#You are now unable to comprehend complex concepts!

[thefirstanomally]

I keep getting so anxious my mind fogs up and I can't think.

[anneapocalypse]

I cannot help feeling like the tendency to see Inquisition!Leliana in stark contrast to Origins!Leliana has led to some people forgetting what... Leliana is actually like in Origins.

In fairness, as in all Dragon Age games some very revealing character moments happen in party banter which makes it easy to miss. But the gentle-hearted mystic who desires only to draw others unto the love of the Maker has never been all that Leliana is, and it's always been in direct conflict with the side of her that is not only adept at intrigue and yes, violence, but enjoys those things. This is the central conflict of her whole character, and it's not a trivial conflict, because there is not one simple answer to who Leliana truly is. She is both of these things. She is deeply religious and finds comfort in her faith, and thinks it should bring comfort to others as well. She's also prone to gossip and pettiness and all the qualities that helped her thrive as a bard.

There's this one particularly revealing piece of banter with Alistair if the Warden is in a romance with Morrigan:

Alistair: So have you heard? Morrigan and him are... you know. Leliana: Have you nothing better to do than to spread idle gossip? And besides, he can probably hear us both. You're not being very discreet. Alistair: No, look, he's not even paying attention. Leliana: Hmmm. maybe. You don't... think that he's serious about it, do you? The woman is a vile fiend. Alistair: Well, look here, now who's an idle gossip? Me-ow! Leliana: You're the one who started this, I might remind you. And I'm... well, I'm ending it!

I once had the especially entertaining experience of getting this banter, and minutes later hearing Leliana turn to Morrigan to give her the "It's so nice that you're together, isn't love wonderful?" line. But whether or not you have the pleasure of hearing them back to back, I think this dialogue make it pretty clear that while Leliana would like not to think of herself as a gossip, it takes very little prompting from Alistair to get her to slip back into that mean girl persona. And Alistair (who is more perceptive than he often gets credit for), calls her on it immediately, clearly embarrassing Leliana--who realizes that her mask has slipped.

I don't think it follows from this that Leliana necessarily hates Morrigan unilaterally. There's something much more complex going on between them, in my opinion, because they are such distinct opposites in upbringing and personality. Both Leliana's faith and her life of courtly intrigue are nonsense to Morrigan, who neither believes in the Maker nor has much patience for intricate social graces (at least, not yet). Meanwhile, I think Morrigan's outward self-possession and the sense of power she exudes is a source of both fascination and frustration for Leliana, who thinks she understands power, both social and divine--but finds in Morrigan a kind she cannot fully comprehend. (I also think you can definitely feel some sexual tension into their banter, especially the much-beloved banter about the velvet dress.) Ultimately, both of them are very concerned with power, but approach that concept very differently. And Leliana responds to this clash of ideals in a particular way because her own self-image is so conflicted.

As all great Dragon Age foils do, Leliana and Morrigan needle one another, push each other's buttons, challenge one another's sense of self, and in doing so reveal one another in their complexity and sometimes in their ugliness. It is perhaps easy to write this off as the tired trope of women being unable to get along with one another, or conversely to claim that they get along just fine and fandom has fabricated the tensions between them; I think to do either of those things diminishes a genuinely complex and sticky relationship that serves to reveal a lot about both characters.

[suliscool]

wacky amnesia the bunker theory/headcanon about the monster (first post :])

hello, amnesia tumblr, i am sul. this is the first of hopefully multiple posts. i aim to post theories, headcanons, and maybe even art. anyways.

(spoiler warning, in case you haven't finished the game, or haven't been spoiled yet, somehow. also, i talk about some violent stuff. bunker typical death or injury and whatnot)

i would like to present my theory, with headcanon elements, as to why the beast in ATB doesn't murk Henri during the time he spends in a coma, just kinda- laying in the sickroom. of course, people who are unconscious have this cool ability where they are quiet (most of the time) and since the monster mainly hunts by sound, i think Henri wouldn't really attract much attention, especially since the beast was busy with two or more dozen louder, moving, targets for a while. that's a perfectly valid and cool theory, but it sort of leaves me craving something even more complex and tragic.

hear me out: Lamby over here, during his human, as well as early transformation days, was aware of the fact that his dear friend, Henri Clement, is hurt, unconscious, and fighting for his life in the infirmary. he sat by his side longer than the doctor would stand around, waiting for him to wake up; maybe he even talked to him. as Lambert began transforming into the beast, his thoughts, memories, knowledge, as well as his very understanding of the world around him, slowly became more simplified, animalistic and twisted. what if this normal human knowledge of his bestfren laying in the sickroom became- something a bit different. he's aware that the sickroom contains *something* important to him, like, fragile. by the point of full monsterification he's unable to fully comprehend a concept like Henri Clement, so all he understands is that the location is somehow important, and that the piece of meat laying around is not to be harmed. what if while Henri was unconscious the monster even busted into the sickroom a few times and just kinda- stood around. what if he even took a closer look and recognised Henri, sort of, further associating him with this location. of course, Henri here is a very special case. i just think that this could be similar to the monster's relationship with the rabbit toy, as in Lambert's friendship, care and empathy, towards Henri in this situation were strong enough to halt his violent tendencies and bring back a little bit of his humanity. this only works for the most important people in his life at the time, who i, in my somewhat backed up opinion, believe to be Henri and Lambert's son, who Lamby associates with the rabbit toy. according to the notes in the game, one soldier claimed that he thought the beast had recognised him somehow. buuut that didn't stop Lambert from violently tearing him limb from limb and using his entrails as chapel decorations, did it now.

i don't think that Lambert can recognise Henri during the actual gameplay, at least not until it's too late. this ties into my other theory about the beast having bad eyesight, since Lambert needed glasses back when he was human. idk if anybody else has also had this in the actual game but i have had multiple instances where the beast just walked right past me, if i stayed quiet, hidden under a bed in soldier quarters or something, but the second i shuffled by one inch, he suddenly turned around and yanked Henri out of the hiding place, killing him instantly. things like this have led me to believe that the monster has poor eyesight, increased sense of smell, since he can track victims with open wounds by blood, and, obviously, very sensitive hearing.

i think that the beast doesn't realise who Henri is for multiple reasons. first of all, the bunker is dark and Henri is always keeping a distance, unless he's dead (i will get to that). it's very much possible that, if Lambert was nearsighted, everything is just extremely dark and blurry, leaving the monster with no chance of potentially recognising his dear friend. could he recognise Henri if he spoke? maybe, actually. although i still do not think this would result in Henri being saved or *safe* (i will get to that too). the second reason why Lambert cannot reognise Henri, that i've been building up to, is because Henri's location has changed. what if, in his simple little monster brain, Lamby has "rationalised" that Henri is in the sickroom, that he belongs there, even. therefore, another random soldier, who Lambert cannot even see past a blueish blur, out in the open, definitely not in the infirmary, would NOT be Henri to him. dare i say, he wouldn't even think about it, i'm pretty sure. well, he doesn't really think in general, does he.

and at last, the things i was going to get to. i have my own headcanon based on this theory as to what happens after Henri's potential death. you might've noticed that after the beast kills Henri via mauling him, or snapping his neck, it just kinda stands around and OF COURSE this is most definitely just the developers not wanting to animate the beast ripping into Henri as the screen fades to black. i decided to over-interpret it anyway. i like to think that once Henri is dead and within arm's reach for the monster, it can actually recognise him by being able to see his face. this then leads to Lambert, once again, regaining a smidgen of humanity, possibly lamenting Henri's death, before dragging his lifeless corpse back to the infirmary and putting it in the bed that Henri was supposed to be resting in this entire time. this is kind of the same reason why i think that Henri could potentially face an even more grim fate than the monster simply hearing and murdering him, if he heard and recognised Henri's voice. like, what if he still rationalised that Henri is supposed to be in the sickroom and started hunting him with the intent of returning him there? i think Henri *could* get seriously injured, or even die, if, say, the monster decided to drag him across the entire bunker, back to the infirmary. you know, over all that stone, debris, and those loose pieces of wood or metal. maybe trample him a little bit too. even being grabbed results in injury in the game, let alone all of THAT. aaaanyways

this was a bit of a hefty first post, if anybody actually read all of this, then i hope you enjoyed it! i had fun writing it, i sure love gruesome death/injury and tragic stories. have a good day, i'm going to go on a walk now. more posts coming soon! maybe

-- sul

[btower3689]

Natures of Celestials 1/2

I realized while working on this story that the character profiles are going to take a lot more research and time than I originally thought. Because many of these people are inspired by real religion and myth I want to be as careful as possible in their descriptions.

For now I’ll keep you all updated on some more concepts that will help you gain a better understanding of the characters and world. In particular, I wanted to speak more on the natures of the celestial entities in the story as they may differ from the traditional understanding of angels and daemons most are familiar with. 

Within the story “You Are Sheol”, we will be operating under the philosophy that energy in all forms is conscious and thus can harbor information, can remember that information, can forget that information, and most importantly, can have intentions. 

Energy is trans-dimensional and is the only thing in creation capable of fitting between The Veil. Humans can do magick with entities by sharing energy with them through intentions and worship. 

Death cleans the information of all energy, resulting in energy with no intention or identity.  There are multiple stages of Death.

The ethereal world makes work with dark matter. There are materials and elements composed of Dark matter in the 4th dimension that are unknowable to us due to our dimension’s inability to interact with it and our inability to detect it. We cannot comprehend it. If a human consciousness finds itself in the psychedelic world, it will likely be unable to understand the material even if it does interact with visible matter. This makes the ethereal world and higher dimensions mysterious in nature.

Examples of material and machines made from dark matter.

All celestial entities are composed of Energy in waves or forms that exist on spectrums and vibrate at a certain frequency. This energy is generated by feeding on Dark Matter in the form of different Primordial Elements. The result of this energy feeding on these elements is Primordial Fire, the result of an entity’s energy. The result of this interaction becomes a consciousness in varying degrees of complexity. All of these entities have names but very few have been discovered by humanity. 

Primordial Fire

Within these higher dimensions these beings have unfathomable mass and gravitational fields. Instead of a material body, a celestial will have a melam, which can be considered their ethereal body, a projection of the energy emitted from their Primordial Fire. While symbolism often relates angels to looking like birds, the rapid fluttering of their colorful wings are closer to that of moths. Celestials do not rest. Energy is collected through various means depending on the entity. Celestials have precise control over their own matter and energy.

A visualization of what celestials may "look like" in higher dimensions

Because celestials do not have physical bodies, it is easier to think of them as ideas of people and concepts rather than “people��� themselves. A collection of energy in a closed system that has developed an identity, and in the case of Collective Angels, may have roles and natural intentions (to blow the wind, to grow the trees etc.) 

This means they can be considered many ideas at once, and can be in many places at once. Many versions of a celestial can exist from our perspective whilst still being considered the same entity. Celestials can simultaneously be classified as both damon and angel, but Collective Angels cannot be considered Daemon. Collective Angels can however, be Lower Gods, as can Higher Daemons.

Because these entities are thought forms, they can be accessed via specific correspondences that align with the entity's energy. These correspondences, in the form of colors, scents, sounds, elements, timing, planetary alignments, animals etc, all contribute to the energy of a specific individual entity.

Some entities reside on Earth, most do not. Entities exist in all parts of creation, and creation is incomprehensibly big. These entities may or may not have motives that interact with Earth or Humanity, and it should be noted that there are many entities that have never and will never interact with humanity at all. 

(Living creatures in other solar systems (which would be aliens to us, I suppose) worship the Gods of their creation just as we do, and those Gods have domain over those sections of space. Our story is mainly focused around the Gods of the Milky Way Galaxy who obey our laws of physics.)

Knowable Creation

Celestials (Gods, gods, Angels, angels, Daemons, and daemons)  can manifest themselves in the material plane as different forms of energy. There are entities that exist in high forms of energy, and there are entities that exist in low forms of energy. It takes a gargantuan amount of energy for a celestial to manifest in the material world without a material body. Our material plane simply cannot handle the complexity of their being, and their mysterious dark matter cannot pass between dimensions. So celestials often opt to manifest as one of these lesser forms of energy to make contact with the material realm. 

Energy is recognizable in the performance of work and in the form of heat and light.  Energy is transdimensional. 

For our purposes, we will say there are 7 main types of energy that a celestial may manifest as. 

Nuclear energy, gravitational energy, light energy (in all forms), mechanical energy, electrical energy,  sound energy, and chemical energy.  

(I’m sure through some technicalities we could identify more)

The spectrum that an entity exists on will fundamentally affect the forms that they present or manifest as. More importantly, the spectrum that an entity exists on outlines the limitations of their power both in the material world (our world, 3), the ethereal world (4), the psychedelic world (5), and onwards. 

It should be noted that an entity can exist across multiple spectrums, and may present in our world in one or more spectrum at a time. This requires more energy. Therefore, it is typical to see less powerful entities (spirits) manifest in only one spectrum at a time; ex: a lesser spirit may manifest as a whisper or a light, but usually not both at the same time. 

Higher entities can utilize the use of multiple spectrums to become more vivid in ways that lower spirits cannot. The spectrums that entities exist on also corresponds to the five senses, the elements, and by extension to the abilities that a psychic can develop (this will make more sense later). 

Manifestation through Nuclear Energy

Many Lower Gods and Higher Angels manifest as stars in the material plane, which is truly a testament to their overwhelming gargantuan energy and provides a mental scale as to why these impossibly powerful entities must stay so far away from us. Like a chemical reaction, the reactor within stars is the means to manifest the energy of the celestial (the angel is not literally the star but the energy conjured from the star). Practitioners can utilize the energy of stars through Astrology.

In the dawn of Earth’s creation there were more instances of natural self-sustaining nuclear reactions, I suppose it could be theorized that entities may have presented in this way on Earth in the past- but save for the most obvious examples, this form of manifestation is generally unobtainable through any means beyond Astrology. In our world this can more or less be disregarded except in the unique situation of Angels and Gods of War and Destruction manifesting in the form of nuclear warfare.

Whatever the case, this phenomenon shouldn’t occupy too much of your mind but provides an additional context to Astrology and deity worship.

Manifestation through Gravitational Energy 

Like Nuclear Energy, consider this irrelevant except in the context of gargantuan masses like planets and stars. This is more or less unobtainable from a practitioner’s standpoint, but holds more significance in the ethereal plane and how entities interact with each other. Higher Angels and Daemons are extremely massive in their own dimension, so much so that they affect other living creatures around them. For this reason it is incredibly rare to find an angel hanging around a lesser spirit like a fairy. Angels are able to control this pull to a degree through reducing their density by dispersing their matter or increasing their density by gathering their matter to a single point. Angels know how to navigate each other's gravity and lower angels often orbit their Archangel. If not for the dimensional separation, the gravitational pull of a single angel would likely be powerful enough to decimate the Earth in an instant. 

Manifestation through “Light” in all forms

This would be referring to the Electromagnetic Spectrum, or “light” spectrum across all frequencies. This is one of the most common ways a celestial entity or spirit will manifest, but this can mean many different things. With the right tools some forms of EM energy can be converted into other forms of energy like sound. Entities that manifest on the electromagnetic spectrum move at the speed of light and are the fastest entities in creation. This is more or less irrelevant to us here on Earth but is extremely significant in the hugeness of space. Keep in mind that just because you may not be able to see the entity, does not mean that it is not incredibly bright.

Manifestation through Radio and Microwaves

The lowest wavelengths on the EM spectrum and the easiest to manifest as. 

The age of technological advancement has truly been fruitful for Daemons. Entities will sometimes manifest in radio waves that can then be picked up by devices like a conventional radio, a television, or Spirit Box and converted into sound or images. This also means that Daemons can easily and efficiently manifest via the internet and television, and Higher Daemons can use tvs as portals. This has often been used to disrupt communication between and decisive humans or to plant the seeds of ideas in them.

Daemons manipulating television

The Seal of Solomon, also known as the Sigil of Solomon or the Seal of Suleiman bin Daoud, was a deal created by Suleiman that made it so that Daemons who were bound by it could not harm innocents wantonly. In exchange it provided them with protections as well. The Kings Pact binds them so that they cannot show themselves or speak to us, meaning that it revoked their ability to manifest as visible light or audible sound waves. This was a good solution for many years, however, the development of the internet and television made it so that Daemons could be seen without being seen through monitors, and heard without being heard through speakers and applications like social media. This is a massive loophole in the seal that was then wickedly exploited. 

The King's Pact, A Daemon using television as a portal

Manipulation and intersection of radio waves is a common and reliable way that entities communicate with humans. Nearly every single celestial in creation emits radio waves and uses them to communicate with humanity as well as each other due to their efficiency in penetrating most materials and their ability to travel indefinitely in the vacuum of space. In the ethereal realm, the psychic link between Collective Angels that is used for vast communication is most usually carried in high frequency radio waves, hence the appropriate name “Angel Radio”. It is worth noting that while humans may not be able to hear or see radio waves, the brain is sometimes capable of observing them. 

Manifestation through Infrared Waves

With the correct tools, Infrared light shows us how hot things are. Like radio and microwaves, most every celestial entity in creation emits immense levels of infrared rays in their own dimension because they burn so incredibly hot, but these rays can usually only be observed by us in extremely unique circumstances like summoning and in the case of spirits, in hauntings.

Some angels employ the use of Infrared Energy in healing. Fluctuations in temperature during magical operations is a way that entities may make their presence known. Likewise, entities that absorb IF radiation may manifest during hauntings as unnatural cold spots. 

Pls stay tuned for part two posting soon I reached the image limit lol. If this is your first time seeing one of my posts pls read the other ones bc it probably won't make any sense if you don't. ::))) Thxx

[astrum99]

@patronsaintofdemons from original post

*runs at u* *snatches u by the arm* *shaking u shaking u* I GOT U. YOU RE NOW A VICTIM OF MY THOGHTS . DO NOT RESIST. 

No joke I woke up yesterday morning at 4am, saw ur tags, and couldn’t get back so sleep for a whole hr bc I got so excited to talk abt whatever funky waves my brain is generating ( I am at peak obsession right now, I am generating enough energy to power a small city))

Sorry if I’m being awfully deranged. I'm not used to being Comprehended and Perceived as an existing entity. Please excuse the part of me that is vibrating so hard I am about to emit light beams from my eyes like some sort of cartoon character. Anyways.

Ultrakill, so far, doesn’t actually have a super complex lore. The story is succinctly simple and tragic. The characters as well. I won't focus on that because my obsession lies in Gabriel. From your tags, it looks like you haven’t gotten deep into the game (yet), so I don’t want to spoil the fun if you ever decide to watch a playthrough of the game, or play the game yourself.

And I can avoid spoilers because, for this post, what I latched onto is not his character arc, but his inherent setting of “an angel”.

“Why are you thinking of an angel”

Well. For starters. I wasn’t thinking about angels at first. I was thinking about his thighs and what he got down there. 

Stay with me. The horniness is fading. The poetry is starting. (shaking you)

Click see below.

No? As if you had a choice.

Jokes on you, I lied. This is less of a poetry and way more of an incomprehensible ramble on why Gabriel is irresistible to me. I hope you enjoy it anyway. <3

Humans are largely made of storytelling and wonder. A desire to strip back layers and layers until a deep, concise answer is found. Then we move on. The study of magic: biochemistry, aerodynamics, fusion physics. We boil the universe down to the barest essentials, then examine some more. We looked inside ourselves: blood, plasma, enzymes. Until we reach the concept of consciousness and suddenly, we are incapable of going further. Attention turned to the sky: planes and rockets; astronomy and “what happened before the Big Bang?” in a child's voice. And we saw that the stars were moving further away from us, faster too, and we thought "we'd have to keep going."

It is at these ends that things become interesting. Never-ending debates of questions that will never be solved because of our inability to go beyond the limits. Reaching the skybox of the universe and unable to do anything more than to speculate what lies further still.

It is no wonder that the thought of an angel captivates man. If it exists, then its nature of being far outside of our observational capability becomes the ultimate lure for artists and scientists alike.

For example, what form would it take? A question of pure speculation, no different than a child's image of aliens. Brainstorming shapes and curvatures and weight in the three-dimensional space, fruitless and fantastical.

An abstract form, perhaps. So abstract that it becomes a type of cosmic horror or a Lovecraftian horror. The burning of eyes, the melting of mind. To lay eyes on it is to condemn yourself to death. Radioactive elephant's foot. We'd try to see it regardless.

A holy being, perhaps. Formed like a man but spills pure light when cut. Would it even cut? What does it mean if the imperfect blade made from the hands of a lowly man had sliced through its skin? Skin? Does it have skin? Like a salamander? Like a leopard? Can a creature’s skin contain the light of god? …Would it leak like a broken puppet? Does it sometimes hate itself like how some of us hate the silhouette of our shadows?

A man, perhaps. Uncertain if it became an angel because the mold of humankind was filled to the brim with divinity, or if it is divine because the pile of carbon assumed the role of an angel. Does it know? Does it wonder? Does it see man in itself, and itself in man? Does it feel lonely to be separated from its lightless siblings that wander the earth freely and sinfully?

And if it is man, as physical as it can be, how close am I to it? …What makes you sacred? Can I see? Can I touch? Can I study your form as millions of humans studied every inch of their world, concrete and abstract? Do you see me as ants? Or family? Would you grieve for me as I have for the songbird?

If I cut you open, will you hold yourself down for me?

Will you forgive me for desecrating you like so?

I think I would be ok with dying by your hand if it is you: let me trade my sight to see you, let me trade my life to touch you. To know you is to cross the limits of the beasts. Sacrilegious.

… And I don’t think you’d allow me to. It’s not in your character. Another angel perhaps, from another story. But I’m thinking of you. And so I can only think, like ancestors before me, and descendants after me. Of the study of magic, of self, of sky.

Of angels.

Truthfully, I’m not a believer in a higher being, never have been, probably never will; but standing on the boundary between life and death and yearning to know the feeling of an angel’s skin under my fingertips are the closest thing to a prayer I have ever experienced. Passion burns; I tend to the fire.

And it’s so regretful that I will never know (because you are an angel) and I will never know (because you are born of fiction) and I am never supposed to know (because to completely understand something or someone is to remove the wonder and hope and passion - like how life without death is timeless and still).

So, this is a love letter of sorts. Because I can’t be the only one craving to know every crease and crevice of this holy being made wearing the same shell as a creature who roams the earth blindly, bumbling, and mad.

------

By the way, please excuse grammar issues. Both my writing in the original post and this one are messy and not thoroughly edited. I just type my brain words out in one setting (partially because uni is in full swing). Sorry if this is on the too-long side of things. I was 700 words into my take on human storytelling before I went: “wait, I’m going way off topic” haha Hope this version is more palatable!

Also just wanna let you know: I just started posting my writing, so your tags were one of the first few that came in and got me really excited! I’m always so happy to read the tags of people who enjoyed my stuff. Thank you!

[raandim-emortal]

My favorite thing about Scum Villain is how it reads ‘trashy harem turns trashy danmei self-insert fix-it fic’ the same way OHSHC is also a parody of problematic yet very common tropes in other genres of media (which people also enjoy misunderstanding).

Satire is an amazing way to creatively and an oftentimes funny way to point out issues and flip them on their heads in order to create a space for meaningful dialogue. Unfortunately, I think the fact that it’s satire goes over some people’s heads which is why they just think it’s a stupid trashy novel.

To be clear, it is a stupid trashy novel, but that’s the point! And it’s done very well.

There’s also space here to talk about a readers ability to analyze, research, think critically about a work, and meaningfully converse about it. Which are all skills that many people simply do not have.

And that’s unfortunate because MXTX along with many many other well-known danmei and baihe authors write such captivating, thought provoking, beautiful stories with complex characters and themes. And it’s unfortunate that many people who read these stories will not understand or be ultimately unable to comprehend a large portion of them simply because they don’t even research or analyze what they’re reading in order to have a better grasp of what it is they’re reading.

Many people (I’m speaking generally of English readers) don’t take into account the cultural differences between the reader and the author, or even of our modern societies and that of an ancient fantasy society heavily based on folklore from the areas that we now mainly recognize as China and Mongolia.

One thing I like about officially translated works that are published by companies like Seven Seas is that they do try to add in some of those references and they have a large glossary in the back that helps expand on some common concepts and references, plus a name and pronunciation guide. But there’s a) no guarantee anyone at anytime is using them and b) not all fan translations have those.

So if you’ve made it this far here’s some tips for either yourself or someone you know that can help with one’s ability to research, analyze, think critically, and communicate meaningfully:

1) keep in mind that just because you did not enjoy something does not mean it’s bad, it just means it wasn’t for you and that’s okay!

2) if you read a word and you do not know how to say it or what it means, look it up! Use the dictionary or the dictionary app or even just Google. If you’re reading on a screen, you can highlight the word and you should have a selection option to look it up.

3) if you read a phrase or something is referenced and you don’t understand it, look it up! I think we tend to forget that we have a world of knowledge at our fingertips and that if we don’t know something, it’s okay, we can look it up! And that’s an amazing ability we have that we didn’t use to, please take advantage of it!

4) interact with the communities online somehow. Get the hashtags to show up on your fyp on TikTok or add it to your repertoire on Tumblr or Twitter or whatever you use. For example: Read the character analysis’ people do, they can be very enlightening sometimes, especially when someone has an idea about a character you couldn’t quite put into words or have a perspective you didn’t think about. Which leads into

5) keep an open mind! We don’t know everything, and there’s no way to read something once and understand everything about it. Hell, you could read something 10-30 times and probably still not understand everything about it. And that’s the best part! Learning new things about something you read or enjoyed etc. deepening your understanding of a story and it’s characters and it’s world and what it references and is inspired by is so much fun.

6) read the footnotes and the glossary if there are some, they are there specifically to help you gain a better understanding of the novel and it’s world and outside inspirations and references.

7) to expand and double on #1, it’s okay to dislike a piece of media, but that does not make it bad. I would implore you to at least try to understand the piece of media and be able to communicate why you dislike something. In some cases I think sometimes we don’t know why we dislike something and I think that if you explore and try to understand not only the piece of media but why you dislike it, you’ll find it very fulfilling. Meaningful conversations do not just happen between people excitedly and or intelligently talking about and breaking down a piece of media they enjoy. They can and do happen between people who have conflicting feelings and opinions and can be very rewarding conversations when both people are knowledgeable about said media. And who knows, maybe you’ll both learn something from each other even if your opinions are ultimately unswayed 😊

Okay I take it back the actual funniest thing about how many people performatively hate on scum villain because they think it’s bad and trashy and irredeemable and Problematic is that they are unwittingly re-enacting an almost perfect impression of the main character, a young terminally online guy who hate read a trashy porn novel and got in so many internet fights about how bad and irredeemable and garbage it was that he died choking on his rage and was transported to suffer the role of expendable backstory villain in the world of this trashy porn novel he hated so much.

And that’s fucking hilarious.

[thrandilf]

sometimes I think abt how much ppl wring their hands over what is and isn't "children's media" and are so concerned that stuff like watership down or coraline or whatever are sorted as kids' books or say that xyz kids' show that adults also like is "not really a kids' show/kids can't appreciate this" because it's well made as if emotional complexity or some darker moments/topics such as loss are only for adults

what if some stuff is enjoyable by almost everyone

why do we assume no one under the age of 13 has any emotional intelligence, life experience, or appreciation for stories with plot. kids have their own lives with conflict, exposure to the concept of death, complicated situations, imperfect families, and morality

before some smartass comments, yeah some stuff is not kid's media if it's like R-18, but there's a lot of things that if a kid wants to, they could enjoy it and find meaning in it.

it just bothers me to assume that everyone at age 9 is universally not able to understand x emotional concepts or have lived such a sanitized existence that they can't comprehend grief or high stakes stories

idk. not every kid will want to consume the same stories and that's fine. but why do we assume they outright Can't feel things or catch any amount of nuance. even if they are looking at media a little above their current grade level, isn't that how they grow? Do you guys remember how wild some juvenile fiction is? kids can be smarter than you think. I read LotR when I was 8. yeah as an adult it's way different to me now. but I wasn't unable to comprehend anything about it when I was 8

I guess what I'm really trying to say is that we can't read kids' minds and to not cram people down into a box we deem "their level" or just assume they can't pick up on things because it's demeaning. talk up to them, not down. Treat them like they're individuals and not your generic idea of what a ten year old is and adjust accordingly

[burninglilys]

run for your life with me

Or, 4 times Pang and Wave imagine beginning anew and 1 time they actually do.

(#thegiftedweek, day one: new beginnings)

1.

"Do you ever think about running away?" Pang asks, his jaw clenched, staring determinedly at his bulletin board as though he'd posed the stupidest question that Wave has ever heard to the board and not Wave. 

It has only been three days since they decided to work together. Three long days, in Wave's opinion, who feels quite rattled at the influx of all that is Pang. He has been drenched in confusing feelings, too mingled up to pick apart the intricacies of it every time that he’s around him. Wave would love putting it in a tiny chest and hiding it under the loneliest corner of his mind, avoiding it all, but there this inexplicable  pull of Pang -- with his easy smiles and sharp mind -- that he just can’t deny. 

Wave peels his eyes away from Pang, who stands honey-hued in the room reflecting the sunlight that pours in from his window, and turns his gaze towards the board. 

"No," Wave replies, honestly. 

Pang startles at the answer, his arms that were sternly crossed against his chest falling at his side. 

"Really?" 

"Really," Wave confirms, looking at Pang again. "This is my reality. I have got to accept it because there's no way out of it but this."

Pang looks all out of sorts at that. "Why?" Wave asks, "Are you thinking about running away and starting anew?" 

Worrying his lip between his teeth, Pang clenches his fists again. "They're just fantasies, you know? Of running away, beginning again. It helps deal with the reality easier," Pang says in a small voice that Wave decidedly does not like. "I'm not actually going to do that, not when we have just started; certainly not when we have so much left." 

"Well," Wave starts, deciding to do something he'd only ever thought of as a mythical concept -- compromising, "As long as they're just fantasies."  He internally cringes at how sharp his voice sounds, when he actually means: please don't run away. I would not know what to do if you did. 

"It's just," Pang huffs, rubbing the flat of his palm on his face. "It doesn't hurt to imagine, you know? Running away from Rithda. A life where the director does not exist; a life where we can live in this bubble of ignorance about everything that's wrong with the education system as a whole."

Wave looks at him, at a complete loss for what to say. 

“You should imagine how you’d like to live your life away from this all,” Pang says. “It helps, I promise. Then you have an idea about the future that you’re fighting for. That we are fighting for. And we can get to building it right away, once this all ends. Or just away from it all, if it doesn't.” 

Wave chooses to ignore the multiple ‘we-s’ that scatter throughout all of what Pang said. "Yeah, right. As if you wouldn't do the same anywhere else. Running away from this responsibility of making things equitable for all is equivalent to running away from everything that makes you, you. A place would hold no power over it." 

Pang's eyes crinkle around the edges, his dimple deepening, as he lets out a laugh full of mirth. "Oh?” he asks, his tone teasing, “You know me that well, huh, Wave?” 

Wave hurriedly averts his eyes from Pang. “Shut up,” he grits out. 

“I thought you hated me,” Pang says, taking a step towards Wave. “I thought that you couldn’t stand to be around me.” 

“I can’t, you asshole,” Wave says, stepping away, ignoring the deeply contradictory feelings that run through him. “You’re the worst.” 

“You wouldn’t have agreed to work with me if that were true,” Pang hums, coming to stand beside him, their shoulder brushing against each other. 

Wave stares at the withering corner of the bulletin board, prepared to not look at Pang until he moves away. “I just hate the system more than you,” he says. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.” 

“Your friend, huh?” Pang asks, bumping their shoulders together. “You think of me as your friend?” 

Wave sighs, turning his head to steal a glance from Pang only to realise that he is already being looked at. Wave holds his gaze, not dropping it despite how much he wants to, scared of the emotion that might just burn him from inside. 

“I think of you as an annoyance,” Wave answers and does not move away. “An annoyance who wants to bring down the system and yet thinks about escaping from it all.” 

“I am a complex person,” Pang states, turning his eyes away from Wave. “I could want it all, you don’t know.” 

Wave does not say: I would come and live with you in the bubble of ignorance if you ever decide to. Or: I could help us escape without a digital footprint in a second. Instead, he says, “Let’s get back to this so you can stop building castles in your fantasies away from all this.” 

“Not castles, Wave,” Pang says with a small smile on his face. “A small apartment for us would suffice, no?” 

2. 

Pang meets Wave’s eyes from across the canteen, his eyes neither blinking in recognition nor in any sort of liveliness as it usually does. Just blank. Always blank, these days. 

It is not that Wave expects Khun Pom’s potential to suddenly weaken in a way that makes Pang remember everything, but he still hopes. He hopes and he wishes in a fervour, losing his mind over the empty eyes that Pang looks at him with. 

“We will get to him,” Namtarn softly says, nudging their elbows together. 

“It is taking him too long,” Wave replies with undisguised impatience, stabbing into his food. 

“Don’t take it out on your food,” she says firmly. “We are going to find a way.” 

“What if we don’t?” Wave asks, surprising himself with the words that fall from him. “What if he never remembers? What if he just never remembers us?” Never remembers me?

“Wave,” Namtarn says, holding his elbow. “He is going to remember everything and everyone that he has forgotten. We are going to make sure of that, remember?” 

“But what if--”

“We will figure it out,” Namtarn says, gently. “Whatever happens, we will.” 

Wave gets less optimistic by the minute. Pang’s memories don’t ever leave him. It consumes him whole; it takes up the very little space he has left to give and takes up some more. 

Wave wonders what Pang would say if he were beside him in almost every situation that Wave finds himself in, his laughter filtering through his mind whenever something remotely funny happens, his warmth holding him tight when he thinks that he might just fall apart at all the blank looks he receives. 

Right now, Pang’s own voice reverberates somewhere behind his ribs, saying, "Do you ever think about running away?" 

Yes, Wave wants to say now. He should've always said yes; should've convinced himself and Pang to run away from it all if it meant having Pang safe. We should have run away when we had the chance all those weeks ago. We should’ve run away all those days in between. 

That thought begins unravelling a lot more than he’d ever signed up for. In the comfort of his room (that looks too empty without Pang’s overwhelming presence), he turns to his paper and pen. 

Pang, he writes, in my imagination, we are living in a small house by the beach. The weather is somehow always pleasant -- not too sticky, not too cold -- just perfect, all for us. We can watch the tidal waves from the long windows that house, I’ve decided. There is no Rithda, no vicious Directors trying to take all of what you fought for from you, all of what you remembered from you, and… and all of what I love from me. I like you a little too much, you know? There is just you and me, our house by the beach beside our friends’ houses, and the world promising a better present laid out for us. Come back to us -- to me -- please.”

Wave stops short at the monstrosity that he has written on the paper in front of him and crumples it in a ball, ready to throw it in the trash. Fantasies of a future that wasn’t for him were dangerous waters he really did not want to sink under. Nothing good ever came out of it. 

3. 

“It is not your fault,” Pang softly says, sitting beside him. 

"How is it not my fault?" Wave asks his voice tethering on something that might resemble a cry if he thinks too hard. "I asked her to go there! I asked her to go. Me. This would not have happened had I not."

"You could not have known," Pang says, sounding more rational than he ever has the right to. "If it's anyone's fault, it is mine."

"How?" Wave asks, edging on incredulity. "How is this your fault?" 

"The anti-gifted was formed because of me, don't you remember?" 

"The anti-gifted was formed because of their ideologies," Wave corrects. "This is not on you."

"Exactly why it's not on you either," Pang replies with a shrug. "It's entirely on the anti-gifted." 

Wave sinks into the uncomfortable chair of the infirmary, unable to look directly at Pang. "I asked her to go, Pang," he says in a voice he doesn't remember as his own. 

"I am the cause of anti-gifted," Pang replies easily, sounding as though he truly believes it. 

"We've been over this."

"Exactly," says Pang. "If I am supposed to stop blaming myself for this and believe in it the way you and everyone has been insisting, then you're not either. Those are the rules."

"Your rules are as stupid as you," Wave counters. Blaming yourself for being the cause of a group that is determined to pull the system down with unnecessary violence is not the same as directing your friend to go to an auditorium while there's a live bomb in it. Wave does not understand how Pang can't comprehend the difference. 

"Do you guys think that everything in this universe happens because of you both, huh?" Mon asks frustrated. Startled, Wave looks at her looming figure above them both, a sharp contrast to her red-rimmed eyes and how pale she looks. "You can be the most considerate people out there and follow all your plans well and yet there are things that you can't control! Like this! We could not have controlled this." 

"We could've --" Pang and Wave both start, before Mon interrupts again. 

"Seriously, guys. Just because you're the leader, Pang, does not mean that we've to agree to everything that you say. If you're blaming yourself for the 'anti-gifted', then you might as well blame all of us because we did agree to it. It was a mutual decision." 

"Exactly," Wave says in half-hearted triumph.

"And Wave, you did what any one of us would've done. Namtarn was the closest to the auditorium," Mon says, choking on her name. "Besides," she adds, resembling someone trying their hardest to keep it together, "it's not going to be that bad. We're going to keep in touch with her. It's not going to be bad at all!" 

"Whatever," Wave says, standing up, knowing full well that Mon is 100% right. "Whatever," he repeats, leaving the infirmary altogether. 

It is when he reaches in his room that his phone screen lights up with a message. Wave ignores it, feeling scrubbed too raw with the long day that they've all had. 

Pang (21:33)

do u ever think about running away? 

Pang (21:37) 

we could run away from this all. i could make them never want to look for us. u could erase our digital footprint. only mom and our friends would know who we are and where we are. we could change our names and delete everything. 

Pang (21:49) 

we could begin again. 

Pang (21:56)

one word from u and the plan is on. we leave tomorrow. 

Wave (23:06)

As if you could order someone to do something without feeling guilty. (As if you could leave this school before doing something about it.)

Pang (23:07) 

i culd if it meant us having a chance to begin again. (it doesnt hurt to imagine, wave.)

Wave (23:07) 

What would our new names be, then? 

Pang (23:08) 

haven't thought that far. all I know is that we'd b together

Wave (23:09) 

Where would we go? 

Pang (23:11) 

anywhere u want. we could leave the country and move into the countryside. we could stay in the country and live by the beach. we could go on the moon, if you'd like. anywhere with u. 

Wave (23:16) 

Anywhere with me? 

Pang (23:16)

anywhere w you. it's all I'd need, really. 

Wave (23:22)

Yeah. That's all I'd need as well. 

Wave (23:23) 

we're going to have to destroy the director first, though. 

Pang (23:24)

duh -_-

4. 

Ohm slams the door shut, leaving a tightly wound silence in the air, leaving Pang, of all people, heavy with defeat.

"When you're done being emotional about all this, call me," Wave says, causing Pang to look away from the door, at him. "I'll be waiting." 

A slow smile creeps on Pang's face. "You're really with me?" 

"Idiot," Wave answers. "How dare you question that?" 

"How can I not?" Pang mumbles. "Don't answer that. And I will call you. I promise. Unless…"

Wave crosses his arms across his chest, sinking deeper into the chair, urging him to go on. "Unless, you want to have dinner together. Right now," Pang continues, looking away. "Only if you want to," he hurriedly adds, "it's okay even if you can't. I mean, I'm sure--"

"Pang."

Pang meets his gaze. 

"I have instant noodles in the pantry. We can make them and go to the rooftop." 

Pang's face loses all of its uncertainty in an instant. "Yeah, okay." 

They make the instant noodles in silence and Wave has this urge to fill it. It had been way too long since they'd seen each other and although there's familiarity in Pang's presence, he doesn't know what's allowed anymore. Their hands brush against each other when they try grabbing the Tupperware at the same time and jump away from each other as though scorned. 

"Sorry," Pang awkwardly chuckles. "I just. Uh. Yeah."

"It's okay," Wave replies, moving towards him. "Just carry the Tupperware and I'll carry the drinks and the mats, okay?"   

The rooftop has always held a sense of permanence that Wave has never before attached to a place. It would only make sense then, for Wave to make it accessible for him even at night. Wave taps on a switch effectively turning on the LED light strips attached to every nook and cranny of the walls. Wave watches Pang -- completely transfixed with the way the rooftop is now enveloped with a soft-golden glow.

"You really did all this?" Pang asks in wonderment. 

"Obviously," Wave answers, "How did you think we'd be able to see our food, Pang?" 

Pang sheepishly holds out his phone. "The torch, I'd assumed." 

"Idiot," Wave mutters. 

Pang moves to bump their shoulders together. "You love me anyway." 

Wave does not acquiesce that with a reply, focusing entirely on setting the boxes as a makeshift table and placing their Tupperwares on it. "Eat," he says, shoving the chopsticks in Pang's hands and opening both their Tupperwares. 

"Give me your phone," Pang replies. 

"Why?" Wave asks, handing him the phone. He watches Pang tinker with his phone before soft, lulling music fills the atmosphere. 

"What's this for?" Wave asks, focusing entirely on his food and not on how this looks like -- a dinner with someone he likes akin to a candle light dinner with sombre music playing in the background. 

Pang looks at him with a tiny, indignant smile. "I'm here, at my favourite place with my favourite person, after days, Wave. Let me have this." 

Wave huffs, adjusting his jacket draped over his shoulders. "Alright, weirdo." 

Pang shakes his head, finally turning towards his Tupperware. The music fills in the gaps in their conversation and it's so pleasant, that Wave could almost forget about the impending doom that lies beyond them. 

They shift to lie side-by-side on their mat, a while after dinner. Their elbows brush against each other as they stare at the stars above them. 

"Do you ever think about running away?" Wave whispers, the wind around then picking up pace. 

"All the time," Pang says. "But I can't, now. We can't. We're too close to changing it all, Wave."

"I know," Wave replies. "But it doesn't hurt to imagine now, does it?"

Wave feels the pressure of Pang's gaze on him and determinedly does not look back. "It doesn't," Pang replies, shuffling to his side, his head resting on the fold of his elbow. 

"So," Wave says, "imagine this with me."

"A home on the outskirts of the city," Pang replies. 

"Like an apartment?" Wave asks, turning to his side as well. 

"No," says Pang. "A house. A home. We go to the university nearby. The Director feels like a faraway nightmare we barely remember."

"How are we affording an entire house on a student budget?" 

"Shhh. This is just a fantasy, Wave," Pang says, moving to ruffle his hair. Wave swats at his hand before reaching over to pull his hair, reveling in the delighted shriek he lets out. 

"Evil. Wave is so evil."

"Shut up. Tell me more about this. Are we still Pang and Wave?" 

"Always. We don't need to hide here. We're safe."

"We're safe," Wave smiles. "Seems unbelievable, huh?"

"We are going to win," Pang says, a shift in his tone apparent. "You know that, right?" 

Wave sighs, turning to lie on his back again. "We're going to give our best."

"And we're going to win," Pang says.

"Another one of your fantasies?" Wave asks. 

"No," Pang replies softly. "In my imagination, we're away from this all, Wave. We're safe and happy and… ah, nevermind. We probably volunteer in an animal shelter on Saturdays. Have movie nights every Sundays. Have one of those chore lists stuck on our fridge." 

"I scold you for leaving the kitchen cabinets open all the time and leaving your socks everywhere."

"And I scold you for taking all my things and putting them away."

"You probably just made a mess of our living room, Pang."

"It has to look lived in," Pang insists. 

"Lived in, not like a garbage dump."

"Garbage dump my ass," Pang says, chuckling. "Then, I bring you the strawberry ice-cream that you pretend to hate as an apology."

"And I let you choose the movie," Wave replies, his heart suddenly full of the possibilities of how it would be like to live together, attend a university together, have a future mapped out around each other. 

"There we go," Pang says, threading his fingers through Wave's hair. "What a perfect world to live in."

Wave looks at Pang, the love of his entire life, and sighs wistfully. "Perfect, indeed."

+1. 

"I would've never pegged you as the last minute packing kind of person," Pang remarks, zipping open Wave's bag that lies haphazardly on the floor. 

"I was busy, okay?" Wave sniffs at Pang slowly shaking his head in his direction. 

They had all been busy, after all. The high of their victory didn't fade away with the conclusion of their exams, strengthening with every moment that convulates since that day. It was Punn's idea in the end, to take his dad's private jet to Phuket and to spend a month there at his beach house, until they've to come back and face the reality of university admissions. 

"We were all busy," Pang says, shoving his clothes in that bag. "And yet, Ohm managed to pack, and you didn't." 

"If you want to complain so much, then don't help me," Wave mutters, not even bothering to fold his clothes properly. They were to leave in three hours and half of Wave's room was still nearly arranged in place. 

"Kidding, kidding," Pang concedes, laughing. Wave tries not to dwell on how carefree Pang's laughter seems now and fails, miserably. 

Out of all the people in the world who deserved to be happy, Pang was the most deserving, after all. Wave would do everything in his power to keep him smiling just the way he does.

"I'll clear the bookshelf for you as well?" Pang asks, dusting his pants off. 

"Obviously," Wave answers, turning away, knowing that he'd only end up getting more distracted than ever if he kept looking at Pang. "Just shove them in that bag," Wave points and gets back to his clothes.  

"Yes, sir," Pang replies, doing just that. 

It's silent for a few minutes before a thud, a yelp, and a sharp intake of breath. 

"Are you okay?" Wave asks, after a minute of silence, still not turning towards Pang. 

"Yeah," comes Pang's high-pitched reply, before he clears his throat. "Just fine, but, uh… you want to live by the sea?" 

Wave's heart touches his feet. 

"You imagine us… living together?" 

Wave is frozen on the spot, the embarrassment turning his insides into hot ash. He should have thrown that letter away all those years ago; should've thrown it and burnt it until all that remained of it were the permanent ink stains crushing his heart. Except...he couldn't. Like all things related to Pang, he couldn't just throw this away. Hiding it in a book he rarely touched was, in retrospect a bad idea, was something that he could have avoided. 

He hears some shuffling until Wave's chin is lifted by Pang, his eyes full of something akin to unabashed hope. 

"Let it go, Pang," Wave says, trying to snatch the crumpled paper from his hands. "It was from two years ago." 

All the mirth from Pang's face vanishes in an instant. "Oh. Oh, okay," he whispers, something broken -- Wave, a little too frantic to notice that. 

What can Wave even say to explain himself? That he started building a future only after meeting Pang? That Pang, without fail, painted the walls of his imagination with his presence? That Pang was in every single one of the new beginnings he thought of?

"I'm sorry," Wave whispers. "You don't have to…you don't have to think about this. Or reply to this. Or anything. I value you above all and I don't care if this doesn't…mean a thing to you."

Pang continues tightly clutching onto the note. "This is addressed to me," Pang says. "Can I keep it then?" 

Wave meets Pang's eyes. "It was when you couldn't remember us," Wave explains. 

"I got that," Pang replies, his eyes lighting up again. 

"It was when you couldn't...remember me."

"I got that too," Pang replies easily. 

How much more obvious does he have to be before Pang finally gets that? 

"I like you," Wave grits out. "That is what you don't get." 

Pang takes a step towards him, Wave following suit. "I always felt a part of me missing, when I couldn't remember you," Pang says. "I think, subconsciously, my eyes always looked for yours." 

Wave is rarely ever rendered speechless. This just prompts Pang further. He takes a step forward and weaves their fingers together. "I think my eyes will always look for yours -- in crowds and empty spaces. You're the first person I think of when I wake up in the morning. I want to tell you everything and anything that crosses my mind. Do you get it?" 

"What?" Wave whispers, trying to wrap his head around the reality of it all. 

Pang leans forward to press their foreheads together, bringing their interwoven hand to his chest. "I like you too," Pang says. "I like you so much, Wave. I don't see a future for myself without you in it. In my imagination, we were always away from all this, but we were also always together."

All breath seems to have been stolen out of Wave's lungs. "You...like me?" Wave asks. 

"I like you," Pang affirms, dropping his hand and wrapping it around his waist. 

Wave leans into him, resting his head in the crook of Pang's neck, tightening his hands around him. "You like me," Wave repeats. "I like you too. I like you so much."

Pang moves his head to kiss Wave's temple. 

"Do you ever think about beginning anew?" Wave asks. 

Wave feels Pang nod. "A small house, 10 minutes from the university that we have enrolled in." 

("Well, it's 15 by foot," will say Wave, three months from now. "But I think it's good enough.")

"We live there for a year or two before moving to a bigger one." 

("We were supposed to live here for a year, at least," Pang will say, a year from now. 

"But that one is bigger," Wave will insist. "And better. You can't deny that. The faucet doesn't drip all night long despite multiple repairs there." 

"Alright," Pang will concede, kissing the top of Wave's head. "I agree.") 

"We'll figure things out," Pang says, "one day at a time."

"But, together," Wave adds. 

Pang holds him closer. "Always together."

[roselen-mylady]

In Another Life

Bucky Barnes x reader ° part six

Summary: Waiting 88 years to find your soulmate? It was cruel. But it was a cruel fate Bucky would have to face whether he accepted it or not. Bucky was a tortured man all his life and he wasn't even granted the solace of having his soulmate at his side. All he had was the promise of one in another life. They were separated by two different times.

But the pain in their lives were connected.

Y/n had been alone ever since she could remember. All she could depend on was the soulmate that was destined to be at her side. Yet when the snap occured she lost him.

And Bucky never got to meet her.

2014

"What was it like meeting Fury?" 

Maria glanced up from her paperwork, piecing together what Y/n had meant by the simple question. Like many children her age, Y/n was curious about meeting her soulmate and what it might feel like. Maria was once like Y/n and she smiled kindly, setting down the papers. 

"Did he tell you?" Her unspoken question was easily understood by the young girl and Y/n shook her head, looking back down at her own papers. The blueprints of the Helicarriers had finally been granted to her and she found it made it easier to operate when she was able to get a better look at the inside without walking the length of the giant machinery. 

"I figured it out on my own. But then again, he didn't try too hard to deny it." Y/n shrugged. Maria's smile lingered as she nodded absentmindedly. 

"Nick has always been a smart man. He must've known trying to lie to you would be a difficult feat." She replied, earning a proud giggle from the young girl. 

"Well, that's one way to look at it. I think he's just pissy that I owned his ass in training last week." Y/n smirked, stealing a glance at Maria as the woman laughed. "How did you feel, knowing that the most paranoid and dangerous man on the planet was your soulmate?" 

Maria thought over Y/n's question this time, knowing that getting her to dismiss it would be pointless and impossible. It was a question Maria never had to answer before. No one had ever asked her how it felt to be Fury's soulmate because nobody really knew. Fury couldn't risk someone coming after her because of it and she quickly found that it went both ways. They protected each other and slowly built a bond that went deeper than being partners. They were companions and on the rare chance that Fury decided to open up, it was always to her. 

"I felt like I had known him forever. It was like meeting an old friend and it felt familiar and safe." Maria answered carefully. "Of course, it took some time to gain his trust but then again he didn't exactly have mine either. Once there was trust, we were each other's greatest allies and have been ever since." 

Y/n listened intently with a childish amazement. Though Maria's explanation wasn't exactly romantic, Y/n had grown up listening to the fairy tale of her parents' meeting and she couldn't help but imagine a happy ending like in the stories. 

The mere thought of having that with someone brought a stupid grin to her face and she let herself fall into the fantasy of meeting him. What if he was one of the older boys at her old high school? They were funny, handsome and always kind to her despite her age. Would they have a cliche reunion when they were older like in the movies? 

Or was he someone she had never met before? Was he thinking about her? Did he wish just as badly to meet her? Would he hold her and kiss her as passionately as the guys on TV did? Her poor 15 year old cheeks flushed at the idea and Maria laughed quietly as she watched Y/n get lost in her thoughts. 

"I can't wait to have that with someone." Y/n confessed, wanting desperately to have someone to share her life with. She already wanted to tell him everything but she still had at least three years before getting her countdown and however long after that to wait. Waiting was never something she enjoyed but for him she decided it couldn't be too bad. 

"You will. You just have to be patient." Maria told her. Y/n nodded silently, glancing back at her papers as her mind drifted back to her plans for the Helicarriers. 

He'd be worth the wait. 

•••

1992

"Sir." A younger agent called, catching the attention of the older man. "His countdown…" 

Bucky sat before them, expressionless in his chair as the aftermath of the wiping buzzed through every nerve in his brain. His chest heaved in steady yet painful breaths, his dark locks clinging to his forehead as sweat drenched him and his uniform. 

The older man watched him with a stony gaze, his focus never tearing away from the broken assassin. "What of it?" He replied, agitated as the younger agent fidgeted beside him. Bucky's condition didn't sit as well with him as it had with the others. His young mind still clung to what was right and what was wrong, untainted by the concept of loyalty and duty. He pitied the Soldier and whoever he was destined to. 

"What are you going to do about his soulmate?" The young man asked cautiously. He feared the backlash of his words but he couldn't stop them from coming out. No one seemed to have the Soldier's interests at heart and while he knew that was the point of brainwashing him, the young agent believed there was still a part of the Soldier left. One that craved his soulmate like everyone else. 

"He will handle it like every other threat. His soulmate has no place in this world or with him and will be dealt with accordingly." The older man answered without missing a beat. There was no remorse in his voice, sending a sick feeling to the younger agent's stomach. 

Bucky hadn't even moved at the mention of his soulmate, his freshly erased mind unable to recognize just how important the discussion was. It was unable to comprehend that he was going to be the death of his own soulmate, let alone object to it. All he could do was obey. 

The agent's eyes fell from the Soldier, repenting his choice to join HYDRA. They spoke of the future and creating a world willing to give up their freedom for safety but this wasn't right. The tortured man before him was enough proof to show HYDRA was no longer standing for any cause. They just wanted the world to burn. 

And they fully intended to make Bucky light the match. 

•••

Y/n hated how terribly familiar it felt, standing there in the compound while the man she had come to know as Scott rambled on about the Quantum Realm. It reminded her of being an agent, the youngest person in the room but still the brightest. The way she would lay out mission plans and listen to Fury explain them the very next day to the other agents. She was a good agent, a hero, Fury had once told her. But that was behind her. She couldn't go back to fighting for the greater good. 

She wasn't built for it. 

The Quantum Realm was always a topic that piqued her interest. The bizarre nature of the other realm was complex but she felt an obligation to understand it the best she could. Her incisive mind would never rest without something to contemplate and whenever she felt herself growing bored she'd come back to the science around the Quantum Realm. There was so much about it that they still didn't know which meant it's possibilities were as infinite as the realm itself. 

But what Scott was talking about was just unbelievable. 

Stuck in the Quantum Realm for five years? Trapped in a void of infinite time and space for all that time without any way to tell exactly how much time has passed, she wondered how he didn't go mad. His later explanation of five years only feeling like a short span of five hours, cleared up her most pressing question but she still had a million more to take its place. 

How did he get to the Quantum Realm? How'd he get stuck? How did he navigate himself out? Why did he only get out now? How did he find them? 

Her mind was buzzing with so many unknowns. But she could hardly hear her own thoughts as one voice screamed from her subconscious.  

Run. 

"I really don't think I should be here." Y/n mumbled, starting to step away from the three. Her doubt and fear began to overpower any curiosity she had about the Quantum Realm and she fought the urge to just leave without an explanation. She owed Steve an explanation. He trusted her enough to have her there and she couldn't even explain why she couldn't stay. Why anything involving heroes filled her with such guilt and terror that she avoided it at all costs. Until she met him. 

The group's focus shifted to her as she backtracked, hesitantly trying to make her escape before it was too late. Yet all hopes of leaving quickly diminished as Steve called her name, his desperation clearer than the windows around them. 

"Please. You can help us." He pleaded. Nat reached out to reason with him but he stayed firm in his request. His eyes were fixated on Y/n and she struggled to remain unwavering. 

"How, Steve? I'm not like you guys. I'm not an Avenger." Y/n told him. The sentence soured in her mouth but she was insistent, hoping maybe if they believed it she would too. Nat stared at her with an unreadable expression making the frantic beating of Y/n's heart only double. 

Y/n was a good liar. A trait she supposed came with her intelligence. Fury found this trait as a skill he could use, morph to make her into a better agent. But as she stared at Steve and Nat she couldn't help the disappointed frown that had formed. Lying to them was all she had done. And once they found out, she would lose them. 

Steve's eyes fell to the floor, considering Y/n's argument with a grave expression. He wanted to respect her wishes and let her go. She had a normal life and ever since he entered it, there was a feeling of guilt that hovered over him like a dark cloud. The thought of anything happening to her because of him was crushing but he couldn't bring himself to leave her.  

Y/n represented the only piece of normal he had left. For 80 he was treated as a symbol, an idol for people to look up to and while for years that what he had wanted and accepted was his life, he still craved the normal life he never got. A life with his soulmate where he wasn't Captain America, where he had a normal home and normal friends. 

Y/n was normal to him even if she was strangely smart at times or she seemed to be hiding a loss in her past that he never got close enough to ask about. Despite her secrets she gave him normalcy and all of the questions he had for her faded away. Even her hesitance toward their friendship was forgotten because she was kind and he never felt the anger of his failure from her. With her he could forget it all, and go back to a time things were better, a time he once lived with Bucky.

He just couldn't let her walk out the door, especially with Scott there. His presence meant there was a change in the air and for the first time in 5 years, he was hopeful. There might actually be a way to undo what Thanos had done and he wanted Y/n there every step of the way. To keep him grounded. 

"You are to me." Steve confessed, his soft frown silently begging her to stay. 

Y/n watched his eyes search hers, looking for any tell that might give him his answer. She desperately wanted to say no. Run away like she had been all this time and forever regret getting so close to a hero when she had promised herself to never go back. 

But all that came to mind was a smaller but more compelling thought. She was a coward. The once correct decision she believed she had committed by leaving her past behind her wasn't protecting those around her. She was fearful and senseless and by running away she wasn't saving anyone but herself. 

In that moment, whether she stayed or not was her chance to do something with herself. The same dream she had as a child of being something more was still there, unrelenting in the back of her mind and this time she wouldn't let failure ruin her. She had felt the loss of everyone she'd ever cared about and by joining Steve she ran the risk of it again. But she wouldn't. Not this time. 

"Okay. I'll help however I can." Y/n offered a small smile, trying to force away the worry that sprouted in her heart. For years her work with helping those after the snap had satisfied her need to put her skills to good use but now she could do more. Like Fury had wanted her to. 

"Wait, what's your power? I get really small, I mean, obviously, Ant-Man. And sometimes I can get big too but I try not to anymore." Scott ranted, the excitement obvious in his wide eyes and rapid words. Y/n gave Scott a lasting stare, a little thrown off by his polar attitude towards the emotional moment. 

"I read minds." She joked, hoping he'd catch on to her sarcasm. But the poor man was too thrilled with her supposed superpower to realize he'd been fooled. 

"Whoa, that's so cool. What am I thinking?" He asked almost instantly, childlike in his manner as he stared at her intently. Her face deadpanned, sending a quizzical look to Steve and Nat. This was the man they were listening to? Steve shrugged in return before both their gazes fell back on Scott. 

"You're thinking about eating that sandwich." Y/n answered finally, a glimpse of disbelief flashing across his features. It didn't exactly take a mind reader to know, she had noticed him staring at it since he entered the room. But that didn't occur to him and no one wasted any more time explaining it to him as he stole half the sandwich. 

"Scott, what were you talking about?" Steve sighed, dragging Scott's distracted mind back to his plan. The frenzied man swallowed thickly, forcing his words through the peanut butter that stuck before starting to pace. 

"What I'm saying is, time works differently in the Quantum Realm. The only problem is right now, we don't have a way to navigate it. But what if we did? I can't stop thinking about it. What if we could somehow control the chaos and we could navigate it? What if there was a way to enter the Quantum Realm at a certain point in time but then exit at another point in time? Like-like before Thanos." Scott described. 

"Wait, are you talking about a time machine?" Steve questioned in disbelief. Y/n looked to Nat, the slight flick of her eyes conveying her skepticism. Scott stopped pausing to shake his head with a scoff, offended that his masterful plan had been compared to the object of most fictional media. 

"No. No, of course not. No, not a time machine. It's more like a…" Uncertain, his voice trailed off. "Yeah, a time machine. I know it's crazy." Scott admitted, unable to find another word for his idea. Y/n shook her head, stepping forward. 

"Yeah, you're right it's insane." She agreed. Steve's brow furrowed and he crossed his arms turning to her. 

"What do you know about this?" He inquired, wondering if his request for her to stay had been justified. Y/n bit her tongue, unsure how much to tell him. She'd have to find a way to explain how helpful she could be without dredging up her past. 

With a short sigh, she ran a forceful hand through her hair, grateful when her fingers didn't snag. What they were talking about was impossible. Sure there were theories on uses of the Quantum Realm, many of which she researched yet none were proven. The sheer fact that it was so outlandish was one of the reasons that had steered her in it's direction. 

"In college I went to practically every science related class I could. This scientist, Bill Foster, came to my college and did a short class on it for like a month. I thought it was cool so I kept coming back but this isn't an exact science, the Quantum Realm is infinite in time and space." Her excuse was vague, vague enough to not get any more questions. 

Once during her years at college she would stay up countless nights letting her mind run rampant about the topic. It was fun to see if she could figure out a way to use the Quantum Realm like Scott talked about it, but the main reason it was fun was because she never expected to actually have to make a working theory. 

"Hey, I met that guy." Scott announced, rather amused as Y/n gave him an exasperated look. 

"Then you should know that finding a certain point in time is the equivalent of finding a needle in a haystack but the haystack is infinite and time means nothing." It was frustrating not being able to be of more help since she was in fact a genius but the science was too unreliable, practically everything was just hypothetical. 

"So, can you find a magnet?" Steve asked. Y/n looked to him recognizing the desperation in his eyes. The simple action made her heart clench in her chest. Steve had a way of making those around him share his passion toward anything and she hated how easily she fell victim. It was impossible not to get wrapped up in the righteousness of things especially when her best friend was the face of America. 

It was his passion that had kept her around him, unable to distance herself like she had from so many others. Something in Steve was reassuring and she never feared losing him to anything but her secrets, but that was easy, right? She could keep a secret. 

Y/n rubbed her arm, briefly catching sight of her countdown. The numbers sent a chill through her and she froze for a moment, her eyes calm and calculated as she thought over the situation. 

An interesting idea came to mind looking down at the numbers on her wrist. Was this what her countdown was leading her to? A time machine? It made sense since her countdown had been just as curious as the Quantum Realm itself. Did her countdown mean time travel was real? 

She tugged down her sleeve, not catching Steve's eyes peering down at it, trying to catch a glimpse but to no avail. 

"I might be able to get you started but it'd take a genius to even know where to go from there." Y/n offered, unaware of Nat's narrowing eyes. Steve turned his gaze to the floor, a certain man coming to mind. There was a slim chance he might help. The guilt Steve felt was the same in Tony and it might be enough to get him to join their crazy mission. 

"I can't stop thinking about it. There's gotta be some way... There's gotta be...some w... it's crazy." Scott mumbled. Y/n crossed her arms looking over at Steve. She remembered a time when even being friends with him was crazy to her but she quickly grew used to the feeling. But now she was questioning everything. 

In what world would she ever run back to her past. In what world would she set aside her fear to help the Avengers, a team she was once groomed to replace. In what world could she forget about her mistakes and help revive the world if their plan worked. 

"I get emails from a raccoon, so nothing sounds crazy anymore." Nat let out a sigh, annoyed by her own mention of said raccoon. Y/n's head unconsciously whipped around to her, confusion creasing through her brow. 

Maybe in a world where raccoons talk?  

"So who do we talk to about this?" Scott questioned, shifting his stare between the three. Nat and Steve shared a look knowing who they'd have to visit and that he'd probably not be too easy to persuade.

Y/n stared dazed at Nat, only deciding to speak up when it became apparent that Nat wouldn't explain further. "Wait, a raccoon?"

•••

A song Y/n didn't recognize hummed in the background, just audible over the rough sound of the road. 

Reluctantly Y/n had gone with Steve and the others to Fairburn, Georgia, heading somewhere she hadn't thought to ask. Now she drove a rental car a couple car links behind Nat as she led them outside the city. 

Steve hadn't said a word the entire ride, instead shifting silently in his seat. His mind was too jumbled with the time machine and his best friend's sudden knowledge in the Quantum Realm to really make any type of conversation. All the secrets he knew she'd been hiding were beginning to weigh on him and he didn't know if he could afford to allow her to keep them any longer. If it meant bringing back half the population, so many of his friends included, was he prepared to out her? 

Deciding the silence was too much to bare, Y/n spoke what had been on her mind. "Is it him again?" 

Her eyes were fixated on the road and she intended to keep them there, in fear that looking at Steve might break her resolve. She was going to get answers. 

"Who?" Steve asked, wondering if somehow she had figured out where they were going. 

"Bucky." She answered, catching him off guard.

It was no secret, Y/n's subtle resentment. A lot of people still held onto the acts of the Winter Soldier and while Steve couldn't blame them, he also couldn't blame Bucky. It was a horrible thing done to him but for the life of him, Bucky couldn't seem to receive forgiveness. 

But what had surprised Steve was the way his name sounded from her mouth. It was bitter but so defeated as if her anger tired her. He wondered why she would mention him at all if that were the case. 

"How did you forgive him? For all the lives he took, for all the people he hurt?" 

There it was. The reason. The question he'd hope to never be asked by her. It meant she hadn't forgiven him. It meant that she wouldn't. 

"What do you mean?" Steve questioned, almost in denial of what she had said. 

It had been years since he had tried to prove his best friend's innocence to someone and it hurt that he had to do it now with someone who had become as dear to him as Bucky. "He wasn't himself, Y/n. You know that." 

"How wasn't he himself?" She pressed as gently as she felt she could manage. She couldn't risk making Steve close further into himself but she wanted to know, more than anything in the world. 

"How could he have not made the conscious choice to be a killer?" She asked. 70 years was a long time, but not long enough to become a completely different person. There was more to it. That secret being kept from her. 

"The Winter Soldier wasn't him." Steve pleaded. 

Y/n paused. He was holding onto that delusion by a thread and she was on the verge of snapping it. 

Guilt flooded her and she bit her cheek, not daring to speak another word. It wasn't fair to demand answers from him. She knew that. But she couldn't do it anymore. 

She was way past asking for an apology, all she asked for was closure. She'd accepted her own role in her misfortune, realizing that she played a part within it. She accepted the guilt that came with it, accepted that it was because of her ambitions that she was left with this trauma. 

All she wanted to know was why he had done it. Why would he mindlessly try to kill a 15 year old and then claim that wasn't him in the next moment? And the only man that could truly tell her what he was thinking while choking the life from her was gone. 

"I'm sorry, Steve." She spoke quietly, trying to force the quiver from her voice. "It's just, I never knew the Bucky you remember." 

Steve didn't reply. It was like he was trying to protect the truth. Protect it for himself or for Bucky's memory, she couldn't tell but she knew she hadn't yet earned the truth from him. Not unless he knew hers. 

"The first I ever heard of him was when I was fifteen. I was living in Washington when he killed a man in the street." She told him, leaving out the part where the Winter Soldier then turned his attack toward her. "I was nearby that day, I saw him blow up that man's SUV." 

Steve was stunned by what she told him. She had never told him that she'd actually seen the Winter Soldier. Never revealed that her resentment came from a personal place. 

"The Winter Soldier hurt people, he destroyed lives. I saw him do that, you can't just tell me it wasn't him." Y/n swallowed thickly. It was difficult to hide her stinging eyes, eyes that wanted so badly to cry from frustration. 

For years she had listened to his stories. And yet he kept the most important one from her. 

Steve knew she was right. Bucky's full story was never released to the public. There was no way she knew anything other than what she'd seen and the horrible things the media remembered him for. 

Nobody would ever hear his story and come to forgive him. He was gone and his truth had been buried with him. 

But here Y/n was, pleading to hear that very story. She was desperate to move on and while Steve didn't completely understand why, he wondered if maybe this was his chance to make amends on Bucky's behalf. To ease Y/n's obvious pain just a little. 

"In 1945 Bucky was taken by HYDRA after I left him for dead. It's my fault that they got him. I couldn't save him." Steve's regret bubbled rapidly up his throat. 

Y/n listened silently, surprised yet grateful that he'd spoken.

She listened as he explained what HYDRA called the Winter Soldier project. He told her in detail how they'd use him to carry out political assassinations against his will and Cryo-Freeze him away for years whenever they were done with him. 

All of this she knew from her own research. What she hadn't known, however, was perhaps the most disturbing part of the tale. The answer to the question she'd been asking for years. 

How had such a kind man like James Barnes become a ruthless killer? 

"The Bucky I knew would never do those things willingly. I knew-" Steve's voice cracked as he tried to get out the hardest part of a story he hated telling. He hated even thinking about what they'd done to his friend and coming to terms with it seemed like something he'd never accomplished. 

"I knew they had to have done something terrible to him to make that happen. And I was right." Steve frowned. 

Y/n held her breath as his next words came, unsure if she could handle what she would hear. Once he told her, she would have to make a choice, a choice she feared she might not be able to make. 

Would she forgive, putting all the blame onto her own mistakes? Or would she hold onto her resentment, allowing the Winter soldier to continue to serve as a scapegoat for the day that ruined her life? 

Unfortunately, the choice was made for her. 

"For 70 years they brainwashed him using this memory suppressing machine. I saw it, Y/n. In Serbia, where they kept him. It was a chair in a dark room that they strap him into and use to erase who he was." Steve confessed, releasing the truth Y/n had been so adamant about hearing. 

Now she wished she hadn't. 

Ignorance was bliss, right? 

"They used electroshock. Not only did it erase all of his memories from before he was the Winter Soldier, it literally damaged his brain. He couldn't make a single choice for himself, couldn't object or fight back." Steve bit his lip, turning to face his friend. "Y/n, you have to believe me when I tell you, the Bucky I know would've rather died than do the things he was forced to." 

Y/n froze, her gaze falling on his pleading expression only for a moment. It was all she could bear. 

She felt sick, trying to process what he told her. 

So that's why Steve was firm in his belief that James Barnes wasn't the Winter Soldier. 

Mentally he wasn't. 

"Brainwashing?" The word rolled off her tongue with a sting. All this time she'd resented a brainwashed man, a man who physically couldn't make decisions of his own. He never had any motive to hurt her, he merely did what he was told. 

Guilt rose in her throat and she gagged feeling bile rise along with it. 

Everything she'd ever convinced herself crumbled around her, the only thing left standing being her pity for James Barnes. For years she pitied him. Pitied the man that had fallen so far from the symbol of altruism to a heartless assassin. 

Now she pitied him for so many reasons she couldn't begin to list them. In fact it wasn't even pity anymore. Now it was simply sorrow. She mourned the man that had disappeared just when he was beginning to take control over his life again.  

It was hard to convince herself that the Winter Soldier still warranted that hatred she wanted so desperately to direct away from herself. Maybe that was why Steve thought of them as separate people.  

She couldn't resent James Barnes. 

But the man he was once forced to be still terrified her. 

The knot in her stomach tightened but she kept her face neutral as they turned off the busy road, driving off in a more vacant area. Trees were beginning to spot around them and Y/n tried to focus on admiring them rather than the sickening tale Steve had told her.  

While the man she feared had been brainwashed into doing the horrible things he did, she had ruined her life with the promise of making things better. She had a choice while he hadn't. Was she the monster? 

•••

Part seven

Taglist

@cancanmarvel

@jessyballet

@eldahae

@mc225g

@kissesofdeadforme

@wantingtobekorra

@sxphiiwrld

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

((Just under 2k of grieving Dad!Wangji))

(Part 1) (Part 2)

———

Demon Subdue Palace.

Wangji can't help but feel his features soften as he looks up at the cracked and weather-worn characters carved into the stone above the door. His Wei Ying had so proudly told him the joke behind his continuing to call it such, but even then - and especially now - the words clawed at Wangji's heart. The idea that anyone would think of Wei Ying as a demon is...painful. The fact that they did so, and Wei Ying knew they did so, simply because he'd dared to help innocent people whose survival didn't benefit the shifting politics after the Sunshot Campaign is nearly unbearable.

And he knows he played a part in it.

Wangji takes a deep breath in to steady himself before stepping forward, placing one foot slowly in front of the other until he's inside. He stops again once he's out of the wind and he lets his eyes adjust to the dimmer lighting inside. Everything is as he last saw it, only perhaps with a thicker coating of the ever-present dust that pervades the air now that the Wen remnants no longer tills the field to try to grow their turnips in the harsh soil.

He starts wandering through it slowly, dragging his fingertips along the surfaces of tables and along the foot of Wei Ying's bed, the grass mat covering the stone perhaps a bit moth-eaten and in desperate need of a cleaning but still mostly sound, and precisely how he'd left it. Everything is where it had been left, no animals would ever come this far into the Burial Mounds to search for the remains of any food.

Further inside, Wei Ying's work area is full of half-finished inventions and scraps of paper with half-drawn talismans. More talismans litter the floor and Wangji looks at them for a moment before sinking to his knees in the midst of them. He allows himself precisely five breaths to mourn, and then he settles in with his guqin.

‘Wei Ying?’

‘Wei Ying?’

‘Wei Ying?’

The strings stay silent, but that doesn't stop Wangji from feeling Wei Ying's presence everywhere around him. He knows it's not really him, but he can't ever be immune to the ache of seeing the last place Wei Ying had left the marks of his daily life, seeing the touch of his hand in every possible place, the evidence of his presence in all the untidy incidentals of a man who lived alone with nobody to impress.

Once he would've been irritated by the evidences of Wei Ying's carelessness with the parts of his life he deemed unimportant, but now? Wangji feels tears spring to his eyes to see the rocks holding down haphazard stacks of papers, the used bowls scattered over a different table clear of inventions, the beginnings of a wooden toy being carved.

The toy gives him pause and after a moment Wangji reaches out to touch it, lifting it after a moment's debate with reverent hands. It fits snugly into his palm and as he turns it he can see the early shapes of a rounded back and long ears laid back over it, a little tufted tail at the other end...He has to stop and tip his head back to breathe.

Wei Ying was carving a rabbit toy for A-Yuan, and Wangji can't breathe. He gently sets the rabbit down again where he'd found it and he stands after storing his guqin back in the pouch in his sleeve. He means to leave, but the sight of Wei Ying's bed captures his attention and he can't help but wander towards it. He brushes a reverent hand along the worn woven grass, feels the sharp ends of loose straw beneath it that can't quite be softened by the thin mat, both weak attempts to soften the stone slab underneath. The bundle of straw he used as a pillow is still in its place, though now full of dust. The plants hanging haphazardly from the ceiling have grown over the last few years and now wind along the floor and down the walls and Wangji is irrationally angry that they have had a chance to thrive while Wei Ying went to his death.

He sits down on the edge of the bed and after a moment he lays down slowly, stretching himself out on the structure and closing his eyes as he rests on the straw, his hands folded on his chest and Bichen at his side. He breathes slowly and listens to the wind howling through the barren trees outside, the sound dimmed and softened by the stone around him.

After an indeterminate amount of time he opens his eyes again and is surprised to find that the ceiling has gone dark above him, the sun having set behind the mountain. Outside the door the world is bathed in soft lavender twilight and Wangji waves towards the candles piled up in the crevices in the rocks around him to light them all with a flicker of energy, and the light suffuses the room with a warm glow.

It strangely feels less empty like this with the soft firelight and Wangji lies there a while longer, in no hurry to move onto the next disappointment in his search for the man he loves.

As tempting as it is to stay there forever in the hopes that Wei Ying will come back to him, he knows it's not feasible. Fist of all, he's relatively confident that only someone as incredible as Wei Ying could be the one to make the Burial Mounds livable. Second of all, he's already been gone for too long, and coming here was his last-ditch effort for this round. He's been chasing rumors and rumors of rumors for two months now, and he's still no closer to an answer than when he'd begun.

He misses his son. He misses the feeling of A-Yuan in his lap while he plays his guqin or, occasionally, while they eat dinner together. He misses singing to him and holding his hand while they walk down to the field in the back hill full of the rabbits that Wangji will always think of his and Wei Ying's. He wants to go home, he just wishes that he could do so with Wei Ying in tow.

He looks around the cave once more and then stands to head further inside, his footsteps still slow and easy as he looks around at the life Wei Ying left behind. There's not much to it and it certainly couldn't have been comfortable, but Wangji knows that had he been given the option, Wei Ying would've lived like this for the rest of his life if it meant he was going to get to keep the remaining members of the Wen Sect safe and as happy as they could be under the circumstances.

He wanders until the ghosts of his memories are too much to handle and then he retires, and as always he dreams of Wei Ying.

———

"Father!"

Wangji can't help but smile softly as A-Yuan throws himself into his arms, all thoughts of manners forgotten. The Elders watching and educating the children in the Children's Hall are clearly disapproving of the allowance of his poor behavior, but Wangji can't think of a reason to correct him. His son is happy to see him and is responding as children do, there's nothing wrong with that. He glares at them as he holds A-Yuan close and he's relieved when they break first, looking away and returning their attention to the other children to let him greet his son in peace.

"Missed you," he says quietly once he's knelt down to A-Yuan's height and he's rewarded with a beaming smile and a tight hug around his neck.

"Missed you too, father," A-Yuan mumbles and Wangji holds him a little more tightly.

Returning home is bittersweet without Wei Ying, but he knows he won't leave again for a while. Being away from A-Yuan was too difficult, and traveling alone in search of Wei Ying too heartbreaking. He needed a rest, he needed to be home.

"No more lessons today," he says decisively as he scoops A-Yuan into his arms and bows to the Elders watching the children. They know better than to argue, and Wangji stays only long enough for A-Yuan to wave goodbye to little Lan Jingyi and then he's whisking his son out the door and through the expanded complex of buildings out towards the back hill.

A-Yuan is still holding onto him and Wangji can feel his fists curling into his hair and he relaxes - as loathe as he is to feel like he's giving up on his love, he can't deny that this is much more preferable than wandering around chasing down a man who - to the public, at least - is nothing but a rumor of a horror story.

"Where did you go?" A-Yuan eventually asks as Wangji carefully makes his way down into the rabbit field.

"Many places."

"Uncle said you want to find someone."

"Mn."

"Who?"

"Someone important to me." A-Yuan is silent for long enough that they make it to the field and are able to sit down in the soft grass, the rabbits immediately hopping closer to investigate, and Wangji helps A-Yuan sit in his lap so that he can then pass him a rabbit to pet.

"Where did your person go?" A-Yuan asks as he pets his rabbit's soft ears and Wangji stays quiet for a long moment to gather his thoughts.

"I don't know," he finally replies when he's been silent for so long that A-Yuan turns to look up at him as if to make sure he hasn't fallen asleep. "He had to leave, but I didn't want him to."

"Oh. He didn't say where?"

"No."

Lan Wangji sits in silence and watches A-Yuan gently pet the rabbit in his lap as he seems to be thinking hard about that, his little mind turning the problem over and over as he tries his best to comprehend how someone could leave without telling where they were going. Since A-Yuan had woken up from the fever, malnutrition, and exhaustion he'd been suffering from when Wangji brought him home he'd been unable to remember a time before he lived in Cloud Recesses. His time in Gusu has been full of nothing but love and care thanks to Xichen and Wangji - and everyone else, of course, because nobody can resist loving A-Yuan - so the concept of true, genuine loss is foreign to him. Something which Wangji is immensely grateful for, seeing as the child actually has plenty of losses to mourn for if he only knew it.

"Father?"

"A-Yuan."

"I won't ever leave."

Wangji's heart clenches in his chest and he takes a deep breath in before looking down to meet A-Yuan's wide, dark eyes as the boy looks up at him. He smiles softly, just the slightest hints at the corners of his mouth, but A-Yuan is his son and he knows how to read him as well as Xichen or Wei Ying and he offers his own grin in response - the sort of happy, carefree grin that Wangji can't remember ever wearing on his own face, or seeing on the faces of the people he loved as a child.

Things are changing in Cloud Recesses, and despite the pushback from the elders - or perhaps because of it - Wangji is sure that it's for the better.

"Thank you, A-Yuan."

[spirit-science-blog]

Let us begin first with the Demiurge. The Demiurge is an ancient Greek and Gnostic concept describing a consciousness that is essentially the creator of the physical reality, but not the supreme creative force behind all things.

An excellent way to explore this idea is through the Matrix, a Science-Fiction story that suggests everything we think we know of as the real world is nothing but an illusion, a false world within which most are imprisoned, unable to identify what is real effectively. As people go about their day to day lives, they think that their world is real, but every individual is plugged into an artificial reality severed from the real world. While people suffer, there is a tremendous benefit to the ruling overlords, who were a form of AI in the film. As it relates to us, this AI is, in essence - the Demiurge.

The Demiurge was described as a force, a deity, or a consciousness responsible for creating the physical world. However, in a way, it had imposed itself over top of the actual reality, the supreme oneness that created all things. In this, it was a false god who had assumed authority over the world, masking the living beings - namely us - from the supreme truth, the highest order of creation, and making us believe that what we experienced as real, the physical reality that we’re a part of, was the actual, authentic reality. Depending on the school and belief of the different Gnostic Sects, the Demiurge was seen either as something evil, deliberately trying to deceive us, or something that was merely ignorant or misguided of its place in the universe and of the rest of creation, which led to us becoming lost in the illusion as a result.

Said in simple terms - the Demiurge was the force behind the physical universe. Still, within our consciousness, so long as we perceived that physical to be real, we were slaves to the illusion of the false or at least incomplete reality.

To that end, these ancient people, at least those who were a part of the old mystery schools, believed that the physical reality was an illusion. They sought to liberate themselves from the illusion of reality through varying spiritual practices, from meditation to plant medicine ceremonies and everything in-between, to connect with higher realms of existence, and break free of the false world by finding the truth: the supreme oneness within. This is because even the demiurge and the physical universe still stemmed from the ultimate oneness, and the light of Truth could be found within. Known to the Gnostics as Sophia, meaning Wisdom in Greek, it was the act of awakening this divine spark within us to return to the higher realms that were the ultimate goal of many Gnostic Schools.

This is where we find the roots of Enlightenment and like-concepts from around the world, which teach that within this world of suffering, we can release ourselves from the illusion through various forms of mastery and self-discipline (physical, emotional, mental). This, of course, takes considerable effort and intention to do so. In essence - transcendent people do what is hard, and that’s why their lives are comfortable. People in suffering do what is easy, and that’s why their life is hard.

Fast forward to today, there is a tremendous volume of voices from across the internet, exploring ideas, concepts and sharing a metric-buttload of memes. But amidst the voices of the masses, we find a new concept emerging and being discussed in scientific and even some mainstream circles… an idea that proposes that the entire universe as we know it is a hologram or a simulation of some kind.

Scientifically speaking, if we look at the cosmos from the perspective of quantum mechanics, there is a general acknowledgment that we don’t understand the universe like we thought we did. We are seeing the building blocks of the universe, the subatomic particles, the waves, behaving in ways that do not make sense in the context of Classical Mechanics, which reveal discrepancies in the laws of physics. Yet, physics laws still stand and apply in a practical sense when talking about our macroscopic world, but the fabric of the reality that we live in operates by rules we have yet to uncover.

The holographic universe seems, in principle, to be very much like how you might expect a movie and a projector to work in tandem. When you watch a movie, you enjoy it linearly, going through it one frame at a time, usually at 24, 30, or 60 frames per second. The stories on the screen follow a narrative of some kind and generally speaking, there are definite laws that make-up the universe you are experiencing in the film.

Yet, the quantum world, on the other hand, is like observing the entire film, timelessly at any point, which includes zooming in on individual frames, playing things backward, forwards, the sequels, the prequels, all at the same time. The particles and waves that make up our reality are non-linear and could potentially imply notions of retrocausality. While they also follow their own set of laws, they are different from the world. We exist at a macro level. Another example of this is computer code. What you see on your computer or phone screen at any given time is a filtered projection of what is going on underneath, designed to be easy for you to interpret.

Yet, under these machines' surface, there is an incomprehensible computer language to nearly everyone. Languages like Binary and Machine Code are too simple to make complex algorithms effectively. Instead, programmers use ‘higher-level languages’ designed to be understood by humans to write code that is then translated into the lower, base-level machine code, then binary at the bottom. When you look at your phone or computer monitor, what you see ultimately comprises mountains of ones and zeros that lay under the surface of the digital world, just like what is under the surface of our reality.

You might be familiar with the ancient wisdom teaching, As Above, So Below. A concept that applies on several levels, describing that which exists in higher realities is a mirror of lower realities. With machine code and binary, ultimately, all of that computational code is equal to and actively creates the digital experience on your devices, but they are two entirely different paradigms.

This is the great challenge of modern science today, unifying quantum mechanics and general relativity because we are unable to comprehend yet how the physical world with tangible substance, continuity, gravity, life, time, and consciousness emerge from this flux field of quantum information, which appears to operate by a very different set of laws related to statistics and probability. Yet… are they so different?

The question then becomes, as many are theorizing today - could our entire reality be nothing more than a simulation? An artificial reality that our consciousness is plugged into? Some oddities have been captured on camera that some people believe are glitches in the matrix. Maybe it’s fake, who knows, but we do have this curious clip of a bird perched in midair without moving before flying away.

There was also news footage from Russia many years ago that someone caught an individual levitating on camera, but when the guy with the camera called out to them, the girl dropped down and ran away. Now again - I’m not trying to say this is hard evidence of a real-life matrix, but it indeed compels curiosity, and this is what it’s all about - humanity living in the question, in the mystery of life, and these strange occurrences that beg us to ask the question… What is the true nature of reality? Now on that note, I encourage you to please do your research, go down these rabbit holes for yourself, and make up your mind! In this way, you become a conduit of free thought, rather than following in the herd mentality of that which has been established for you by the powers that be. Even if physics laws as we know them today say that this is impossible, we also understand that physics laws are incomplete. We don’t even know how to fit Gravity into our standard model of physics properly… Perhaps unlocking these secrets will change everything for us.

And this brings us to the primary key of our conspiracy theory of everything, the basis from which everything to come will build off. The demiurge is, in essence, a lesson about the illusion of reality. As we conceive it to be, the entire world is based on what we perceive with our physical senses. A limited experience of the totality of that which exists in the whole universe. This idea suggests that this illusion of the cosmos is incomplete, and as long as we believe in only it by itself, we too shall remain incomplete. We live within a material universe, but there is more to the cosmos than just that, and as long as we choose to believe in this false reality, we will continue to perpetuate its existence. Only by embracing what we don’t know and asking the right questions can we begin to break free of the constraints that bind us.

In the Emerald Tablets of Thoth the Atlantean, there is a great deal of discussion that describes the human soul as a light trapped in a veil of the night, a metaphor suggesting that the night is the illusion of separateness, the soul disconnected from the supreme oneness, or trapped in illusions in general… basically, anything that is not the highest truth. It is the unilluminated mind that actively creates the reality that it perceives to be real. As such, humanity lives out its days in the darkness, veiled in the illusion of one's own beliefs, disconnected from a higher reality.  

This was portrayed excellently in Marvel's Dr. Strange when Steven denies anything beyond the material universe and then is shown a glimpse of the multidimensional nature of reality and that thoughts are things. He shows that we steer the reality field by our conscious intention, but as we become complacent in creating our lives, we give up control of the driver's seat, and who then is driving the ship? Anyone, and everything else. Jung called it the collective unconscious, the collective mind-field of everyone whose thoughts and feelings influence our very own decisions and actions by calculating their energetic weight. Whether it be the media, the news, advertisements, what your family or friends tell you, or things you happen across on the internet… Ultimately, all of it goes into our egos, shaping who we think we are, as we disconnect further from the nature of our being.

So the question then becomes, what IS the truth, what is the higher reality, and how do we connect with it? The ancient wisdom teachings describe that the quest for wisdom, or enlightenment, or the true nature of being - is a continuous journey into the unknown, and the illumination that we are active creators of our lives, not merely beholden unto the preconceived patterns that we’ve been following in.

The great truth we must understand about the demiurge is that we are the ones who actively perpetuate its existence by believing in the physical universe as the ultimate reality. Your beliefs shape the truth that you experience, as Dr. Bruce Lipton has demonstrated through his work with The Biology of Belief - the thoughts and ideas we hold in our minds can be scientifically proven to affect how our DNA and Cells express themselves.

If you believe you are a lowlife with nothing going on and will die alone and miserable, guess what kind of life you will lead? If you think you can change the world, imagine what kind of life you will lead? To break free of the limitations that we feel are imposed upon us, we must first believe that it’s possible to do so. We must open ourselves to a greater truth, a greater reality, one that is beyond the demiurge, and perceive a cosmic truth that forever changes life as we know it…

Yet, humanity is not paying attention to messages like this in mass, and there’s a reason for it. It is a very significant and critical thing. This one piece of the puzzle must be resolved for humanity to truly advance as a species and break free of illusion collectively…

Our journey down the Rabbit Hole is only just beginning…

[theslowliferp]

How To Bear Hug A Porcupine

A.K.A…. WORKING THROUGH GRIEF.

This week I’ve been grieving.

Hidden grief, trapped grief, the kind that’s been loitering on the peripheries of my mind for decades and is finally allowed to bubble to the surface grief. It’s a pure grief like a saltwater spring, filtered as it travels towards the light through millennia of limestone rock.

It’s the grief I first experienced when paralysed in a Spanish hospital bed, as the true reality of my situation and what I'd lost hit home.

It’s the grief I feel when I allow myself to step outside survival mode and dive into the deep and terrifying ocean that’s my emotions; and although it’s deep, it's a simple grief.

A grief that’s encountered by every human on this planet.

The overwhelming grief we experience at the loss of a loved one*.

*In this case my self.

If I’d been grieving for someone else, it might’ve been easier for me to understand, process and express my pain.

Alongside all the complex emotions which combine to create “grief”, I also have the additional guilt that accompanies the story of…

"Quit being selfish… You’re lucky… Cheer Up and (wo)man up."  -- Bob Johnson (my Mind Monkey)

—————

We find it difficult to express our grief in public and in private, we hold onto our thoughts, fears and emotions, as we hold back the physical representation of this tangled mess… our tears.

It’s a hard battle to fight without the added torture of our “mind monkey” stories about the shame in grieving for ourselves.

Though, in truth when we grieve isn’t it nearly always for ourselves?

There are multiple, global belief systems that suggest our loved ones are in a much better place; experiencing some version of a heaven, being reborn into a new life or in an eternal slumber where they no longer feel pain or suffering.

So why do we mourn their passing?

Is it because they are no longer able to live their lives? If this is true, why do we grieve for someone who’s lived a long and full life?

We grieve because of the truly empty space in our own lives and hearts that can never be filled once that person has left us. It’s the pain of knowing our lives will never be the same; no more conversations, no more creation of shared memories and no more friendship, love and companionship. In other words…

We grieve for our loss, not theirs.

—————

I know this can be an uncomfortable concept because it creates the same feelings of guilt, that I experience when also grieving for my self. We feel shame because we're being selfish but what can be selfish about feeling pain at the loss of love in our lives?

Some of us on a deeply buried, subconscious level are mourning the loss of the most profound love of all.

I have memories of what was “before” the life I’m living now.

When I’m in a deep meditative state, I can recall the faint traces of an immense, vast and eternal love, a love of such intensity that my tiny human body and mind cannot contain it. I remember being torn away from this love and I experience a deep loss and longing for something I don’t fully comprehend.

The grief I feel in that moment of recollection, is the deepest grief I’ve ever experienced.

The process of grieving is as complex and unique as the person taking that lonely journey.

I don’t believe there is one solution to working through grief and I definitely know there aren’t “STAGES” we ALL go through.

It’s even more complex when a life is cut short before it's truly begun.

We endure great sorrow on behalf of those who’ll never get to experience the full technicolored wonder of a long and beautiful life. In those moments we aren’t only grieving for ourselves but for a life that was never lived.

Collective loss is the most painful to endure.

—————

I didn’t realise until this year, that I’m grieving for the loss of a young life too; a carefree 20 year old that was starting to find her way in the world, a small bird that was spreading her wings to fly free.

I grieve for the life she's lost, the dreams she made that will never come true and her path in life that came to an unexpectedly abrupt and violent end.

I didn’t realise I was grieving for a very long time. It was buried so deep, I didn’t know of its existence until a counsellor stated…

"Your body might not have died but Rachel did. "

I’d refused to acknowledge this fact.

I believed if I gave into my grief, I wouldn’t be able to heal. I believed not surrendering made me strong and I believed I wasn’t a victim by not appearing selfish or weak. I shut the door and refused to look back. Thankfully 20 years later, experience has taught me…

we can’t move forward until we look into our past, to uncover and release our emotional anchors.

These are the ties that bind us, the cords that keep us tethered and we can’t be released until we do the work to set ourselves free.

Trauma Counselling gave me the strength to find my anchors and I was able to take my own steps to set myself free.

I know counselling isn’t for everyone but through my spoken word performances and collective sharing, I’ve had a number of people approach me to talk about trauma and to ask about my journey. These conversations encouraged me to share my thoughts, experiences and insights that you find written here.

Whether you’re grieving or have a loved one who’s experiencing grief, I hope through these words… you’ll know you’re not alone… there’s a way through this and a light at the end of this dark tunnel.

I’m not a counsellor...…

Instead I’ve walked the miles, know the terrain and have blisters on my feet from wearing the shoes.

Please seek professional help if this resonates with you. There are people waiting & wanting to help you.

It would be great to hear from you about the resources, organisations or networks you’ve accessed, if you’ve been on this journey too. Please leave a comment below so we can share our knowledge and experiences.

We don’t know what support is available to us, until we are open to being vulnerable and sharing our collective experiences.

Here’s my 3 main points for processing grief.

1.

If emotions were represented by the elements, joy would be the air, anger would be fire and grief would be water.

Of all the emotions, grief is the most like the waves of the ocean.

It follows a regular pattern (though it feels like there is none) and when it swells up to meet us, we fear we'll drown before it eases and breaks on the shore. In the early stages we barely get chance to recover before we’re hit by yet another wave.

It's incredibly hard to stand waist deep in the ocean, plant your feet in the sand and face down every wave as it batters your chest, your head and your heart.

Growing up by the North Sea, from an early age I was taught the danger comes when we turn our back on the waves, it’s only then that we can be caught off guard, unable to stand firm and risk being swept off our feet.

I know it seems impossible to ride out the waves but whatever your reason for experiencing grief; whether you’re mourning the loss of love in your life, a life cut short or even a metaphorical death and loss of self, we need to turn our faces towards the ocean, look to the blue horizon and let the waves do what nature does best…

flow.

—————

2.

Grief isn’t an experience to be avoided, it’s a physical way of releasing a mind and soul felt trauma.

Your body is a thing of beauty, so many functions happen at once as trillions of cells all intuitively interact with each other. Trust your own intuition and let your body do whatever it needs. It knows instinctively how to release the emotions you need to process.

Holding onto emotions trap them within your body, where they stagnate and eventually psychological pain transforms into physical pain. Trust me I’ve learnt this the hard way, 20 years of emotional suffering has now manifested into chronic, debilitating pain.

Grief can’t be ignored or reasoned with… it can only be felt.

Learning to sit with grief is hard (hard seems such a tiny adjective compared to the enormity of the task). Allowing myself to feel intense emotions as tears flow down my face, snot shoots out my nose and animal-like wailing takes place… being able to sit back and allow this to happen naturally without judgement or shame?

I’m not going to lie… it doesn't come naturally to me.

Facing complex emotions takes bravery but it’s liberating when we allow our bodies to choose the best method for releasing trapped energy.

Don’t ever feel ashamed of your red, tear-burnt eyes and blotchy face or for needing to curl up in a ball under a duvet to hug it out. The precious moments when I’ve completely surrendered to physical release and let the emotions and actions run their course… I’ve found the energy naturally dissipates.

Like a stormy ocean, once we move past all the terrifying chaos on the surface, we find a deep, calm sense of peace resting underneath.

—————

3.

Leaning into grief takes PATIENCE and the only way we practice is in real time.

The more unnerving, unsettling or uncomfortable our emotions, the more patience, compassion and courage we need to fully embrace them.

I’d describe it as trying to bearhug a porcupine… equal amounts disbelief at our stupidity, fear of the pain we’re about to experience and sheer audacity (or optimism) that things will work out just fine.

The more practice we get, the more we become experts but until that time, we need to face the fact that this is a painful learning curve. Other “experts” will help you shorten this curve, which is why it’s good to seek out help. I’ve always taken onboard any advice or techniques my counsellor and other experts gave me but knowing that grief is unique, I combined their guidance with my own intuition to create my own methods. You’ll find you develop your own process for handling those lethal spikes.

Only when you fully embrace the process and your painful emotions can they be released into the wild. You just need to start and that begins with a genuine intention and desire to set your porcupines free.

One final thought.

From everything I’ve witnessed in my own life and the lives of others, learning to process grief (along with any difficult emotion) is a lifelong practice. It takes true dedication to your own health and mental wellbeing and it’s certainly not easy but often the greatest rewards are hidden behind the biggest challenges.

Every day when I was paralysed in a hospital bed, I felt grief washing over me. Fearful that it would consume me, I looked for the small moments of joy and happiness in my situation. Anything from a kind smile from a stranger passing in the corridor to a conversation with one of the nurses as they changed my bandages.

These silver linings as I called them helped me through a very traumatic situation but I didn’t realise that once I’d healed physically, it was the time to heal emotionally.

Becoming a witness to our own journey is one of the most liberating and powerful gifts we can give to ourselves. Sharing that gift with others is so important, only then can we start to make real changes in this world.

Hopefully one day human beings will be so adept at naturally processing our feelings, we get to experience the true vibrancy of what we presently call good & bad emotions.

I’ve found a lot of beauty in both.

—————

[prettywordsyouleft]

Human Nature

Prompt: #61 + #64 for anon – “I wish I’d never met you.” + “I came to say goodbye.”

Anonymous said:

Hey. I'm the anon who requested number 61+64 alien drabble with Jeonghan. It was my first time requesting so I was wondering if you will do it. Trhank you. 😊

Pairing: Jeonghan x reader

Genre: alien au / romance / angst

Warnings: none

Word count: 1640

“I came to say goodbye,” he whispered into your ear, knowing the words would only meld into your dream state and not alert you of his actual departure. The idea of you being awake and sending him off was too much to bear.

Especially if you cried.

Jeonghan’s mission to visit Earth was to gather intelligence. He had been sent to further understand why humans were unpredictable creatures, so vast in mindset and emotions. The planet from which he came from was a peaceful place, where no one questioned the unnecessary. Everyone carried out the same level of productivity each day, all working towards the greater good of their land. There was never any true shift in demeanour, unlike what they had observed from Earth. They had decided after inspecting from afar for some time that they would send multiple teams to different parts of this foreign world, to get a more in-depth grasp over why humans were the most peculiar of creatures.

To him, you had been the most unusual of them all.

You possessed no sense of gravity, you ate even when you weren’t hungry and you could laugh and cry all in one day. What had started as curiosity soon evolved into great interest. Jeonghan was certain you were a very different kind of human and one that his species would find enthralling to understand up close.

His approach in getting to know you made you experience high spikes of anxiety though.

“Is… is there something I can help you with?” you asked of him, blinking rapidly. He watched you for a moment or two, scanning your expression avidly. You were fearful of him and so to ensure he was successful, he smiled at you.

His human guise could perhaps be thought of as handsome, at least, that was what he had heard a group of women on the university campus exclaim as he walked by. Back home, he looked just like everyone else and so Jeonghan had to admit, he was a little impressed by his choice of outward appearance here on Earth.

The smile didn’t ease you at all, and Jeonghan soon realised that his appearance made you uncomfortable. Should he change it? Could you be suffering from a sense of unworthiness? He attempted to raise a gentle hand towards you but your eyes remained guarded and he dropped it, lowering his head and walking away.

For a confident alien, every time he tried to connect with you, he would become feeble in your presence. You were slowly coming out of your shell, not necessarily at ease with him, though you no longer guarded your expression either. Jeonghan was frustrated at how slow you opened up compared to all the other female humans. They would fawn over him, displaying large amounts of sexual desire and willingness to get closer to him. He wasn’t seeking that kind of connection with your kind, though it did perturb him that you didn’t act in the same manner.

“You often appear here,” you mentioned in the study hall one evening, off your own accord. A small smile pulled at your lips. “You live in the apartment complex across the road from me, right?”

So you had noticed him then. He smiled and nodded, choosing not to speak to you yet. You were doing such a good job at conversing with him already that he worried he would unsettle you if he did.

The next time he appeared in the library however, he did. And soon you would actively have conversations together, your smiles brightening the further you got to know him. Or at least, the storyline he had adopted for his human stay.

Somewhere along the lines, he had started to incorporate things that weren’t so planned into his talks with you, finding himself lying awake at night and trying to decipher where the thought came from. It felt like his own, yet he had never needed to express himself in any other way before to his fellow kind. There was no true way of expressing how one felt back home and Jeonghan slowly realised the habits of doing so on a daily basis here on Earth were rubbing off on him.

He was understanding humanity a little more as time went by.

“Why did you approach me, Jeonghan?” you asked on a walk home one night, and he glanced down at you, brows knitting together. He noticed the flush of colour to your skin, the increase of your beating heart. You were anxious over something, yet your lips curled ever so slightly, more with anticipation.

Blinking, he attempted to settle your nerves with a smile. “I wanted to know more about you.”

“Why me?” You kicked the toe of your sneaker mindlessly into the grass field you were crossing together back to your apartments. He had started worrying about you doing this trek alone late at night, and so lately he would meet you at the library, even if he hadn’t come to study.

Or well, pretend to study in his case.

You were still shy. “I mean, you could spend your time getting to know anyone else. I’m kind of clumsy and boring as a human, you know.”

He smiled, at least you knew of your faults well. “I like that you’re clumsy and boring.”

“Oh.” You were crimson now, skin boiling with foolishness. “So I’m just a friend?”

“Well, I don’t see anyone else worth spending my time with. You are my favourite,” he explained, hoping that would ease how uncomfortable you appeared.

Nodding all too fast you turned to him, stretching up just long enough to peck him on the cheek before dropping back onto your heels, rocking as you gathered your balance. Despite how stunned he felt, his hand shot out on instinct to help you remain upright, holding onto your wrist protectively. You glanced down at his hand there and smiled, possibly the most beautiful smile he had ever seen in his time here.

It wasn’t in Jeonghan’s mission to fall in love. Although the concept was one his people wished to learn more about, he had not been sent here to delve so deeply into the emotion as he had with you. Over the next four months, shy moments turned passionate, to where he started to lay at your side after sessions of love-making that made him feel more human than anything else. He had blurred the lines between what type of entity he was entirely. He had no desire to report back to his homeland, no inkling to go back to a world where everyone was the same. He appreciated all your little nuances, the way you allowed yourself to be vulnerable around him compared to everyone else.

You were his human and he would do anything for you.

He had hoped he wouldn’t be the cause of your pain, however. His chest hurt as he watched the tears well in your eyes, your bottom lip wobbling with the pressure of holding your emotions back long enough to ask him. “You’re… you’re leaving?”

“I have to go back to my home. But I will return.”

“I thought, this was your home,” you mumbled, lowering your head. “Where are you going? Is it far away? Will I be able to come visit? Or we could do long distance-”

He shook his head sadly. “I won’t be able to be in contact while I’m away. I don’t know how long it will be either. Maybe months or a year. I’m sorry.”

“Is this your way of breaking up with me?” you whispered, voice cracking under the weight of your tears. “Was this just a game for you, make the awkward girl fall in love with the handsome guy?”

“Y/N,” he called as you looked up, seeing the barriers being built back up, one layer at a time. Jeonghan closed his eyes; he had worked too hard to get through each of them. Yet he had no choice. He had been summoned and the return flight home would be in two days. He had no idea when he would be allowed to return.

Jeonghan knew he would find a way to do just that, though. “I love you.”

Tears now streamed down from your eyes, your head shaking softly and sending them out as little shields in his direction. Pushing his confession away. “I wish I’d never met you.”

It hurt him to hear you utter such words but he could tell it troubled you even more, the way your legs gave way with the eruption of your pain. The sobs were wild and he backed away, unable to comprehend that he had shouldered you with such burden.

Jeonghan left you there, and it was the hardest thing he had ever faced.

Tonight, under the moonlight that shone through your windows proudly, uncovered by your usual heavy curtains as you had forgotten to close them, Jeonghan spent a final time at your side. You had shifted towards him out of instinct, arms slipping around his waist and your head buried into his chest. You were smiling in your dreams, perhaps in a world where he and you could be together forever. He slowly smiled himself; he craved that more than anything else.

Not this goodbye that he must endure just as much as you. Running his fingers through your hair softly, he pressed his lips to the side of your head, pulling back and let out a shaky breath. “I love you, my beautiful human.”

And with that, he climbed up and left your apartment, unseeing the tears that fell from behind closed eyes, your heart unable to reach out and stop him. Somehow knowing he had to leave for a reason that held no other option.

And hoping he would return for love.

_________________

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[lascivo-derrame]

why do you consider yourself an atheist? do you really believe human consciousness is something that arose naturally? you don't believe a single thing on earth is too good or too bad or too strange to not be of divine origin? you think we're made out of cells which are made from molecules which are made from atoms? you think there are millions of planets and stars out there, infinitely? how could have simple chemicals have aligned so perfectly to create this very moment? how can something as great and vast as the universe exist without divine interference? what is it that makes you say "god does not exist" rather than "we can never know for sure whether god exists or not"?

1. Why would you assume I'm an atheist? Do you even know what does being an atheist means? It seems to me as crystal clear that you people should read some Wittgenstein, Saussure or Derrida idk just citing out of my head. In doing so you would understand that concepts are not individual entities whose meaning arise out and by themselves. Words are signs of meaning. And the meaning of a sign (a word or a concept wtv) is achieved by putting it him into relation with other signs by which he gains his meaning and offer possibilities of meaning to the signs he was once put into consideration. Language is a game of social and historical references. Language is a complex tree of signifiers and signifies and its imprudent to call someone an atheist just because I ve manifested my opposition to the influence religions had, have and aim to achieve in society. THAT SAID, NO I DON'T CONSIDER MYSELF AN ATHEIST. An atheist is someone who REFUSES THE EXISTENCE OR POSSIBILITY OF EXISTENCE OF DEITES. I DON'T. I DO NOT DISCARD THE POSSIBILITY OF THEIR EXISTENCE!!!! I can't say they exist as well as I can't say they do not. But what I can say is given the fact that we are unable to answer that, people can't impose their unsustained belief in world matters. Simple. Ffs. Let's follow.

2. Once again we fail to understand that knowledge is limited by our own biology and that's Allright. It does not mean that there s some superior creature out there that input it into you. Why would he do so? Why would he then feel the need to write to us (conscious beings made by himself) to lectures on what we are doing wrong or what we should be doing like wtf?! He would give us a conscious only aware of him and his truth. Why then do we even question his existence? The fact that you can't provide an answer to the origin of consciousness is more of a problem that arises from within you and precisely by that can't be solved. The mechanisms you use to comprehend things lie inside the thing you re trying to explain. Makes sense or not? You don't even know what conscious is. What does conscious means? We are unable to formulate the problem because we re trying to explain something which is paradoxically within you (the experiment of it) and beyond you (the way to correctly express it). No clear answer to that but a lot of appealing improvements on the question. See Penrose or Bennet about it.

3. This one I'm not even answering lol. If it s too bad it can't certainly be of divine origin ahahah like what the fuck you saying? There are marvelous things and enigmatic yes I conceed that and that's all. Nothing to do with the divine.

4,5,6. Ok now it's getting easier to answer. I don't think lol. WE ALL KNOW OR SHOULD KNOW THAT WE ARE MADE OUT OF CELLS and so on. Cmon bruh! They were even discovered by a Christian monk ffs. It is the basic structure of life and all the experiments realized proved it an indisputable truth. Yes atoms and molecules too. Idk if you type this questions on a smartphone or laptop or wtv but i can assure you that they are the combinations of units of matter present in Medvedev s periodic table. DAMN! you learn this shit in school and I should not even be extending myself about this. It was all scientifically proved. Millions of planets in our galaxy no. But there are other galaxies already discovered such as Andromeda which make pretty reasonable the existence other planets yes. As for the stars they already exist in that number in our own solar system.

7,8. Not losing time with these ones. The first has been answered before and you just have to educate yourself a little (a basic Google research) to understand how quantum physics works. The second is just a product of your biased, blind belief. If you want to belive it is a work of divine intervention fine just don't expect the community of Reason to allign with such a lunatic view of reality. And above all don't try to impose those supra natural hallucinations in a evidence governed society.

9. I ve answered in the first point. We will never know of his existence. Both views reject themselves as none of them can prove a direct link to his manifestation. What matters here is to live in accordance to what we know, pursue subjects of interest and promote a critical spirit to attain "new" truths. One thing is for certain, believing in a God does not give anyone the legitimacy to kill people, conquest territories or disturb the actual state of affairs sustained by the principles of scientific knowledge. As Wittgenstein would put it, religion is of course a very important and curious matter but as it cannot be disputed or even logically talked about its meaningless. By other words it must not interfere in worldly affairs.

Done! don't bother me again with questions like this. I think I ve made my point pretty clear.

[spookyblackwidow]

Fanfic request: Natasha's having nightmares and is getting super sleep deprived and it's kind of making her sick, and Clint notices and confronts her about it?

Author’s note: Nightmares are literally one of my favorite things to write about?? BLESS YOU. This is way longer than anticipated, but I hope you enjoy!

Weakness

2552 words

Natasha jolted awake, sweat beading on her forehead, a gun clutched in her hand, trained on an imaginary threat. The fear faded, slowly, as she became aware of her familiar surroundings, the antique furniture of the bedroom in her primary safe house just outside New York City. She shook off the dream and forced her ragged breathing to slow, an attempt to counteract her racing heart. It was just past 2 a.m., and, although she hadn’t been asleep long, she had enough experience to know she’d be awake for quite a while.

The glow of streetlights seeped through the blinds, softly illuminating strips of laminate beneath her feet. She made her way to the kitchen, resisting the innate urge to flip on lights and ensure her safety, certain enough of her movements and the reality that the danger she’d just emerged from would remain firmly in her mind, unable to creep out into existence. Realism and denial were programmed into her, a staunch refusal to take things at face value ingrained over years of reprogramming, the aliases and brainwashing that never seemed to end, no light at the end of a labyrinth. Tunnels were too linear, too neat, too easy to navigate. Her life had been a messy nightmare she couldn’t quite shake, no matter how much time had passed since she’d defected, since she’d last been unmade.

The kettle whistled, an agonizingly sharp whine burrowing its way into her exhausted brain. She swore under her breath and turned off the burner, annoyed she’d gotten so wrapped up inside her thoughts she’d lost awareness of her surroundings. Something wound through her legs, further startling her, the black shadow begging for attention, acknowledgement, anything.

“Fucking hell, Liho,” Natasha grumbled into her steaming mug of tea, her perpetually icy fingers clutching the ceramic, greedily absorbing its warmth. Carefully stepping around the way-too-fucking-alert cat, she settled into an oversized chair and clicked on a lamp, the pale light fighting against the encroaching darkness an all too familiar sight.

She picked up a book, its spine cracked, the edges worn and faded, a relic from a previous life, from back when she could dissociate enough to get lost in a story. It was one of the few things she’d carried with her into the Red Room, always safely stashed away under a mattress, stuffed in a threadbare pillowcase, buried within a carefully carved hole in the wall. She wasn’t quite sure how she’d managed to hold onto it through all the identities she’d been given, and whatever original meaning it had held was gone, but she liked the idea of having a tangible reminder of the innocent girl she’d once been. She’d tried night after night for years, but she couldn’t bring herself to read it, opting instead to study the dog-eared corners, the inked drawings scattered throughout, mostly doodles scribbled by unknown hands, each an everlasting mark of the book’s history.

Natasha paged through it, seeing but not comprehending the Cyrillic characters of her native tongue. This had become her nightly ritual, a way to detach from whatever horrible vision had awoken her, actions that would hopefully calm her enough to be able to sleep again, although it was never for long. How many years had she been sleeping so fitfully? Her whole life? Or maybe just the last several identities? She’d lost too much time, too much trust in reality to ever be sure. She closed her eyes, but she knew there’d be no more rest before sunrise.

Morning crept in, sunlight inching its way in through the windows, a warm hue that she might’ve derived pleasure from if this hadn’t been the eighteenth morning in a row she’d sat in the same chair, agonizingly awake, witnessing the same dreadful reminder that she’d soon be expected to do things. As it was nearing six, she figured she had just enough time to shower, get dressed, and wash her mug before the first message from Nick would arrive; after so many years working together, he was aware that she was typically an early riser, a fact he took full advantage of. Sure enough, she was placing the mug back in the cupboard when she got the call to come in.

She considered making breakfast, but her stomach turned, the mere idea of eating seemed revolting. The dull ache behind her eyes reminded her that skipping another meal was definitely not what she should be doing, but the food aversion won out, a side effect she’d mentally catalogued and shoved aside long ago.

Her debriefing was short—a routine tracking job, a potential hit, more busy work than anything. Nick handed her a new identity to become familiar with in the event she was cornered, along with one for Clint; it was officially a Strike Team: Delta mission, not that she needed the help, although she would be grateful for the company. As always, they’d improvise, no overly complex maneuvers, no extraction plan. All she needed now was her dumbass best friend to show up on time.

Nick left her to wait in his office, which, under normal circumstances wouldn’t bother her, but the leather chair and wide windows felt too much like home in the most literal sense, and she was getting restless. She stood—too quickly, she soon realized—and paced, her empty stomach complaining, small bursts of light dancing in her peripherals. She blinked away the spots, certain they’d been gold, although they’d simply been white earlier, as they should be. No, they shouldn’t be there at all.

Clint entered as she returned to her seat, physically drained, her head fuzzy and aching. His smile was exuberant, but his eyes flickered with concern, a quick once-over confirming that something was very much not okay with Nat. He shot her a knowing look before pasting the smile back on for Nick’s benefit; Clint acted like an idiot most of the time, but he knew better than to let anyone else worry about his best friend.

Natasha let her eyes track the birds flitting past the windows, slightly iridescent rock pigeons swooping about, bouncing across various ledges and sills, their feathers ruffling in the breeze. She was only faintly aware of Nick droning on in the background, her mind miles away, drifting somewhere among the birds. Clouds of smoke billowed up outside, the thick grey choking out parts of the city, flooding her vision until she could see nothing else. Her muscles tensed, heart rate steadily increasing, the flood of cortisol effectively convincing her this was how it all ended. She closed her eyes, anticipating a flash of heat, pain, and then nothing.

“Nat?” Clint placed a hand on hers, the rough pad of his thumb gently rubbing circles across her white knuckles, a familiar and instinctive action they rarely let others witness. She could hear the strain in his voice, thinly disguised as annoyance, nearly every part of their lives some sort of act, a far cry from who they were together, who they wanted to be. Having felt no other change, her body still intact, she slowly opened her eyes, blinking away the previous fogginess, restoring her sight to normal.

“Sorry, I got a little lost in thought there.” She smiled weakly, just enough to shake off concern, but not too much to raise suspicion. “Where were we?”

“Reviewing your identities. I shouldn’t have to remind you that being well-versed in your backstory could make the difference between life and death,” Nick said.

She struggled to focus through the rest of the meeting, her mind straying to the horrors that had been keeping her up at night, the visions that she knew would never truly leave her, rather mutating into increasingly unsettling versions of themselves, morphing with other memories and fears. The red in her ledge had merged with her vivid imagination, creating monstrosities she didn’t care to reveal to anyone, as letting them out of her mind, giving voice to the atrocities, would only spread the nightmare, infecting her most trusted friends with the concepts, irreparably contaminating their thoughts and dreams. She knew he would ask, as he always had in times like these, but she wouldn’t share, couldn’t willingly harm him. The secrecy would hurt him enough, he didn’t need to allow her worst fears to become his own.

He waited for the elevator doors to close before confronting her, one hand wrapped firmly around her bicep, the other pivoting her shoulder so she’d face him. Normally she’d fight back, at the very least pry his fingers off her arm, but fighting this seemed pointless. Instead, she fought the resurfacing image from the night before, the pain of Clint following through on Loki’s promise. They stood in silence a few moments as he studied her.

“You’re not sleeping, are you.” It was not a question but a final conclusion, spot-on, as always.

“Not for lack of trying.” She shrugged as much as she was able to in his grasp, which had let up only slightly.

“Nightmares again?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Not really. My bad dreams aren’t really your concern.”

“Of course they are! Do you think I like seeing you like this? My best friend, sick, practically a zombie!” He finally released her arm to run his fingers through his hair in exasperation.

“For fuck’s sake, I’m not a zombie, I’m just tired,” she scowled.

“Jesus Christ, Nat.” He watched her thin fingers tap restlessly against her thigh, a telling tic she was too weak to suppress. “Have you even eaten today?”

“Not hungry.”

“Bullshit. We’re getting food in you.” Clint pushed the button for the main floor, and they descended in tense silence. She closed her eyes again, ignoring the spots in her vision, focusing solely on keeping her breathing steady as another nightmare returned to rear its head. Memories of who she used to be, the torment she suffered at the hands of her superiors, the unspeakable crimes she’d committed. Mangled screams, her hands red and bloodied, endless lists of her victims, the names half-remembered at best.

He shoved her through the lobby, down the street, and in the closest door advertising food. It was a cheap pizza joint, one he frequented after missions, usually while intoxicated, but it was the quickest option at the moment. She opened her mouth to protest, to argue that her standard of living was above eating at dollar by-the-slice pizza places that were a far cry from anything resembling a restaurant, but was immediately met with a stern glare.

“Eat.” Clint shoved a paper plate into her hands, a greasy slice of pizza covering most of it. She grimaced and took a small bite, fully aware he wouldn’t let her leave until he’d decided she’d eaten enough. It had been a few months since they’d last gone through this routine, but his food choices had not improved.

“You couldn’t have taken me some place a little nicer? I though you knew how to show a girl a good time.”

“I’ll buy you a proper meal when you learn how to feed yourself. You know, most people gorge on junk food when they’re sleep deprived.”

“I’m much more familiar with fasting.” She set her crust down on the plate, unable to force herself to finish it. “Besides, caffeine is a wonderful appetite suppressant.”

“It’s also a stimulant that can prevent you from sleeping.”

“That’s not about the caffeine, and you know it,” she snapped.

“Then tell me about it! And don’t give me some bullshit about protecting me, I’m not falling for it. You need to work through what’s keeping you awake before it kills you.”

“What part of my hellish life isn’t coming back to haunt me?” she scoffed. “My past, present, potential future. It’s all fucked, Clint, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“You wanna bet?” He smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Clinton Francis Barton, what the hell are you planning now?”

…

Later that night, Natasha sat staring at her book, gently stroking a very happy Liho who was curled up in her lap, anxiously waiting for Clint to arrive. He’d refused to tell her anything—claimed it was better if she didn’t know—and now he was late, despite the fact that he had set the time. The clock in her kitchen seemed louder than usual, the incessant ticking of the second hand stabbing at her aching head. She was moments away from breaking it when the doorbell rang. Clint was smiling, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

“What’s in the bag?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Clint.”

“My stuff. I’m spending the night.”

“Like hell you are!” She started to close the door, but he braced himself against the doorframe and caught the edge.

“Hear me out, Nat. Please. You owe it to yourself to try.”

“Why on earth would you think this is a good idea?” Natasha crossed her arms, but she stepped back, allowing him into her safe house.

“You trust me—don’t even try to argue with me on that. Your unconscious mind is playing off your deepest fears, and you have no method of self-assurance that you’re not who you used to be. But if we trust each other enough to be openly vulnerable, how could you still be that girl? There’s also the added bonus of having an actual Avenger to protect you.”

“I hate you,” she laughed softly and smacked his arm, “but you have a point. One night, that’s it. And you’re sleeping on the floor.”

…

“Nat, please, I know you’re in there somewhere.” Clint was lying at her feet, bloodied, bruised, a blade pressed to the soft flesh beneath his jaw, the knife clutched in her hand. She scanned the room, taking in the lifeless forms of Steve, Sam, Nick. This was her body, but it was full of someone else’s idea of who she should be, the brainwashed identity pulled from the depths of her mind.

“Fallaces sunt rerum species,” she hissed. With an expert flick of her wrist, she severed his jugular and watched him bleed out.

“Nat? Nat!”

She woke in a cold sweat to find Clint, alive and well, shaking her shoulders. It was dark, but the panic was clear in the shadowed lines of his face, and, after a moment, she realized she’d been crying.

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s over.” He laid down next to her and gently wiped her tears, his voice low and soothing.

“I—I killed you,” she whispered.

“Then I guess I’m the zombie now.” He grinned and instinctively flinched, expecting her to hit him.

“You’re an idiot.” Despite her best efforts, she smiled back and hoped he wouldn’t see. She cared far too much for this particular idiot, but letting that show was dangerous, a weakness she’d been trained not to let slip. But moments like these, when they were alone, allowed to be themselves, were treasured memories, the things she longed to dream about instead.

Natasha would never admit it, but Clint’s presence was comforting, so she let him stay in her bed. Curled up in his arms, her head resting on his chest, she let the steady rhythm of his heart lull her into the best sleep she’d had in weeks.

[ardenttheories]

Can I have a Prince of Mind and a Knight of Mind? Thanks

Prince of Mind

The Prince of Mind is someone who Destroys Mind, which is Rationality, Decisions, Thoughts, a lack of Bias, Indifference, the Outer Self and every Potential. 

Princes of Mind are Passionate Players with a lot of Love to give. They Feel everything strongly, likely to a degree that isn’t exceptionally healthy, and don’t give a second thought to their Impulsive actions. They are true Romantics at heart, and likely believe there’s One True Love out there for them - regardless of that person’s actual feelings towards them. 

They follow their Heart above all else, letting their Passions and Desires overwhelm everything they do. It doesn’t matter if it isn’t Logical, if it won’t work, or if the idea itself is horrifically stupid; the Prince of Mind will charge in headfirst, with a sort of “you can’t tell me what to do!” mentality. They’re stubborn bastards, to put it simply, and once their heart is set on something there’s really no stopping them. 

Princes of Mind struggle with keeping their own Biases out of things. Every choice they make and everything they do is based heavily on what they Feel and what they Think, and there is no neutral ground for them. If they hate something, then it’s wrong; if they love it, then it’s right, and no amount of trying to convince them otherwise will work. 

This can easily set them against people; the Prince of Mind is very unlikely to realise when someone is lying to or using them if they trust that person indefinitely. They’re just as unlikely to realise that their friends are trying to help them by exposing that person’s flaws, and may become irate and angry at the mere concept that their Super Best Friend is a bad person. 

In line with that, they also can’t remain Indifference. They always have an opinion on things, they always take sides, and if you disagree with them then you’re the Enemy. They might take that literally depending on how Passionate they are and how involved they are in the subject in question. They’re very black and white like this, and they can even go down the “you’re either with me or against me” route over something minor if they are Emotionally attached to it. 

They may tend to react to things in an over-the-top way. I’d say they really do feel these things, but that some of the emphasis of it might be an act. The fact of the matter is that they just can’t stop themselves from Feeling, from getting Attached, from getting Involved, and they can suffer greatly for it. They’re bleeding hearts and wear their hearts on their sleeves, and it’s just right there, out in the open, for anyone to prey upon. 

Of course, this can get silly. If you break their favourite mug, by accident or not, they’ll hate you forever. If they watch a sad scene on TV, they’ll be sobbing over it for days. If something good happens, they’ll get so happy they might start physicaly bouncing/vibrating, all big beaming smiles. Honestly, you can read them like a damn book. They just don’t hide anything. 

The full brunt of their Emotions can also encapsulate the full brunt of Love. I’m not sure they’d be 100% yandere, but they might get close; they could fully convince themself that this one person is who they’re meant to be with, and get jealous if they show romantic feelings with anyone else. They might get legitimately upset if the person they Love pulls away or seems put off by them, and might not even realise how strongly they’re coming on. 

They might want to spend every moment with them, might feel so fightfully wonderful with them that they try to chase that feeling as much as possible, might think about them at every moment. It wouldn’t matter if that person didn’t love them back; they’d still think that they were meant to be, somehow. 

They wouldn’t get violent - not unless the person really broke their heart, or if they were rejected and then their crush got immediately with someone else/revealled that they’d been dating someone the entire time - but they might have a sort of “I’m their true love, I just have to wait for them to see it” mentality about it. 

What this means, of course, is that Logic doesn’t motivate them. They’re not logical beings, and I would say to some degree that they might also just be a little… stupid? That they just can’t comprehend a lot of things and therefore don’t even try, which might be something they’re horrifically embarrassed over. Pointing out flaws in their own Logic will probably prompt an enraged response as a result. 

They might also be “mindless” - a little flighty, a little forgetful, a little absent. They don’t have plans for the future, instead living day to day because why even bother figuring things out that far in advance? They’re more than likely to change their mind by that point - or already have done several times. 

There’s no Logic behind what they do; they just do it. There’s no Logic that they’ll listen to, because they honestly don’t care about it. Plans won’t vibe by them if, at the time, they think something else needs to be done. Telling them what to do will backfire horrendously. If they even tried to plan something, it’d look scatterbrained and almost incomprehensible, especially compared to the more complex plans of other Mind Players. 

If this all seems very one-sided and internal, then it is! Princes of Mind ghost Heart as their natural opposite, and Heart is a very internal thing. A lot of what they do is based solely around themself, and they have the potential to be incredibly narcassistic as a result. 

Because they’re not a true Heart player, they might not always consider other people or their Feelings when it comes certain events. E.g. if the Prince wants something, it doesn’t matter if someone else needs it - the Prince’s want trumps the need. 

In Destroying Mind, then, the Prince leaves only Heart behind, whole and untempered. This may seem wonderful in some ways, but can be genuinely horrific in others. 

The Prince has the ability to completely Destroy a Player’s Mind. They can crush every Logical thought, every plan, every ounce if Rationality from their brain. 

They can Destroy the ability for someone to remain Indifferent or Apathetic. While this can be put to good use - someone that had no interest in the session or in being a team Player would suddenly have the motivation they need to create a successful session - it could also be terrifying. 

Someone who uses Apathy as a way to cope with trauma would no longer have that crutch. They’d have to face the full brunt of everything they’ve repressed, without any sort of help or guidance. A character that was Apathetic in a good way - such as someone who’d never picked sides but may have been swayed to the enemy side - would no longer be able to stay out of anything. 

They’d expose the full brunt of Emotion to a Player. This could be controlled if they were really trying to focus in on it; they could Destroy just enough Logic to expose a person’s deepest Fears and Doubts so that enemies wouldn’t be able to attack, or to stop someone (e.g. Vriska) from going out on their own and putting everyone in danger. 

If they didn’t, however, then… they could destroy every boundary between a person’s Emotions. Players might start acting out of place, laughing when they should be crying, being too-happy or too-sad at any given time. They might be unable to control their Desires and become greedy, outright attacking other Players in order to get their hands on anything they want. Cycles of revenge would literally never end. 

They can Destroy a person’s Options and the Outcomes that would come as a result. Someone could pick a thousand different Options, but still come out with the same Outcome - e.g. someone could go through ten cartons of different flavour juices, and yet all of them taste like orange - or they could just be completely unable to pick an Option that isn’t what the Prince wants. 

This can be great, naturally. If a Player (Vriska) is going to go out and do something dumb, then the Prince can just take that Option away. They can outright Destroy any potential for that Option or Outcome to even be. 

What this can be, of course, is that a Prince of Mind may Destroy something vital when you combine this with their general lack of Logic. They might not even know that something like Godtiering exists, and thus the Option for it just… never happens. People would be completely obscured from understanding what the Quest Beds are for. 

If the Prince did know about it, then their destruction of Logic could completely break the game. They’d ruin the Logic behind Quest Beds, the basic functionality of them, and cause some wild and whacky things to happen during the Godtiering process. For instance, Players might wake up on their Lands instead of Skaia, or might wake up on another Player’s Land, or might wake up in someone else’s body. Anything would be possible if the Prince destroyed the Logic surrounding it enough. 

Of course that means they can flat out Destroy Logic, too. This thing is Logical and makes sense? No it’s not, it doesn’t, and you now can’t understand a fucking word of it. Logically the sun must rise if we see it set, right? Nope. Then how does it work? … You don’t know. 

Which is great for enemy encounters! Imagine them not understanding how swords worked, or what the pointy thing on the end is for, or why it hurts when you poke it too much - or just not even understanding why they’re fighting at all. Might as well just… go home. But it can have the same effect on their own Players if they’re not careful. 

Princes of Mind can also Destroy a person’s facade, their Outer Self. This can be a good thing in some situations. They can expose enemies for what they truly are, and can force especially stubborn Players out of hiding. They can frequently reveal who the “one pulling the strings” is, and can probably even cause voice changers or text colour changers to stop working.

But it can have drastic consequences, too. 

Destroying the facade of a Player who isn’t ready yet - such as a Knight - would expose everything they are, everything they’ve ever been, to the world. It’d be like stripping Dave of his cool guy persona and all we see beneath is this traumatised kid who panics every time he hears metal on metal, and can’t go anywhere near his Land as a result. This would cripple his development, and set him back so, so far. 

They can essentially Destroy every front a person holds up and reveal the raw essence of who they are - which might be a really good way to force someone to attain the Ultimate Self, or might just cause that person to come crumbling down under the weight of their own Soul. Or, it might make the Black Queen realise that she is a mother, and her children are dying, and she’s got no idea why she’s continuing this stupid fucking war. 

With all of that said, how does a Prince of Mind become realised? 

It’ll be a very hard process, and one that most Princes struggle with (if not fail outright). They have to accept everything that Mind is - the Logic, the Rationality, the Options, the Outcomes, the Indifference and Apathy, the facades - and recognise that sometimes these things are okay. 

They have to learn not to focus just on themselves and to be a team player, to recognise when their wants and Desires are going to actively cause harm. They need to recognise when they’re going over the top, when Emotions won’t be helpful and when plans have to be followed, when Impulsivity will ruin everything they touch. 

They need to attempt to make plans, or at least to follow through with those that are made for them. Not all the time, naturally, and they’ll quickly be able to tell when an Impulsive or gut action is necessary/acceptable (such as charging before the signal is given because an unaccounted for threat appeared). 

While I don’t think they’d ever make a facade, per se, they’d definitely get a wrangle in their own emotions. They’d still feel them as strongly as before, but be able to Rationalise them; “this event makes me feel angry, but I know it was an accident, and I just need to take a step away to calm down”. They’d recognise their own limits and work with them much better, but they’d still let themselves feel if that was the best course of action.

They’d also likely still be brutally honest, but they’d know when things need to be left alone, when they need to be Indifferent, when someone needs to be Apathetic. It’d be hard - they still Feel strongly and think it’s best to get Emotions out rather than keep them in - but they’ll come to terms with the idea that people cope in their own ways, and that some things just need to be left alone. 

They might even learn to lose their Bias. They’d pay more attention to Logical and Rational thought, and would make a genuine effort to take it all in. They might not be master strategists, but they’ll at least be able to understand how and why a plan works, and follow along with it. They’ll also be much better at recognising when the Greater Good has to be accounted for, and will take a step back from drama if they realise they’re being too biased for/against something.

In other words, they’d just chill out a little, as most Princes do. They’ll still be highly Emotionak, but not over-the-top; they’d still have Biases, but they wouldn’t let it overwhelm them; they’d still act on Impulse, but recognise when they have to listen and stick to plans, too. 

Knight of Mind

I’ve done a full True/Realised/Failed analysis right here for Knight of Mind!

To add some more basic understanding, though, a Knight of Mind is one who Protects/Exploits Mind, which is Rationality, Decisions, Thoughts, a lack of Bias, Indifference, the Outer Self and every Potential. 

A Knight of Mind is one who can Exploit Plans and find their weakspots, often because they know exactly how to make that plan fall apart. They have a fairly good grasp on what most people will Think when a situation is provided, what Options they’ll choose in response, and thus they become brilliant strategists. 

For instance, if a group of Imps are charging towards them, the Knight of Mind can Exploit every single move the Imps are going to make - carefully but purposefully directing them to act or move in ways that will lead to the Outcome the Knight most desires. 

They can do the same thing to their friends, too; if they know a friend is more likely to go somewhere they need to be because of X motivation, they’ll ensure that motivation is used. Something as simple as exploiting the fact that a friend is more likely to listen to one person over another, or that they’ll follow after a random leaf and be distracted from something that might have killed them, comes under this territory.

Essentially, they can Exploit the very basics of a person’s thought processes. If you see a Very Big Rock rolling towards you, you’re going to run. If they know that one Player WON’T run, because they’re an idiot and will try to Fight The Rock, then they can do twofold:

1) They can Exploit that stubbornness for later in the session when they’ll need to make sure someone doesn’t run away or will stubbornly fight 

2) They’ll make sure that specific Player avoids being in that situation to begin with so they don’t Die By Rock - or will Exploit it by ensuring that Player dies and can then be taken to their Quest Bed for Godtiering (especially if they likely would have refused to Godtier under normal circumstances).

On top of that, they can Exploit Rationality by just… talking. Which sounds pretty lame, in a way, but they’re the most likely to be able to talk someone out of something by using Logic. It wouldn’t matter how long it takes, because the Knight can Exploit the Player’s Biases and Logic to get them to come around at the end. E.g. “I know you hate working with x but if you go with them, you’ll be able to show them up and prove to them that they’re wrong about what they think about you, right? And you might not care what they think but you’re trying to befriend/flirt with their BFF, so you’ll be able to influence what the BFF thinks about you”. 

On the other hand, they could also Exploit Rationality to make something else seem Very Logical even when it’s not - which is a good way to divert Bad Player Attention away from the main Plan of the session. For instance, misinformation. They could easily make anyone believe something by just taking it out of context or putting it in a Logical framework that appelas to the Player in question.

Exploiting Mind can also be taken literally. It’s a bit more watery, but they can Exploit the literal Mind of a Player or thing, essentially having a very light form of mind control. It isn’t much, but I could see it working a little like the Narrative Prompts do - that so long as the person isn’t aware that their thoughts/suggestions are coming from the Knight, then they’ll go along with them without fail. 

Of course, a lot of this would be to Protect Mind. So, in some ways, maybe controlling people like this will protect the integrity of their Thoughts, or will protect an overarching Plan that the Knight is desperately trying to put in place. Maybe it’ll stop a brainwashing event from happening, or maybe the Knight can break such brainwashing with their own form of it. 

In some instances, if someone is brainwashed, the Knight could Exploit that to their benefit by using the person’s actions as a way to figure out what the brainwasher is trying to do ahead of time. They’d not be able to tell who or what is doing it, but checking the brainwashee’s motivations/goals while brainwashed would be a good way of figuring it out. 

E.g. Latula could have been able to tell that Kurloz was controlling Meulin using Chucklevoodoos. Not because she could see it, but because she’d eventually pick up that Meulin is doing things that are for the Messiahs, and she really only knows of one clown in their session. 

I think they could even go so far as to Protect things like Sanity and a person’s Options. They can Exploit it, too, and they probably would (if, for instance, Gamzee’s Rage was necessary for a specific event), but I think they’d be more for protecting the Sanity of their Players, since Sanity is a very fickle thing that could easily get out of hand. Options less so, thankfully, and they’re probably very good at nudging people towards certain Options or using the Outcome from an Option to their advantage. 

Knights will always have that facade up that protects them from everything and everyone, and this is much more prominent with the Knight of Mind. They are determined to keep their own Mind safe, and refuse to let people see who they really are. They might even go through several different facades, layers upon layers to hide their deepest Inner Self. They just need to let this go. Let people in, let them see who they are, and be okay with that.

Hiding for too long will make the Knight indecisive and they’ll very quickly lose their way.