They end up lined up and taken to a room, where they each stand on a shell and are told to state their name (the color pearl they are), their flaw, and their perfections... Reader just hopes they can hold up against all of this, and can hide that they remember. Maybe they can snap some of the others out of it...

(Ask any questions you want about this AU! If you have an idea for Reader's Pearl color or what their flaw or perfections could be, I'm open to discussing it! I don't know why, but I like pearls, and the idea of the platonic yans loving the Pearl kids, who are like newborn gemlings now, is kinda sweet and creepy fluff... What do y'all think?)

[horizon-verizon]

The hauntings in Harrenhal do not seem random; they seem to act as "mirrors," forcing those burdened with guilt or regret to confront uncomfortable truths about themselves. One either acknowledges one's flaws and grows or gets crushed under the weight of denial, spiraling into madness. Those without emotional baggage seem to fare better—like the Strongs, who lived there without incident, perhaps because they carried no inner torment. But for those weighed down by guilt, Harrenhal acts like an unrelenting mirror, dragging every hidden flaw to the surface. Cole is a perfect candidate for such torment. Worn down by his choices and haunted by his regrets, he’s a man trapped by his own contradictions. Personally, I would like to see him haunted by the very hypocrisy of his actions, forced to confront the inconsistencies between his beliefs and his choices. Larys once claimed that Harrenhal would drive Daemon mad, but I suspect it’s Aemond who’s most likely to unravel. His desperate need for control/power, combined with the ghosts of his failures and ambitions, could push him to the brink.

Anon is cont a discussion from this post. Also, SPOILERS for a character death.

This is a good analysis, anon, to make for what we do have in the actual show itself. hopefully, for those who still plan to watch this coming season, they will go that route. This pairs nicely with Cole deciding to leave Aemond behind/Aemond refusing to move out with him after their bk!quarrel; the writers can take advantage of that at least. Cole running away from those confrontations, leading up to him dying in a road of corpses and dying without given the opportunity to fight for his life, three arrows as if he were an "animal". The way humans have conceptualized an unthinking nonperson, as Cole refused to delve deeper and reflect on the "the inconsistencies between his beliefs and his choices"--those reflections which make a lot of what we could call "humanity" or "personhood" by way of cognitive consideration of one's own morality and thought patterns.

He didn't "die like a man" ("man" in English language can also mean "human", historically & conventionally, so double meaning..."man's best friend" is a saying not just for males) AND died amongst the already dead--some living men who pretended to be dead and instilled a false sense of safety--who aren't "men" anymore. But the disguises of men pretending to be nonexistent, like some sort of reverse ghost-situation when he thought he left behind "ghosts" at Harrenhal, those noncorporeal figures "confronting" him, bringing forth those inconsistencies that haunt him to further haunt him. It all highlights what realities Cole refuses to acknowledge in general to maintain his black-white, and predatory behaviors. Now he becomes the "prey", going back right where he began and still trapped, just not bey broken, burnt walls. These writers actually could do so much...will they do it, though, hard to say.

Also, what's the deal with Larys? You seem to think Larys knowing abt Alys/Harrenhal's magic might mean that Larys was like to "go mad" or witnessed it in others. Perhaps that is another reason why he left Harrenhal himself?

[linkspooky]

Same anon for the Gojo post - loved your reply and mostly agree. However, although I see his motivations similarly + think it will come to bite him v soon, I kinda sympathise with him as I feel it's the role his strength has pushed him into. Like yes, he has people that care for him but the power difference is so extreme that he has to stand alone even when he's literally melting his brain to keep up. imo Gege might want to show that that much power in one person is inherently not a good thing

Continuing the discussion from [this post] and [this response], I agree anon Gojo is in the end a product of the system that he hates so much. Perhaps that's why Gojo's attempt at rebellion against sorcerer society is so flawed, because in the end he is still the Golden Child of that same society. In traditional Golden Child fashion there's basically no thought paid to the hardships in Gojo's life and he's not really seen as a person outside of his ability as a sorcerer.

Gojo's entire character is a meditation on having unlimited strength, and the limitations that come with it. He even realizes pretty early that all the strength in the world doesn't mean he's always capable of doing whatever he wants, and that he'll be able to save everyone he wants to save. My friend justapanda made a meta on how Gojo's actually one of the most limited characters in the series because of the nature of his strengths. I can list off the similiarities between Sukuna and Gojo all day, but unlike Sukuna, Gojo for the most part uses his strength for the masses and sorcerer society as a whole.

It seems only natural that not only would having the strength to fight a small nation's army single handedly alienate you from your much weaker peers, but also carrying sorcerer society on your back and working alone would only further serve to distance you from others.

Not only does Gojo continually work alone, none of his fellow teachers or sorcerers have any idea who he is - like as a person. There's an extra in volume ten where a lot of the main cast is interviewed about Gojo and they all just say some variation of "he's the strongest".

None of them say anything personal. On top of that we know for a fact several of the people who work with Gojo, including Nanami say that they can't stand him as a person but respect him as a sorcerer.

There's a pretty simliar character in Tokyo Ghoul who occupies the same spot that Gojo does as "The Strongest". An unnatural talent that puts all the other investigators / fighters in the CCG to shame and someone so unshakably strong he has no compettitors and seems untouchable in battle.

On top of that he seems to have no life / role / friends outside of his job. There's even a similiar scene wher eone character tries to interview everyone else to learn more about him.

In a twist it's revealed that despite Arima being the strongest character in the story, with a genius and talent that many people envied was someone with little to no agency over their own life. They're a natural born fighter yes, but in this case that's literal. He's a born and bred child soldier and that's the only thing he was ever allowed to be.

He's a character born to fight and kill ghouls, and nothing else. Even though he's perfect at what he does, he hates his life, he hates that he was born only to kill and he wants out of it. To the point where he turns against the society that made him just like Gojo did, even if he's one of the most respected members of that same society.

However, even if Arima wants to destroy the society he's a part of he's too big of a cog in that machine that he can't really see himself living in the new world. As one of the old guard when he destroys the old society he plans on dying along with it, and that's exactly what he does. He's too much of a product of the society he came from to exist without it, or eevn imagine anything better, the most he can do is destroy the old and hope someone else will make something new.

Arima and Gojo are characters who are similiarly people with talent that would supposedly allow them to do anything in life, but are actually rather limited in their agency. They're both stuck in the role that they were born in.

I'd say the difference is that Arima is much more self aware than Gojo will ever be. Gojo knows that he's lonely, he knows that there's something wrong with the society around him and he wants to fix it, but I think despite the fact that he did come to the realization that strength won't save everyone he still uses strength as his go-to problem solver.

His solution to the child soldiers that Jujutsu Society makes and sacrifices is to just... make stronger child soldiers. He says his goal is to destroy things and shake them up but he's not really out for destruction he's just making a regime change and putting his people in charge instead. Gojo knows Jujutsu Society is wrong, but he can't quite decode the "might makes right" that's been programmed into his head.

Having put that much power and responsibility on Gojo's shoulders may have just permanently rewired his brain to where he can't see himself existing outside of his role or any life outside of one as the strongest sorcerer like Arima's own tragic existence. Arima at least is self-aware enough to know that he doesn't want this life though, whereas Gojo is still charging ahead being Gojo.

You mention Gojo is literally melting his brain fighting alone, and just this latest chapter Kashimo even says something along the lines of even if it saves Gojo's life or beats Sukuna don't inrevene in the fight because this is Gojo's fight. Gojo's pride at being the strongest, is apparently more important than his life or the grand scheme of things.

You know priorities, but it does make sense this is tragically the only thing Gojo has really to base his identity around. Arima can't imagine a life in the better world he wants to create, whereas Gojo only know sorcerer society values of strength.

It makes me wonder if we're going to get a similiar ending to Gojo as we are to Arima. The tragic nature of being the strongest and his role as the golden boy of sorcerery society has just made it so that he can't really imagine a better world than the one we have right now, even if he wants to change or shake up sorcer society he's just too entrneched in it.

Arima ends his life by committing suicide to help bring down the CCG, whereas I don't see Gojo committing suicide but it's possible that the same way Arima died to bring down the old society with him Gojo might similiarly die alongside Sukuna. As a way to show that the old way of being a sorcerer and prioritizing strength over everything else is dying as an ideal and Gojo's students are going to rise up and replace him with a new way of doing things.

Which would make Gojo's character tragic in the same way Arima's is. Someone who genuinely wants better for the world but is unable to grow and adapt in time and therefore can't survive in the new world they want to create.

[acexspqade]

BSD SEASON 5 EP 11 SPOILERS!!!! Below the border

my rambling thoughts/grievances on a particular theory floating around about Fyodor and Nikolai and what happened in the last episode of S5

I see a lot of people theorizing that the yellow light that we see as Fyodor is “dying” is not the flames of the helicopter but actually Nikolai’s ability saving him from the wreckage. And while from a logistical perspective I have no issues with this theory; from a character perspective I find myself frustrated with it. 

It’s entirely possible that this was all a plan created by Fyodor and Nikolai in case of a situation like that, I personally feel like it completely undermines Fyodor’s character, specifically taking away his “fatal” flaw and leaving him as this invincible force and it also alters his dynamic with other characters in the series specifically Dazai and Nikolai.

My favorite Dazai and Fyodor conversation is their chess conversation they have while in the prison, because it finally establishes the fundamental difference between them. Dazai uses the unpredictability of humanity to his advantage, allowing himself to trust in his allies and their abilities rather than trying to predict and control their every action, while Fyodor looks at the unpredictability of humanity and attempts to control it, refusing to trust anyone else’s judgment but his own.

Simply put– Dazai trusts people and Fyodor does not. From that conversation, we as the audience are given the “ideal conflict” between these characters. Who will come out on top because of their way of operating? 

Fyodor or Dazai?

And Dazai coming out on top in this particular ideal clash makes perfect sense, given its an ideal that he himself evolved to possess. From how he interacts with people in Fifteen to his current self, we see Dazai actually learn to trust people and their decision making rather than trying to bait them into making the decision. 

[I can go more in depth about this change in Dazai’s character later if it’s wanted; this post is supposed to be about Fyodor and this does not need to be a dissertation].   

Fyodor had allies and he had a very particular ally in Nikolai. Yet instead of embracing Nikolai and such a companionship, he reasoned that he couldn’t control him and thus never allowed himself to trust Nikolai. There’s two instances where Nikolai’s allyship could have saved him both at the beginning of the prison break where we see a very visual representation of Dazai choosing to trust people in picking Sigma as his aid, while Fyodor chooses himself and his plan not once but twice with Nikolai giving him a second chance to change his mind and possibly even choose Nikolai as his aid.

We are all well aware that Nikolai wanted to kill Fyodor which was the entire purpose of the game Nikolai set up– but at the very least in choosing to trust Nikolai his chances of beating Dazai would have leaned in his favor. And at the helicopter, had Fyodor asked Nikolai to man it for him because of his injury, that vampire that he thought he had total control over would’ve never been able to impale him.  Nikolai’s want to kill Fyodor is a very valid reason for Fyodor not to trust Nikolai but his chances once again significantly improve if he simply chose to trust his closest companion. But he doesn’t and that is something I find so intriguing about Fyodor as a character. 

Another issue I have with the theory is what it does to Nikolai’s character. We see him grieve Fyodor and have a vulnerable moment parallel to the moment we get in his fight with Atsushi where he cracks and reveals his true nature before fixing himself and saying what should be in line with the persona he displays. Nikolai fights with himself about if he truly wanted to kill Fyodor, flipping between yes and no a few times when Dazai asks “You wanted to kill him, didn’t you?”. It’s such a heartbreaking moment for Nikolai’s character as he experiences the reality of the “freedom” he wanted. He has killed the one person who he felt understood him. He has killed his “best friend”. In what should be a moment where he is finally able to experience true free will unaffected by human emotions and feelings, Nikolai is the most emotional we have ever seen him. 

In one moment we see the literal destruction of two very flawed ideals crashing and burning to the ground because they chose to run from humanity instead of embrace it. So if it was all an act on the part of Nikolai, it just would reset any potential character growth he could have from this moment. 

Also people have pointed out the moment where Dazai is calling at Fyodor’s fatal flaw, saying that it’ll come back to bite him like Fyodor’s comments about the bond of sokoku came back to bite him. While I do think Dazai’s words will come back to bite him, it won't be his comments about Fyodor’s fatal flaw, more than likely it’ll be his assurance that Fyodor is “no doubt” dead as I highly doubt that is the case. The “vampire cosplay” bit by Chuuya and Dazai displays such a deep level of trust between the two of them that I just can not see being replicated by Fyodor and Nikolai because Chuuya and Dazai’s bond is very particular to their characters. Fyodor and Nikolai doing something similar would just feel like a cheap gotcha moment than an actual display of true bond that we get no build up to. We are shown moments in which Nikolai cares for Fyodor but it’s never reciprocated and even Nikolai’s feelings are clouded by his want to escape from them. 

So while I feel for the Fyodor and Nikolai fans in these trying times, I really hope Asagiri doesn’t take the route that Nikolai actually helped Fyodor get out of the plane and save his life. 

This is just my own personal opinion however so if you feel differently and would like to explain why I’m happy to have that conversation.

a/n: this is actually my first real post on tumblr so expect more of my ramblings about bsd and other animes i know way to much about.

[sleepykichii33]

my long-ish (not really) post about why kaito, kokichi, and shuichi are my favorite characters!!!!!

kaito: i LOVE him so much. definitely my #1 character. I love how he cares so much about everyone and tries to see the good in his friends, and i love how he just wants to protect everyone. I adore that on the outside, he seems like some perfect hero but on the inside he's scared and just doesn't want to show vulnerability. I love that he's flawed, he has anger problems and tends to blow up, and even results to literally punching people, he's not a perfect person. He's a lot more complicated than people say he is, whether it's the fact that he lies and pretends to be something he isn't, or he's not some stupid idiot who never knows whats going on. he did everything he could to protect the others to the point where he helped kokichi with his plan, becoming the blackened and going against all of his morals. he did something that went against every rule he ever had ever made for himself in order to be a hero. he's like kokichi in more ways than a lot of people will admit. he showed no vulnerability and did what he could to protect others. he had a facade, even if it was a different kind.

kokichi: he's SUCH a complex character it drives me actually crazy. I relate to him on so many levels. I love how he pretends to be some terrible monster who finds joy in hurting others, and he's the puppeteer of the killing game, when in reality, he's terrified, and he cares for everyone there. He put it upon himself to end the killing game even if that meant making everyone hate him in order to do so. He lied and lied until he couldn't. He KILLED himself in order to end danganronpa. He made himself some sort of villain to defeat the real one. He's literally like a fucking onion bro he has so many layers and the mischaracterization he goes through in the fandom is so insane?? he cared about everyone and most definitely grieved over people's deaths, especially gonta's. anyone who denies that is actually delusional. he was a sheep in wolf's clothing. he was innocent but did so much to villainize himself, and im sure, just like most, it hurt him. he didn't like doing ANYTHING he did. but he had to so he could end danganronpa. or, try to, anyway.

shuichi: I love the development he went through in the game. he went from an awkward character who didn't dare say what he thought because he was scared of how it would turn out. eventually, he got more confident, and it was easier for him to point at the culprit. the way he reacted to his friends dying and being in the game was so accurate to how someone would actually feel in a situation like that. it drained him so heavily to the point where he didn't want to live anymore by the end of it. he was such a good protagonist and definitely my favorite, whether it was because of his personality, his development, his reactions, etc. #1 protag for SURE. I hate how a lot of people say he's like a damn walmart version of kyoko, but he's more than that. he showed so much emotion, so much grief and anger, especially towards the end of the game. he went against hope AND despair. probably one of the most realistic characters of the game.

OKAY THATS IT!! SO SORRY IF THERES ANY REPETITION 😭🙏🙏

[kandisheek]

Hey friend!! I hope you’re doing well! I wanted to let you know how much I adore your works, and how your presence in fandom has always been a delight. I love your year in fan recs—it’s so wonderful to see so many names I haven’t heard of before, giving folks a chance to read something new and giving less well known authors a chance to shine!!

How about some fun asks now?

If you were suddenly a billionaire and could quit your job and fully engage with fandom for the rest of your life, would you?

What’s a fic you’ve been dying to write but just haven’t gotten to yet?

Why do you love Tony Stark?

Oh my god, you're the absolute sweetest, thank you so much <3 I can only return the sentiment, your fics are a constant source of joy for me <3 And I'm so happy that you found some new authors through my recs! As for your questions:

If I were suddenly a billionaire I'd probably try to take over the world Tony Stark style and (most likely fail to) fix all the agregious wrongs, so I might actually end up not having time for fandom stuff anymore whoops 😂 But in all seriousness, if I could live off fandom writing and arting, I absolutely would. Although I'm fortunate enough to love my real life job as well.

I've been planning to write this fic for ages, in which Tony is with Ty and due to their relationship troubles (which are solely Tony's fault, of course, at least according to Ty) Ty signs them up for a couples retreat. Turns out its a tantric fix-your-sex-life thing, which Ty knew but Tony didn't, so that's great. And guess who Tony runs into on the first day? His ex that got away, Steve Rogers, and his lovely fiance Sharon. Seems like Steve's gay crisis after his stint with Tony led him right back to the straight life, which is just the cherry on top of Tony's shitty sundae. However, it turns out that Steve and Sharon's relationship is far from perfect, just like Tony's. And Tony does remember how happy he used to be with Steve. He highly doubts that Steve thinks the same though. Right? -- I swear I will write this eventually, but the outline alone is like 4000 words long and I just know this fic will be the longest thing I've written yet, and I'm just... yeah. Eventually, I'll get there :)

And I love Tony Stark because to me, he's the human embodiment of mind over matter. Even when all odds are against him, he finds a way to come out on top, despite his multitude of issues. He always pushes for the perfect solution, reinventing himself time and time again. He has flaws, but he wears them like armor. He has trust issues but is fiercely loyal to his inner circle. He's charming and hilarious in the best possible way. And of course, it doesn't hurt that he's hot as hell.

So yeah, Tony is incredible, and I love him. And I love YOU for asking me these questions, thank you so much <3 I consider myself incredibly lucky to count you among my friends <3

[hiswordsarekisses]

“In life, as I walk through the fields and plains. I stumble upon a single wild flower that has blossomed and sprouted.

A reflection of God's glory on display. It's fills my eyes with unfathomable beauty and majesty. The intricate details and immaculate design. The subtle, pervasive, and distinctive aroma. It's tenacious and unrelinquishing roots. It's rigorous and vigorous stem. And the variegated radiance of its leaves.

Our hearts always seem to be drawn to such an evasive array. It is unimaginable. It was never intentionally seeded nor planted. Yet, here it lies before my eyes. Existing and subsisting.

Predetermined and deliberate.

More than humanity could ever hope for. I can't fathom but to think aloud.

Even Solomon in all of his splendor was not dressed and adored like this dear wild flower. Yet, it did not labor or even spin. Still, here it is. But, am I the only one?

Out of the billions of people that walk this land; am I the only one that has stopped to enjoy such glorious beauty? To be transfixed on such variety and diversity? But before I blink, I see a petal fall.

It's fatal flaw. The reality of what is to come.

The curse of our brokenness.

The sign of its next season.

As my heart drops, it is filled with appreciation. The feared realization. I am the only one to ever witness this distinct flower.

To comprehend and grasp such tranquility. To notice its existence. It's intended and fixed purpose. To know that I will never understand this moment until it has now become a memory.

An echo within my thoughts.

To show me the state of my well-being. My own fragile humanity. My drained and frail spirit.

My delicate life.

But will it ever count?

Will it fulfill its holy purpose? To herald such a triumphant and glorious truth?

To be sent or be spent?

Will my reply be yes to both?

To be ready for either?

Oh how my heart clamps to comfortability and false security.

To chase my own dreams and desires. My redefinition of myself in my selfish pursuits.

My false delusions and distorted realities.

My schemes and plots to achieve such perfection to only discover a misconception.

My heart to remain unsatiable and determined to answer my preposterous plea.

To hide behind my own pride.

To try to create my own story and act like I give You the glory.

My wondering heart always wants to flee. Yet, it conceives utterly absurd lies to me.

Why can my eyes never seem to see?

I do not plan my life.

I didn't will to exist.

The hardships, temptations, and trials.

The waiting, anxiety, and worrying.

The pain and disappointment.

I did not ask for any of this.

Yet, I did. Because I live to die.

But die to live.

I am not much; but I invite others. For all to be gathered.

To witness me dying to my worst enemy. Myself.

So they can see You live.

For me to count a cost. And be indebted to grace.

To run a race to see my Savior's face.

Because of a stained tree and empty burial place.

To be here and gone within a short distinction and variance of time.

To exclaim though You slay me, I will still hope in You.

That if I perish, I perish.

All that matters is it is for Your Gospel and name to be known.

For others to cherish.

My heart just lingers to see the true source; the reflection of that glorious flower.

To see the scarred hands that wove its pattern and outline.

To see you bind the chains of the Pleiades and to loosen the cords of Orion.

To seek You and live.

To know that being close to You was always still too far.

As my heart cries out to be where You are. To perceive such divine love that I fail to assimilate.

To know You.

To know You as you have known me.

To participate in Your sufferings and death.

To know the power of Your resurrection.

To know the depths of your love based off the depth of Your sacrifice.

To know You intimately.

Being greater than all I have ever wanted.

To understand the wondrous mystery. How you do not accept me just as I am; yet you love me despite how I am.

I don't want the knowledge.

I don't want the information.

I do not want the opinions.

I want the truth.

I want to know you more than I know You.

I just want to know You.

Please just let me know You.

To know You as my Father and to be known as Your Son.

Because You are God and I am not.”

~ Soli Deo Gloria