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lime-bloods · 6 months ago

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Reading Roxy and Meenah as doppelgangers: a digression on manifestation theory

A brief introduction to manifestation

Manifestation theory sounds scary - the idea that the appearance of trolls and other fantastical creatures might double as insight into the psychological goings-on of our human protagonists is not one that necessarily comes intuitively to all readers. But as blogger azdoine succinctly put it: it's basically "just symbolism". Characters in a story symbolise something, and, understanding that Homestuck is chiefly about its human protagonists, it's logical to presume that the non-human elements symbolise things that are relevant to the protagonists' human experience.

mmmmalo has written at length about what he identifies as the signs linking Meenah to Roxy's inner psychodrama - the things that make Meenah an "esoteric mirror" or "doppelganger" of Roxy. For comprehensiveness' sake, I'm going to outline from scratch what I have identified to be the key signs, and to that end this post is going to discuss the topics of reproduction, reproductive coersion and miscarried pregnancy (with text-pertinent allusions to grooming and incestuous abuse).

One big happy family

Looks like a little girl's room. This all strikes you as a bit odd.

Hussie suggests only briefly in commentary that the young Roxy's (β) upbringing was at the hands of "a younger grandpa Harley" (Book 2, p. 106), but we needn't take their word for it; the scenery here speaks for itself. Roxy grew up in a dark green basement, trained from childhood to become an agent of Harley's goals, just as Damara (β) - and then by succession Meenah (β) - would be trained as English's agents. So, by analogy, Grandpa Harley is Lord English.

This is another point mmmmalo has (in)famously already made, but regardless of your thoughts on the particulars of that specific reading, the key clues pointing to English as a manifestation of the "Grandpa" character are still plain to see. When John says "the worst case scenario" would be "[facing] our grandfatherly paradox-dad as a last boss", he's explicitly referring to he and Jade's family patriarch, but he's also implicitly foreshadowing Lord English - a character who, in the maturity of 2024, we should now all be able to recognise is in one way everyone's grandfatherly paradox-dad. He represents the same upper echelon of paternalistic power on a cosmic scale that Jake (β) represents on a familial level.

Moving this along towards my point: essentially all of Acts 1-4's adult characters form part of this elaborate Nuclear Family Roleplay - a pantomime of the 'Suburban' setting Homestuck is founded upon. In the same way Jake being known as simply "Grandpa" symbolises his arch-patriarchal position, the reason Roxy is known only as MOM for the first five acts of the comic is because this is the archetypal, impersonal role she has been reduced down into. Her relationship with the character named DAD is a direct invocation of this - the two are essentially playing house, living out the gendered roles that have societally/cosmically been laid out for them. The comic's exposition coyly brushes over this, but a deeper look at Alternian culture gives us a much clearer vision of why 'MOM and DAD' make such an iconic matespritship: on Alternia there ARE no real family units, only procreation, and therefore matespritship is understood by the planet's inhabitants as a mere expression of "mating fondness". MOM and DAD make such a cute couple because they are exactly what their assigned titles depict them as - a breeding pair.

This is basically the crux of Roxy's arc right up to the very end of the comic; though Roxy's (Α) post-apocalyptic anxieties about the extinction of the human race bring these thoughts to the forefront, her struggle within the patriarchal structures of the household / society / reality itself has always been that she is only valued as a MOM - as a breeding machine.

The problem therein is that Roxy is seemingly incapable of having children.

The grieving mother

Within Sburb's scheme of universal childbirth, a "void session" is one that simply doesn't have the eggs required to bear fruit. So it's immediately easy to see why the Hero of Void would have similar trouble bringing a pregnancy to term. But certainly not for lack of trying!

Sorry, Jaspers [...] your final resting place is already a mockery. You should have decomposed years ago under a bed of petunias like a normal cat. Not given to a taxidermist and fitted with a tiny, custom-tailored suit, and then stuffed in a coffin built for infants.

When Rose was still very young, Jaspers was found dead. Roxy took the death of her CAT so hard that Rose found it difficult to take her grief seriously, interpreting the cat's elaborate mausoleum as a "structure erected with a spirit of scornful IRONY in response to [a] youthfully innocent request to hold a funeral for the animal." But more than any other, Rose and Roxy's relationship is one defined by miscommunication, and this assessment of Roxy's grief doesn't even seem to hold up to Rose's own recollection of events: later, we hear that the funeral service was something Roxy "insisted upon".

And thus begins probably Homestuck's most clear-cut example of a character's arc stretching across multiple iterations, because from this point - parallel to her neverending quest to settle down with a nice hubby and start a family - Roxy (both β and Α) becomes fixated on bringing back her baby - I mean CAT - only to produce failed mutant after failed mutant. These freaks of nature are not Jaspers, and by the laws of time travel dictating the lives of Paradox Clones they can never be Jaspers. The younger Roxy's first few attempts are literally stillborn; while she's eventually able to create what she calls "healthy felines", she still keeps those monsters locked in the basement they came from, for fear of upsetting her real CAT.

Even as over the course of her Sburb quest and her interactions with the new arrivals from the other session Roxy is seemingly able to address and even overcome some of this obsessive gnostalgia for the things she's lost, her apparent inability to bring to term resurfaces when she's made the reproductive object of another grieving mother.

The lamenting queen (or: the other mother)

Her Imperious Condescension is not so immediately recognisable as part of the family pantomime because the troll social structure doesn't use the same terminology we're familiar with, but she's always been there; just as Lord English is grandfather of grandfathers, Meenah is the family tree's literal grandmatriarch of grandmatriarchs, placed upon the Earth in the guise of Betty Crocker - archetypal nurturing housewife - so that her children's children might seed the events architected by her master. This kind of familial roleplay is exactly how English and Meenah's story is passed down to her descendants; Jake recalls that "the witch used to be married to a terrible man named english." Dirk is insistent, though, that this is a masking of the truth, and that English was only ever "her superior". And while it's true that we can't say for sure a young Meenah (β) slept in the same bed Damara grew up in, the fact that Meenah was only formally recruited after Damara's death should not be mistaken for suggesting that Meenah was not one of English's many daughters. She was "the Lo+rd's slave all alo+ng", even if implicitly.

ARANEA: Once she claimed the throne, she would have to serve for many thousands of years, until the next successor was ready.

For all the differences between Meenah and Roxy's cultures, slavery in the form of motherhood has always been the expectation of the female fuchsia caste, right from the very beginning of Meenah's arc - not as the empress of Alternia, but on Beforus, where the hemospectrum is reframed in far more familial terms:

ARANEA: The jo8 of each 8lood caste was to serve the needs of all those 8elow it. ARANEA: We were to use our progressively greater longevity and wisdom to help the lower castes learn and grow. To listen to them and try to provide whatever they were missing. Like a hierarchy of caretakers with increasing social responsi8ility.

Crucially, this is where Meenah and Roxy appear most to act as reflections but not carbon copies of each other; because where Roxy constantly strives to contort herself into this motherly, wifely role, Meenah perpetually runs from it. Saddled with the "incredi8le responsi8ility" of sitting atop Beforus' structure of care, Meenah "viewed the empress as a glorified slave" and fled to the moon, and even forced into ascendancy on Alternia she finds implicit ways to be absent from her children, spending her life flying further and further away from the planet where they're born and taking every opportunity to hand off any real political authority to clown rappers (a tendency reflected in her human heirs - the company is always passed on to the son and never the daughter).

But when Meenah finally returns home to find her children suddenly massacred by a galactic apocalypse, her arc begins to pull into line with Roxy's in earnest.

A fluffy twitching prison

TT: The rumors say it was her own "pet" who killed them.

From the moment of her dramatic introduction, Meenah's tragedy is that though she can extend life indefinitely, she cannot have back what she's lost, and this continues to be true as she attempts to resurrect her children on a new planet; attempt after attempt, her babies all die. Despite Gl'bgolyb's explicit death in the meteoric holocaust which claimed the rest of her family, the creature has inexplicably returned on the trolls' prospective new homeworld with the apparent sole purpose of making sure Meenah can't carry to term. We're left to our own devices to figure out just what's going on here.

Act 6 of Homestuck introduces Watchmen to its repertoire of intertexts through Jane's poster of cobalt beefcake MANHATTAN. Watchmen's Dr. Manhattan is an omnipotent world-shaping being who flees the responsibilities of Earth to settle on the planet Mars, iconically rendered in beautiful rosy hues by colourist John Higgins - when we hear the story of Meenah's refusal to the call of being Beforus' own god-empress, it's against the backdrop of a photograph of Mars literally hue-shifted pink (see fourth image), and images of Meenah's ship flying over a settlement on the red planet are included among the products advertised by Crockercorp. Far more explicitly, though: Watchmen originated the idea of using the screams of a psychic alien squid as political leverage, and that's why Gl'bgolyb has to be here for this part.

Alongside commenting on the political landscape of the 80s and the fascist undertones of the superhuman archetypes found in comic books, Watchmen pays particular attention to these characters' sexual eccentricities, and particularly their hangups with women. It stands to reason that of the latter closet homosexual Ozymandias' are the most severe, but they also become the most explicit: the artificial 'horrorterror' he uses to usher in his new world order is his fear of the female body made manifest. With its single clitoral eye and sphinctered mouth, the creature is unmistakeably yonic, and included in the horrific psychic imagery it broadcasts to instill fear into the Earth's population are nightmarish images of juvenile aliens chewing their way out of their mother's womb - the very same image trolls use to describe their disgust at human reproduction in The Homestuck Epilogues. Meenah's relationship to Gl'gboylb should be thought of the exact same way; one of the rare insights we receive into the adult Meenah's psyche is that she finds the process of giving birth "revolting", and it's for this reason she insists that humans procreate only through impersonal cloning. Gl'bgolyb reappears as Meenah's own manifestation: alienated from her own lusus after spending centuries literally running away from it, and traumatised by repeated miscarried attempts at reviving her race, she sees her own reproductive organs as nothing more than a hideous, baby-killing monster. It's no coincidence that when we see our single glimpse of the enigmatic emissary to the horrorterrors on Earth, it's with its tendrils wrapped around the throat of a symbolic depiction of the Genesis Frog (see above image) - the baby that grows in the womb of Skaia.

Breaking the cycle

By Act 6, the matriorb has already long been associated with failed and aborted pregnancies, having been rescued from the first mother it killed and taken into the care of Kanaya, who is then blasted through the abdomen just as it's destroyed, symbolically miscarrying through physical trauma. So when Roxy is tasked with finally bringing a dead baby back to life, it's a coalescence of multiple disparate threads.

(p. 6463)

Meenah unwittingly - or perhaps uncaringly - perpetuates a patriarchal cycle which has been repeating for eternity by selecting a younger, more fertile doppelganger to take over the role of mother, and locks Roxy in a dungeon with the intention of making her have the baby in her place. But, cycles being cycles and doppelgangers being doppelgangers, the same problem arises. Roxy can only create mutants.

When Roxy does ultimately overcome this, ending the comic with the culmination of this long, meandering motherhood arc, superficially it's because of time spent blitzing her Void chakras in the space outside of reality, and with the help of Calliope as a Muse. But in the time Roxy spends in the white nothingness, she's crucially able to take steps to end her own obsession with reviving the past - not just by burying a version of her own mother, who she spent so much time hoping to resurrect in sprite form, but also in sharing a tearful reunion with the literal ghost of her dead CAT. As with so much of Homestuck, the key to ending the suffering is breaking the self-perpetuating cycle that causes it; made literal, in this case, by Roxy's slaying of her dark mirror image using a sword known for splitting vinyl records - symbolically, for breaking the ever-turning circle of time. And in passing the matriorb off to Kanaya rather than letting Meenah have control of it, Roxy never actually brings this baby to term herself, either - at the end of the day, the minutiae of biology aren't really what motherhood is about:

ROXY: the way i see it is you shouldnt have needed to worry about makin the thing ROXY: i think it will be challenging enough like... ROXY: hatching it?? ROXY: and tending to all the stuff that comes next ROXY: isnt that basically being responsible for the preservation of an entire race of people?

Physically overcoming her demonic doppelganger isn't the end-all of Roxy's struggle with gendered expectation, either. Roxy's complicated relationship with their sex and their motherhood, introduced to us only indirectly through the relationship between Meenah and Gl'bgolyb, becomes central to their understanding and exploration of their own gender identity as they grow into adulthood. Anxieties about the inherent femininity of a childbearing body - the glorified slavery that is seemingly inherent to the cosmically-assigned role of the mother - give way to an understanding of the human body as "something altogether different [...] A flesh machine" with "a specific, practical purpose."

But I digress

The threads running between Roxy and Meenah exist along the types of lines most Homestuck readers will already be familiar with in some form. When two characters share a class, or an aspect, we expect that traits from one character can be used to analyse and further our understanding of the other. Manifestation theory simply asks that we look for even more subtle and non-literal connections between characters than these - a process which Andrew Hussie themself has identified in authorial commentary as part of what they call "persona alchemy". (Book 4, p. 151)

Roxy and Meenah's particular relationship, though, should also be thought of in terms of another phenomenon which is central to Homestuck's structure - escalation. Homestuck constantly reorders and transmutes the alchemical elements that compose one character into 'new' characters, but it also consistently stretches these fundamental concepts to their logical extremes. Just as a game that destroys planets works its way up to the destruction of universes, John striving to leave his house in Act 1 should be taken as the logical precursor to our heroes leaving reality itself in Act 7. The forces keeping these children in their houses - essentially the story's first ever antagonists - are their parents, and as we scale this story up to a cosmic level, we find that the cosmos is dictated by the same suburban family structures; by celestial GRANDPAs and MOMs, raising/grooming/training/neglecting entire worlds or even galactic empires at once.

By allowing us to meet not only the teen MOMs and BROs and NANNAs, but also the teen Lord Englishes and the teen Condesces, the scratch takes us in the opposite direction, reducing these faceless, larger-than-life figures into their smallest, weakest, most fundamentally human forms. And in some cases, as in Roxy's, this creates the opportunity for the child-form to confront and overcome the very darkest of their potential; by being the one to put Meenah down, Roxy not only liberates herself from her own expectations for what a mother has to be and do, but shatters the very cosmic image of MOM itself, breaking the mold that reality had set in stone for her entire sex - her entire caste.

#homestuck #analysis #roxy #meenah #jaspers

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ggidolsmuts · 1 year ago

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What Would Zeus Do (WWZD) - ARTMS

A/N: So I wrote this on a whim, kinda wanted to do another Stud(y)ing story for the start of the year, just so you know what to expect. I couldn't help but keep thinking about the whole Artemis and Zeus thing, it fit too well, and WWZD is too funny in my head. The Seasons Greetings images coming out was very fortunate timing, It also fits in the I Never Die, I Only Breed theme, consider this as "DLC" for that game.

You wake up in a room—there is a door, there is a mirror, you're in the bed. Wait, you finished the game, didn't you? You wake up and go to the mirror, only to see the words "NEW DLC" pop up. Best of all, it's free! You accept the DLC and it loads immediately, and everything changes.

You're in a room, except there is no floor, no walls, only clouds all around you. You can walk on air? You look around, only to see a much more gaudy and decadent bed, not unlike Minnie's throne bed from before, and a bejeweled mirror, encrusted with diamonds and sapphires and emeralds. It even has a name—Erised. On intuition you stand in front of the mirror, and golden words float to the surface.

Thank you for playing the game, and as our thanks, please enjoy this sandbox DLC. You play as Zeus, everything is in your godly power. Go forth and procreate!

There is a list of names, but not any of the common names you recognize in Greek mythology. It just says:

*Joseon Goddesses*

Jinsoul

Haseul

Kim Lip

Heejin

Choerry

Some odd names to be sure, you were expecting something closer to Hera or Aphrodite, but Zeus doesn't discriminate, and neither will you. You tap on the first name, and the Mirror of Erised becomes a door. You step through to find the first goddess.

"Hello, you must be Zeus?"

"Yes, you are Jinsoul?"

"Yes, shall we?" She unclasps her dress, and it falls off her body, revealing her divine figure.

"Yes, we shall." She removes your toga, and your chiseled body presses against her suppleness. You lean in and suckle on her bosom, and she cups herself, offering more of her teat to you. You tilt her backwards, and as you do clouds form behind Jinsoul, cushioning the tilt. You split her open, and the gorgeous goddess gasps and grinds, a leg hooked around your hip.

"Yes, lord yes!" Her black hair splayed against the clouds, you take her repeatedly, bringing her to climax as she shuts her eyes tightly. She walls grip you even tighter, and with a grunt you unload inside of her. You pull out, still hard of course, but you assume your job is done until she sighs and half puts on her dress again.

"That's it? I didn't know Zeus was wont to leave a lady unbred."

"What? Of course not, you will be with child."

"Oh no, I know my own body the best. And I'm only fertile, godfucked or not, when it's raining." Your seed still no doubt trailing down her thighs Jinsoul walks towards you, expectant, expecting to be expecting soon.

"You were waiting to tell me that weren't you? So you could have more than one round with me?"

"What's the harm in that, we both know how this ends." The edge of her lip curls up as you summon some heavier clouds.

"What would you prefer, a summer shower, a gloomy thunderstorm, or a misty monsoon?"

"I think a summer shower would be nice." With a wave of your hand the sun comes back into view, an appropriate amount of rainfall splattering both of you. The dress starts to cling to her, seeming to enhance her curves even more, arguably even more enticing than seeing her naked. Her nipples seem to stiffen as her dress gets more and more translucent. You grab the top of her dress and pull, ripping and peeling the front off like wet paper. She might have been outraged at the dress' destruction, but you don't give her a chance to complain.

"Shall we?" Jinsoul merely has time to nod as you thrust yourself into her once more. She is much more expressive and sensitive to your movements this time, her walls velvet and creamy, primed for fertility. Jinsoul sings in the rain, moaning melodically and huskily while you drive yourself ever deeper. Shreds of her dress start falling off, and Jinsoul gradually loses the shreds of coherence she had left.

"Oh yes! That's it, give it to me, I'm yours, I'm yours!" Every pump of your hips pushes Jinsoul to a tingling, toe-curling, throat-wrenching orgasm, the rainfall acting as an aphrodisiac for her. The cloud she's lying on has reclined, and now you're pounding her from above, like mere mortals mating. But the two of you are gods and goddesses, and each clash of your hips is as loud as a thunderclap, and every orgasm she reaches as thrilling and electric as lightning. The two of you go from singing to fucking to breeding in the rain. Every time Jinsoul peaks her walls grasps you heavenly, a soft velvet tug on your shaft—you respond in kind, with a warm surge of seed. Despite the warm shower overhead, your coupling is more akin to a hurricane—wild, wet, and destructive. With limitless stamina and inhuman abundance, you pump her with a womb's worth of cum every thrust, but with the high speed of fucking, with the rapid push and pull of your hips, all it does is leave your connection a complete mess of cum and juice, pooling between her legs, smearing it all over her now-creamy thighs.

"Bred?" Jinsoul can only nod, breathless, vocal cords rough and strained, the skin around her hips now pink and red from your fucking. By the time you pull out, there is more of your cum outside of her than inside, yet not once did you finish outside of her heaven-sent chambers. She barely notices you pulling out, that's how full she is with your seed. Thick white fluid continues to spill from between her lips, it is a wonder how she could hold that much, or how you could put that much into her.

"I will be with your child now, so you'll be my consort right?"

"You know that's not how Zeus works."

"Really? Aww, not even for your goddess Jinsoulie?" You wince at the sudden cuteness, not used to goddesses behaving like that, but you agree.

"Fine, I will be back."

You go down the list, stepping immediately into Haseul's domain.

"Hello Haseul." The goddess that greets you is more dimunitive in size, but curvier, her hips ripe for childbearing.

"Hello." She agrees with your silent assessment, removing her tight dress and moving towards you. "May I taste?" This time it is your turn to be taken at speed as her mouth engulfs your length, perfectly sized to hit the back of her throat.

"Mmm Jinsoul, delicious." Haseul murmurs, guiding you to a seated position before diving back in.

"You know the taste of another goddess?"

"We make do when someone such as yourself is not available."

"That is something I should, nngh, be sure to remedy," you groan as she licks all along your shaft, replacing Jinsoul's slick with her saliva. She uses her hands to stroke you, yet you do not give her what she wants.

"Will you not give me your seed?"

"It is not meant to travel this path."

"Yet I wish to go the path untraveled."

"It will require more work."

"I understand," Haseul pushes her breasts together, and with her soft globes around your cock and a warm mouth around your head, you allow yourself to be milked, fucking her tits and mouth simultaneously.

"Does this— Ah! Please you?" You catch her by surprise as she briefly stops to ask a question, and you splatter her face with a load.

"Now it does." Haseul smiles and gets back to work, and just as with Jinsoul, you allow yourself to cum freely, slowly filling her tummy with an unstopping stream of seed—milk from the work of her breasts. When she is finished getting a fill of you, Haseul has a cumbaby in her tummy, and she is ready and eager for a real baby.

"I am ready."

"Good, I am still ready." Haseul gets up and straddles you, and with a loud moan she sinks on your cock, only to stop two-thirds of the way in—how did she manage to fit you in her mouth?

"Y-You are huge!" she whines, trying, and failing to fit more of you into her.

"Your lower mouth is not as practiced as your upper one, I will help you." You grab Haseul by the waist and start moving her up and down your cock. She bites her lower lip and hisses in discomforting pleasure as you manipulate her on your shaft, and with a few kisses and some slower fucking, she relaxes and begins to enjoy the sheer stretch of her body around you. "There you go, feel good?"

"Yeah, yes, much better."

"It'll feel even better when you open up. Now cum for me Haseul." With your firm finger on her clit she cums willingly, and through the process of her walls undulating around you, you're able to push just that little deeper into her. And then you ask her to cum again, and again she does—each time she does so you get deeper into her, and each orgasm in turn becomes even stronger than the last, her pussy clenching around more and more of your cock.

"It keeps feeling even better! Ah! It feels amazing, like—oh my god, something's coming, something's coming!" Haseul squirms on top of you, the feeling in her abdomen growing to the boiling—no, exploding—point.

"Just let go." With one arm wrapped around her slim midriff you pull her down sharply, and with the other you apply a little pressure on her clit. Haseul jerks, screams, and then gushes all over your cock. Her slick splashes up your body, and mid-orgasm you're able to draw Haseul even further down on you, your head nudging the entrance to her womb. You watch her eyes roll, and her head lolls back as she succumbs to a double orgasm, spraying your stomach with even more juice and creaming over your shaft. She goes limp almost falling off your shaft, and you have to support her, holding her close as she shudders and comes back from her higher plane of pleasure.

"Y-You didn't, you haven't?" Haseul gasps, unable to piece together a coherent sentence quite yet.

"Not yet, I wanted to make sure you feel it." When you feel her fingers grip the back of your neck more firmly you begin pulling her up and down your cock, making Haseul the Goddess of Cocksleeves as you sheath yourself fully inside her each time. "You feel that?" you ask, grinding your head against her cervix and making her whine at the friction. "That feeling means you've taken me fully."

"It's hitting me really deep, it feels so different, but good?"

"I'm glad it does, we should celebrate your accomplishment." Haseul crosses her feet behind your back, and together the two of you saw her tight body up and down your shaft. Tugging on your neck, Haseul leans back, tensing her core, giving both of you a perfect view of her body rocking back and forth. "Look down, you look beautiful like this."

Haseul opens her eyes dreamily (When did she even close them? She no longer remembers and it doesn't matter), and what she sees almost drives her to an orgasm immediately—there's a visible imprint between her legs, changing in size as you continue to bring her down on you. She can see exactly where her pussy ends, the round end of your shaft bulging deep inside her, followed by that tingling sensation that makes her gasp and moan. Seeing herself get fucked in such a visceral fashion spikes her arousal, and she tightens around you.

"Finish in me!" Haseul pleads, her eyes trained at your connection, watching herself get literally stretched each time you shove yourself in her. "I want to see you cum, I want to watch you breed me!" She watches her mound bulge once more, and this time it doesn't go away as you hold her down and explode. Haseul watches herself get bred for a brief second, before the warm explosion inside makes her eyes roll into her head again. She whimpers and tightens around you in her own orgasm, and the two of you ride out your peaks as she accepts all of your load into her fertile body.

When she opens her eyes again the bulge has disappeared, a sense of emptiness between her legs as you gently pull her off you. It would become a hunger newly awakened, and Haseul is at your side even as you seek to move on.

"You'll be back, yes?"

"Of course. I would just like to meet the other goddesses first."

"Kim Lip?"

"Yes, that is me." A pale-skinned goddess awaits you, her hair similarly light-colored, unlike the goddesses before her. Yet it seems to shimmer, almost fluid in nature. She seemed delicate, yet as you wrapped an arm around her, playing with the strap of her dress, you could feel the strength and steel within her.

"May I have you?" you ask. She was a goddess to be charmed, not taken.

"Oh? You're not going to grab me and bounce me all over your lap, like you did with Haseul?"

"Only if you want me to."

"I do not."

"So I figured," you murmur into her ear, hoping to get her a little hot and bothered. "I ask again, may I have you?"

"Maybe, but now's not a good time of the month for me."

"Oh, are you on your—" Kim Lip tisks you and pushes your head with a finger.

"No silly, I'm a goddess, not mortal. Jinsoul is one of my sisters, we can be a bit... odd."

"Odd?"

"Yes. Her desires and fertility spike only when it rains. I am not dissimilar."

"I made it rain for her, I can command whatever weather you wish."

"Ah, I am not that straightforward. My desires wax and wane, much like the moon, so come back and ask me that when the moon phases are most favorable."

"You will have me move the moon and the stars for you?" Kim Lip laughs airily, the childish giggle almost ill-fitting her beauty.

"Oh I doubt you capable of that, I will have you wait for the stars to align."

"I am impatient." You raise a hand to the heavens, and with some focus, you alter the orbit of the moon. It has a tangible effect on Kim Lip, a light pink hue spreading across her face. Her hair turns even lighter, as if reflecting the brightness of the moon.

"W-What did you do?" she stammers, feeling the heat go through her body as the full moon bares itself in the night sky.

"I am impatient and I am capable, so I have moved the moon and the stars for you." You push the straps off her shoulders, and Kim Lip doesn't resist you as the dress slips to her waist. The flush spreads to the rest of her chest, tipped pink on her breasts. "I wish to have you."

"You are reckless, moving the moon like that will have consequences! The tides, they will shift, the mortals—"

"I care not for mortals, I want you." You capture her lips in a kiss, one that's not urgent, but just fervent enough to leave her wanting. Your hands explore her body, touching what you could of her. She grabs your arm, but doesn't stop you, merely holding you within reach.

"Make it a new moon, and you will have me."

"So be it." You raise a hand to the moon once more, and you watch it pass through the phases quickly before going dark, invisble in the night sky. When you look down at Kim Lip again, her hair has turned jet black, and her eyes are dark with need. The pink flush on her pale complexion has turned a darker crimson, and her lips are ruby red—this time she leans towards you, capturing your lips in her kiss.

"I'm yours."

You rip her dress off, and immediately she has a leg hooked around your hip. Her slick comes in waves as you rub your shaft againt her core, teasing her just that little bit more. You want Kim Lip to want it, and you are delighted when she reaches down between your bodies, pushing your shaft to oh-so-satisfyingly enter her on the next rock of your hips. You pause briefly as her eyes screw shut, but they quickly open again, her pupils dark as the new moon.

"Keep going, don't stop." You fuck her thoroughly—a needy Kim Lip is an ambitious lover, and her positions shift just as the tides do. One moment you are humping into her with short thrusts, the next she has you on your back, bouncing on your lap as she desires, your hands merely holding her thighs for support. Then she has you top her, her leg on your shoulder as you make her do a split, even as you split her open. Just as with Jinsoul you are cumming freely with Kim Lip, the two of you extracting pleasure from one another, her body readily accepting your load, only to have it spill out of her with a change in position.

"Am I fit to bear your offspring?" she asks, almost challenging you as you pound down into her.

"That was never in question."

"Then take me under an eclipse, when the light and dark intermix, just as we do now, that will be most desirable."

"You ask a lot of me," you grunt as Kim Lip pushes herself into a sitting position, staring down at you like the moon shines over Earth.

"And I'll give a lot more to you." Looking past her at the moon, you try to ignore her wet sheath around you as you move sun and moon for her, and for a moment the galaxy revolves around Earth as you align everything for her. Kim Lip looks up at the resulting eclipse, and when she turns to look at you again she is glowing, her hair now a dark brown, mixed with streaks of light.

"It is beautiful, thank you."

"No more than you are."

"I want to see it as we continue." Kim Lip gets off you, going on all fours. Her intent clear, you take her from behind, pulling on her long hair so that her head tilts to the heavens. "Yes, just like that! Keep going like that!" Waves of force ripple from her thighs as you slam your hips into hers—no doubt you have wrecked the world with your callous movement of the universe, but all you care about right now is wrecking Kim Lip's world. Her body twitches as she cums, and the eclipse goes blurry when the pleasure becomes too great, when a small supernova bursts forth in her womb, breeding new life inside of her.

"You may also look at it like this." You release her hair and grab her arms, using them as reins as you continue to pound her from behind, leaving another splatter of seed in her.

"I am sore," she gasps, so you accomodate her wishes and lie on your back, pulling her on top of you. You thrust up into her from below, her breasts rocking in the eclipse's moonlight and her thighs glistening from the same light source. It is a lewd position, but just as the werewolf turns beastial under the moon, Kim Lip's cries become more ungodly beneath the celestial phenonmenon. She turns away from the eclipse to find her new obsession, her new object of desire—you.

"It's so good like this, never stop, never stop!" Her voice cracks as you burst in her once more. "Yes, breed me, breed me every cycle, I'll bear all your little offspring!" With triggered instincts you roll out from under Kim Lip, only to take her from above, to hug her and pound down into her the way she desires.

Kim Lip's glassy eyes continue to look up at the eclipse, her ears fed a constant stream of your whispers, happy ones of the offspring she will bear, filthy ones of how else you would take her, interjected with spikes of orgasmic ecstasy, of your seed filling her womb over and over. With one last sharp thrust you break the hug, eclipsing the eclipse, leaning down to kiss her passionately as you claim her one last time. Kim Lip trembles as her orgasm washes over her like a huge tide, your thick seed surging into her with finality.

There is a calm after the storm as she cuddles against you, stroking your chest like a satiated lover.

"You have to go to the other goddesses?" she asks, notable disappointment in her voice.

"Yes, but I will be back."

"Look up at the night sky, and remember to think of me."

"Of course."

You move on to the next goddess, and time seems to reverse when you see Heejin.

"You are dressed oddly, Heejin, I assume?" She's dressed in a very distinct fashion, her garment different from what you saw earlier.

"네, 전 희진인데? 넌 제우스이지?"

You don't understand her question, so you merely nod.

"나랑 교배하로 왔구나!"

You still don't understand her, but it probably didn't matter as she proceeds to discard her clothing before getting on all fours, much like Kim Lip did.

"아까 봤어, 난 이자세가 좋아!" She smacks her own butt for emphasis. It is all a bit weird, and you're wrongfooted by not understanding her at all, but you do as she desires and take her from behind. You thrust into her wildly, but it seems to have little effect on her, and she merely stays in place, accepting your thrusts with no reaction. Before long you cum inside her, but all that does is to worsen her mood, and she turns to glare at you.

"아씨, 이런 줄알고,리듬있게해!"

"Algorithm? What are you saying, I don't understand you at all." Heejin blinks rapidly before continuing.

"Oh, you don't speak my language?"

"I do not."

"My apologies, I was saying, you should do it with rhythm. I did not feel anything because there was nothing to build on." You still yourself and follow her instruction, pushing into her with a leisurely tempo, but Heejin is not satisfied.

"No! You're half a second off between thrusts!"

"What is this, a video game? You need me to be that precise? Why don't you show me how you want it then!"

Annoyed as you were, it wasn't a bad deal, and you get to watch Heejin's fine legs, hips, and ass push back on to you.

"You see? Like this! 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3!" You keep her count in your head, and soon you are able to match Heejin's movements, thrusting forward as she pushes herself back on to you. Soon she's softly moaning, and you have to resist the urge to go faster while she gets wetter and easier to penetrate.

"Can I go faster?"

"What why? This is good for me!" She punctuates this with a louder moan, and one of her legs kick up and shake as she cums without warning. "See?"

"But it doesn't do anything for me."

"That's not my problem, you're the one that came to me. So I set the terms, and I'm not letting you go now." Turns out, Heejin has just as much strength as Kim Lip, and she easily seats herself above you. "Let me have my fun first, and then you can go ahead and breed me, okay?"

Well, at least I don't have to move planets for her, you think to yourself, and you shrug and nod. Heejin begins to rock herself back and forth on your cock—she is tight and wet and pleasurable, but the speed she moves at does absolutely nothing for you. Everything about her helps visually—Heejin running her hands through her hair as she smiles and cums on top of you; Heejin grabbing her own tits, squeezing them hard when she cums on you again; Heejin biting her lower lip and winking at you when she cums a third time; but the lack of speed just means that Heejin leaves you with the bluest case of blue balls a god has ever experienced. She's not even edging you—you'd have to get close to orgasm for her to be edging you.

"Damnit Heejin, let me take my pleasure!"

"Just a couple more." She spreads her legs, rubbing her clit brazenly for you as she gets herself off. And just when you thought she is done Heejin turns around to ride you in reverse now, and all you can see is her back muscles twitching and feeling her pussy grip you when she cums. The only reason you're not going soft is because you're too hard to go soft right now, your balls feeling like the planets you just moved for Kim Lip. You grunt when Heejin falls back against you, and thankfully she whispers tiredly in your ear.

"Okay, I had my fun, you can have yours now."

"Yeah? I can go fast, without rhythm?"

"Yes I'm— ah!" Heejin moans when you push up into her to test the waters. "I'm sensitive enough that I'll have fun too, just treat that as me warming up."

"That was warmup? All of that?"

"Would you rather I fake my orgasm while you just hammer away at me?"

"And here I thought Jinsoul and Kim Lip were the odd ones..." Heejin giggles as she gets off you, allowing you to direct her back on to all fours.

"They are, I'm just the weird one, and the stubborn one. You may be a god, but I'm the goddess, so if you want me, you do things my way or not at all. And you did do things my way, so now you get to get your way too." She wiggles her hips at you, two manicured fingers spreading open her lips.

"Come on then, daddy." A deep moan rumbles through her when you push in, and you finally get to fuck Heejin the way you want.

"Oh yes, pump away with no rhythm, you could never play OSU, or Superstar Loona as well as I can with rhythm like that! But it's okay, you'll be daddy for me right? Or since you're a god, does that make you god-daddy?"

"I kept quiet while you had your fun, you should shut up while I take mine." You put a hand around Heejin's throat, firmly choking the quips out of her. That seems to only help her along though, as her pussy contracts around you with the same rhythm that you choke her with, the petulant goddess seizing up in pleasure. You smash yourself into her repeatedly without a care, and you let yourself go in short order.

There is no Noah in Heejin's body, but even if there was, no ark would have saved her eggs from your thick cum flooding her womb, entering her in a flood of epic proportions, your wrath unleashed ecstatically into her fertile chalice. You grab her hair and tug at her scalp, and a low rasp escapes her as Heejin takes her final breath for a while. Another thrust into her, and you dunk her head down into the clouds, muffling her cry while you let another wave of cum rip through her.

And another, and another. You take your pleasure just like Heejin took hers. By the end of it she is sprawled on her back, coughing and hacking while you pull out and feed the last of your load down her throat. She leaks cum from both holes, properly disciplined and bred.

"Ack, ugh, come back, I'm not done with you yet!" Heejin shouts hoarsely as you walk away.

"Later, keep yourself entertained!" Heejin wipes your load off her face, only to put her cum-covered fingers back between her legs. Her sense of rhythm is completely wrecked as she cums easily from a few pumps of her own hand—she would be easily entertained until you come back.

"Hey!" You're immediately tackled by the next goddess as she swings her arms around your neck. "Hi hi hi!"

"Choerry?"

"Yes, hiiiii!" She smiles brightly at you. "Are you here to have fun?" Choerry sits in your lap, and she's kissing you eagerly, full of enthusiasm. You respond to the kiss, running a hand up her thighs. She hits your hand, bursting into giggles. "Omo, what are you here to do hmm?"

"I am... here to, you know, mmph—" Choerry hushes you with a hand to your mouth.

"If you want to do that, you'll have to do what I say, okay? Don't worry, I won't be like Heejin, leaving you to explode! You'll get to have fun too." So she's not as innocent as she seems to be.

"Sure, I'll play along."

"Good. Now, answer me this one question. Am I sexy?" She pouts and puts a finger to her lips, a cute expression on her face. You sense that it is a rhetorical question.

"You are."

"Who is?" She slips the cardigan off her shoulders.

"Choerry is."

"She is what?" Woops, her finger just slid a strap off her dress.

"Sexy."

"Good, now put it all together." She twirls the remaining strap around her finger.

"Choerry is sexy." The strap comes off, but she has an arm across her top, keeping you at bay even as your hands run along her shoulders and neck.

"Where am I sexy?"

"Everywhere." You pull her arm away, and the dress slides down partially, revealing her chest to you. Before you can dive in she places a hand on your forehead, pushing you back.

"Ah ah ah, you've only earned this peek."

"You said you wouldn't be like Heejin," you whine, almost as childish as the game Choerry's playing.

"I want you to be more exact, what part of me is sexy?" She puckers her lips, blowing a kiss at you.

"Your lips?"

"Omo really? I never thought you would say that!"

"What—" With a silky move Choerry gets off your lap and positions herself at hip-level to you.

"You should fuck it then, show me that you really do find it sexy." She helps you get over the surprise request, pushing her mouth over your cock. Choerry is true to her word, and quickly you blow a load down her throat, and she makes sure to pull out mid-spurt, ensuring that her lips have some of your frosting on them.

"Your face is sexy too."

"Really? Aww you're too kind!" She sucks you off again, this time making sure that you're aimed all over her pretty and sexy features. When you're done she quickly wipes the cum off her face before getting back in your lap, this time deliberately letting her dress hang off her waist.

"Where else do you find me sexy?"

"Your chest is sexy too."

"Really? Would you like me to squeeze them together like this?" She pushes them together, purposely and naughtily making an up and down motion with them—Choerry is anything but innocent.

"Mmhmm, yes, very sexy Choerry." She breaks out into a wide smile again and sinks back to her knees, this time trapping your shaft between her breasts. The soft squish and smooth skin of her moving globes are wonderful, and you cover her tits with cum as well.

"My hands are sexy too right?" You agree, and Choerry has the perfect lotion on her hands soon after, and she rubs it all along her arms. You are happy to play along with her as she pulls her dress up her legs.

"What about my feet?"

"They're pretty."

"Are they sexy?" She cups them together, the space between her soles perfect for sliding something, or some cock, through it.

"I suppose so." Choerry leans back and begins stroking your cock with her foot, and between her legs you can see her want glistening and shining through—you're going to have lots of fun with her. After covering her feet with more lotion, you comment on her thighs, and all pretense goes out the window. Choerry finally slides her dress off, showing off her creamy thighs and curvy hips as she clambers on top of you. Much like before she squeezes your cock between her thighs, and with a nod from her she allows you to start thrusting. You confirm just how wet she is as your shaft slides right against her lips, her slick coating your cock and making a mess of her thighs.

"You love this don't you?" you ask Choerry, her eyes closed and lips slightly parted, much like her lower lips below.

"I love it, I love feeling sexy. Make me feel sexier than Jinsoul and Kim Lip and I'm yours." She is equally as odd as her sisters, her eyes open once more, smiling brightly even as her darker desires are stoked and burning and dripping all over you—the goddess is innocently seductive. You grope her ass, squeezing a cheek and a giggle from Choerry. Her thighs close more around you, her legs twisting to give your cock maximum friction. She begs you to tell her more about how sexy she is, and you oblige her.

"So seductive Choerry, by now I would have plowed any of the other goddesses but I'm letting you make me wait. I can feel how wet you are, it makes you even sexier." You keep a tight grip on her ass, continuing to thrust up between her thighs. She whispers for more, and you give her more thrusts and more dirty whispers. "Everything about you is sexy, both outside and inside."

"You haven't mmm... you don't know about inside yet."

"I have no doubt you will be. I bet you're sexy when you cum too right? Cum for me Choerry!" Between the rubbing of your shaft against her and your filthy praise Choerry nips your neck to muffle a loud cry as she cums on your command, coating your shaft with even more slick. You grunt into her neck and join her in climax, spewing your load all over the insides and back of her thighs.

"That was great! Am I sexy elsewhere too?" Ever energetic, Choerry is eager to keep going.

"I heard your back is sexy too." She scrambles to get on all fours, and sexily she draws her hair over one shoulder, revealing her flawless back to you. "Perfect, your butt looks so sexy too." You rest your cock between her cheeks.

"You can do my ass, do it like you did my thighs." She squishes and spreads her cheeks, enticing you to do just that. Your hardness rubs against her rosebud as you start hot dogging Choerry while she touches herself. When she cums and some of her slick splashes on your balls, you grunt and splatter her back with your own thick slick, making sure to spread some of it over her butt.

"Now are you convinced you're sexy?" you ask—by now you've covered pretty much every surface of Choerry you can get at.

"Only on the outside," she teases, sitting in your lap. "What about inside, people talk about inner beauty, but what about inner sexy?"

"Well, I guess there's only one thing to do." You line yourself up for Choerry, and she does the rest, letting out a decadent "Ah..." as she sinks on to you. It is a snug fit, and you get to enjoy Choerry's little gasps of joy and discovery while she squirms and grinds on top of you, just to get you in a little deeper.

"Mmm..." A much sexier moan escapes her when your tip nudges against her cervix, and the fit goes from snug to perfect. "Is the inside of me sexy?"

"It's perfect, you feel so good around me."

"Mm mm," Choerry shakes her head. "Say it's sexy."

You wrap an arm around her midriff, applying a gentle rocking motion to get her to move more, to start fucking herself on you as you feed her filthy little nothings.

"Your insides feel so sexy, like I'm going to melt in you. I don't want to pull out ever, and I won't, because your womb?" You jerk up a little, making sure she feels you pushing against it. "It's so sexy too, I'm going to pump everything into you."

"Tell me more, more more more! I want to hear many more people say it!"

"Sexy Choerry!" "Choerry you're so sexy!" "You're the sexiest goddess!" Choerry looks around, and she sees copies of you, all saying the same things. You can sense the smile in the kiss she gives you.

"You're the best!"

"And you're the sexiest." She's even wetter now, slick flowing down her thighs as she gets even more excited by the praises coming from your copies.

"Are they real copies?"

"No, they're copies, but not real."

"But are they touchable?" The dark lust springs once more from her eyes as Choerry gets to the point. "Can they fuck me?"

You beckon one over, and Choerry pushes you down before hugging you tightly.

"Have him fuck my ass. It's all his, or well, yours!" You instantly feel a different type of pressure as the copy positions itself behind Choerry, and the nubile goddess is still as she feels the exact same cock in her pussy open up her ass. The two of you do your best to take her together, but it is difficult in the position, and you can't really do much but wiggle and grind your hips below Choerry.

"Ah, I feel so full... so sexy!" she moans, the pressure in her butt never going away as the copy thrusts slowly in and out of her.

"You are sexy, taking two of me at once? Amazing. But I want you to feel better." You stop things briefly to stand up, and in short order Choerry has her arms around your neck, her legs around your hips, and her butt in your hands as she is sandwiched nicely between you and your copy.

"Gyaahhh!" The new position allows gravity to help Choerry get stuffed even better, and with one single mind at work the two of you bounce her stupid on top of both cocks, always making sure that she feels sexy by having one shaft push in as the other one pulls out.

"Ohmygod, it feels even better!" Her head rests against your copy's shoulder, and she makes out with it, giving you access to her neck and chest in return. You leave a few marks on her skin, something that the copies will never get to do, and with your godly branding complete, you get back to the main task at hand. Choerry's divine figure is rattled back and forth between the two of you, each taking turns to pound her deeper onto the other cock.

"Guh fuck... I, I can't stop cumming..." She's clinging to your neck, drooling on your shoulder, spittle flying randomly with each hammer of Choerry's body against the anvils. All the while your other copies are still at work, the praises of Choerry still resonating in the air. "I-I want to feel them too, want them to make me feel sexy."

You have Choerry lie down on your copy, it's cock still buried in her ass. You take up residence in her heavenly chambers once more before the other three copies move over. Two of them take Choerry's hands and wrap them around their own cocks, and she begins stroking them mindlessly. The last copy kneels and pushes his shaft against her cherry red lips, and she obliges with her mouth. Choerry has never felt sexier in her life as she services all of "you" at once, dealing admirably with your cock in each of her holes, yet still managing to stroke the two in her hands.

"You look so sexy right now Choerry, if only the other goddesses could see you." Her mouth is too full to reply, but she clenches around you harder than before. "Would you like them to see us?"

"Mm! Mm!" She looks at you and nods, jerking the cock in her mouth as well.

"Choerry!" "Oh my god!" "What are you doing!" "Ahahaha!" Jinsoul, Haseul, Kim Lip, and Heejin appear, exclaiming at what they see before them. Choerry pops the shaft out of her mouth to address them.

"See! I am sexy, not cute! I—mmph!" Your copy takes Choerry's mouth back for their own use, and the other four goddesses are left incredibly aroused at the display in front of them. Choerry's body undulates in an erotic yet haphazard fashion, yourself and each copy manipulating a part of her for your own pleasure—you push her hips down with each thrust; your copy drives her hips up as it fucks up into her ass; the one at her mouth jerks her head, a hand in her hair rocking her back and forth; the other two drive her arms, helping her stroke them faster by thrusting into her hands. Faster and faster all of you work Choerry, and it all comes to a head at once.

"Mm! Gluk! Mmmf! Ngh mmmmmm! Pffhhhuck!" All of you plunge into Choerry with finality, and the instant explosion of cum inside and across her body makes her orgasm that much harder. Her legs jerk and thrash about, her toes curl, and she squirts against your abs even as her own chest is covered with two thick loads. When she goes limp, the goddesses watch you and your copies pull away, leaving Choerry leaking cum from all holes and dripping cum everywhere on her body.

"Put it back in, I want more, I want more... No, don't, mine!" You turn to see the goddess walk towards you, and each of them reaches for a you-copy. "Don't take..." Choerry pouts, but you pull her into your embrace, whispering in her ear.

"Let them go Choerry, you were so sexy, you made them all horny." Your point is illustrated from seeing the goddesses in different positions—Jinsoul has her legs wrapped around you, letting herself get carried and fucked; Haseul is on all fours, letting you mount her; Kim Lip has her back pressed against a cloud wall, letting you pound her into it; Heejin is on her side, one leg raised lewdly in the air while you fuck her sideways.

"Really? It was because of me?"

"Mmhmm, we should enjoy the show, besides, I want you to myself." You sit up against a cloud wall of your own making, allowing Choerry to lean back and draw your arms around her. You rub her clit lazily while she strokes you, just watching the orgy unfold in front of you.

"Did I look like that earlier?" she wonders aloud, as she see Jinsoul's expression twist in pleasure; Haseul's head jerks back and she let's out a cry as she cums; Kim Lip's biting her lower lip, low groans and little whimpers escaping every time she is pounded—her hair changes shades erratically, like she's losing her mind; Heejin rhythm is similarly off, sometimes moving fast, sometimes undulating slow, but always cumming, always drooling, her thighs and your shaft are shining with slick.

"You looked even sexier than that. You made them like this." Choerry kisses your jaw, murmuring as she grabs your shaft, nudging you into her.

"Make me like that too, breed me again." You lean forward, pushing the both of you on all fours, the perfect position to both breed Choerry and watch the others get bred. Your hands are greedy, one groping her breasts, the other grabbing her hips, holding her stably as you hump into her. Choerry looks on, watching her fellow goddesses get plowed and mated, each utterly satisfied at the pleasure you were giving them. She feels your warm hand on her belly, and she grabs it with a free hand, squeezing you as she tightens her pussy—she wants your load badly.

Choerry's scream is deafening when she goes over the edge with you, the warmth filling her overwhelming and delicious. She collapses in the clouds, eyes drooping in tiredness, all she sees is white—the white of the clouds, and the rivers of potent seed flowing out of Jinsoul, Haseul, Kim Lip, and Heejin.

Your run complete, the copies disappear, and you rest next to Choerry, smiling. She smiles back, seeming to glow, like sunshine incarnate. She gets brighter and brighter, and It is all consuming, the goddesses disappearing from sight—you're not fading to black, you're ascending into radiance. The last thing you hear is Choerry's laugh.

Large black words are the only distraction from the overwhelming brightness.

Replay DLC?

A/N: I threw in lots of references to each member, tried to portray them with their own exaggerated personalities. The Heejin Korean part was purely to make an "Algorithm" reference, don't worry about understanding it. If you get confused about the ground and walls existing, don't think too hard about it, it's all "god stuff", the ground is there if you need it, the wall is there if you need it (all in the form of clouds), cum that's on Choerry's body magically disappears, no need for clean up.

This is me mostly just writing and not worrying about the details I didn't want to worry about, so it is definitely more to the point and "get to the scene I want to write about". Hope it reads fine, thanks for reading and Happy New Year!

#smut #artms #jinsoul #haseul #kim lip #heejin #choerry

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treviso-nights · 5 months ago

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there’s something profoundly childlike about solas’s inability to grapple with the inevitability of change.

spirits don’t seem to undergo the developmental stages mortals do, and solas’s reaction to the shifting world around him almost feels... puerile. he watches the evanuris (as former spirits) change—granted, for the worse—and the elves evolve from manifesting bodies to procreating and inheriting them. in light of all these varying transitions, he thinks: “if I can just remain as Wisdom, i’ll be fine. i won’t be like them.”

but he does change. and he is like them. possessing a sort of intuited fore- and retro-sight doesn't mean anything when the choices you're making for other people also destroy the world.

during cole’s personal quest in inquisition, varric isn’t solas's counterpart due to “bad writing”, which i've seen some people argue. varric is The Storyteller, the narrator who frames entire games (da2 and veilguard). stories are a wisdom of their own, and varric knows this. he knows the power of alchemy and transformation, and how these processes are necessary to round out subjective experience. he is the perfect guide to help a changing spirit like cole reconcile those changes with his original nature.

yet even when you do encourage cole to embrace his spirit-origins, it is not enough. only when cole actively chooses to forget original!cole does he regress to a “purer” version of himself. until then, cole remains in torment over what he could've done for original!cole had he the support and resources. there is no alchemizing. there is no substantial transformation. there is a total or "complete" lack of catharsis, because—

—cole, even after forgiving original!cole's murderer (like a spirit would), finds that simply forgiving is not enough to make him like he was. and so he once again stands at a crossroads: integration of his new-found humanity or self-inflicted memory loss. full embodiment versus purification of the self. and solas, by contrast, doesn't choose either of these.

instead, solas clings to his regrets (like a child would a blanket) as well as his identity as Wisdom while refusing to fully embody the world he’s a part of. to me, solas becomes like an adolescent trapped in stasis and terrified by the idea of change in a world that he does not actually understand: “i am of Wisdom. i am in pain. i must not change.”

#solas #veilguard #datv #inquisition #varric tethras #dragon age cole #dav #dragon age the veilguard #*sigh* for disclaimer purposes i am not saying solas is a child bc that would be weird #and no i am not saying only children fear change #i am SAYING that as a person who was NOT ever a child it's a special circumstance and it's interesting #as someone who literally made his own body he never had to grapple with the idea of change and it reminds me of ME tbh #when i was younger and knew that change was coming and refused to look at it in the face. i fucked myself up a looooot bc of it #mine #ANYWAYS #character analysis

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silna-pdf · 4 months ago

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if you have art requests open rn ,, is it possible you could draw mgsv revolver ocelot .? :3c

also.!! what program do you use to draw digitally ?

Can’t believe meowcelot said this

And also I am the most devout Medibang Paint Pro user of all time brother I am going on 7 years strong!!!!! Procreate could never match to Medibang’s sheer sexiness and intuitive design

#baby’s first ever ocelot drawing #don’t be harsh #and try medibang #revolver ocelot #mgs #silnaarttag #mgs 5 #thank you!! <3 #art request tag #fanart

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pluck-heartstrings · 5 months ago

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Hello! I'm a big fan of your colour choices in your art especially for your painting style pieces(if that's what you'd call those?). Is there a technique behind how you pick the colours for your works so they work as harmonically as they do? Studying your art fr fr

Here's some of my favs of yours and just to show what I mean by paintings :] so very tasty. If you feel like it's purely intuitive I get that! and thanks for blessings our eyes anyways!!

Lmaooo Xitsen I wish I could tell you I have a magical formula when it comes to colour. In reality, I have a very frantic process /sweats

The first three images actually had designated ‘colour reference’ that I was using. Basically I had a pose ref and a colour ref. I don’t always use a colour ref, but for these three I did. AND EVEN THOUGH I DID, the final product ended up being very different from the reference. I also chronically merge layers. Like all the time, even if I regret it sometimes, I can’t be stopped.

I remember specifically on the Sun one, I was working with two layers; the background and the figure. Then I duplicated the Sun figure, shifted the colour in the ‘hue’ slider, and fiddled around with some of the layer filters. I merged those two layers, and used my trusty 6B Procreate Pencil brush (default) to blend in some of the colours that looked wonky. And I don’t mean smudge, I mean eye dropper and sketch on top. Messy messy.

The last two were a bit different but still kinda the same. I frequently duplicate layers I’ve already done and mess around with the colour on the hue slider, using the layer filters all wild. I just try and see what looks good, but I try to stick with at least a cool shadow with a warm light, or the opposite.

Basically, fiddle with crazy colours and win silly prizes. My colours don’t always turn out nice, but I’m flattered that you found the ones that I also like. The first three are gems in my collection that I think back on like ….how did I do that…?

As a special bonus to prove my point, here’s an art attack I did for last year that started with an entirely different colour scheme from the final.

On the left is the colour scheme I chose from colour reference (I think an old movie poster) and the right is the more ‘vampiric’ one that I ended up choosing. But in all honesty, there were a bunch of colour schemes that looked good with this piece. It’s a good example of cool shadows, warm light and vice versa.

#ask pluck #xitsen….asking me?.? for art advice #I need to go lie down #Xitsen is the reason Eclipse and PMH Moon have claws THERE I SAID IT

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talonabraxas · 12 days ago

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“Mystics are people who have a particularly vivid experience of the processes of the collective unconscious.” ― C.G.Jung

Mystic Prophets Talon Abraxas

BLOOD

Yea, specially that mortal man hath toiled for service of the gods, Who quickly hath brought near Mitra and Varuna to share his sacrificial gifts. Supreme in sovereign power, far-sighted, chiefs and kings, most swift to hear from far away. Both wondrously, set them in motion as with arms, in company with Surya's beams. The rapid messenger who runs before you, Mitra-Varuna, with iron head, swift to the draught. . . . The true red treasure they have sent, one only son born of the three. They, the immortal ones, never deceived, survey the families of mortal man.

Rig Veda, Hymn XC

In the hymns of the most ancient Vedas, Varuna is praised as the most lofty sovereign of the Three Worlds. As he breathed, so breathed forth into being the universe. As he ordained, so the stars and planets took their places in the firmament. It was he who caused the solar orb to shine forth. He opened out the boundless pathways for its radiant fire just as he hollowed out the channels on earth for the rivers that would flow by his command. It was said that no creature in the universe could wink without him, and his messengers beheld all worlds as they sped forth at his bidding. None other than Varuna instructed the Sage Vasishtha in the mysteries, but his secrets were not to be revealed to the foolish, and only those familiar with his realm could tap his hundred thousand remedies for evil and sin. For he was extolled as a barrier against falsehood and as one who seized transgressors with bonds and nooses and restored all who reached him to harmony and balance.

In later times Varuna's position in the Hindu pantheon of gods was reduced in importance, and his cosmic sovereignty was largely usurped by gods whose names became the focal points of the reverential awe felt by the vast streams of people that meandered and moulded the races of the Indian subcontinent. But the clues of Varuna's former greatness can be found in his continuing association with water, for water is the designation of space and, on earth, of the electric flow of the blood of life. This is why the ancients could claim that "it takes earth and water to create a human soul" and that blood was connected with the initial generative power of the gods. Thus the gods Brahmā, Adam-Jehovah and Mars are the 'red' gods who work for the purpose of human procreation. In the Hindu tradition Mars is Karthikeya, son of Shiva, who is "born of his sweat" (Shiva Gharmaja) and of the earth. He is the god of bloodshed (war) only as a secondary idea which flows out of a primary cause associated with the "shedding of blood in conception for the first time".

Spilt blood is the symbol of sacrifice, the most precious offering of all. Even in earthly battle or human conception there is an element of sacrifice which echoes the greater act of the gods. Among human beings the intuitive understanding of this truth has often been inverted in rituals, wherein men attempt to appease or curry favour with the gods by offering them the blood of living creatures, sacrificing upwards to encourage renewed sacrifice downwards in the form of rain, bountiful crops or material gains. One can recognize in this a persistent attempt to manipulate the laws of Nature for limited ends. Sacrifice by proxy is a grotesquely diluted form of magic. Involuntary death in battle or participation in conception is scarcely capable of mirroring the Divine Will operating through the fiery life-giving streams of the sun. The legendary Red Knight in the Arthurian tales provides a truer reflection of the idea, for his colour expresses the passionate will of one who has mastered both steed and monster. But it is through Perceval that the critical force of the heart comes to play a dominant part in the knight's quest. The very sword which he must find and wield is lodged in a slab of red marble afloat in the watery sea. He must grasp its power from the heart in order to slay the monsters (within) that lie between him and the Grail used by Christ to share with his Apostles his own blood. Faint but haunting traces of the Red Knight can be found in Thomas Hardy's reddleman, who wanders and watches and silently endures. From the labour of his trade he is red from head to foot and cast outside the circle of common human life. But his heart knows the truth that courses through others' lives and compassion is his guide in defining his part in the revelation of its complexities.

There is a language of the blood of which people speak but it is also held that blood speaks for itself. In its continual coursing through every crook and cranny of the body, the blood contributes to and takes from all parts of the whole. This, together with the fact that men have long conceived of the blood as bearing the essential impress of the conditions of countless ancestors, has caused many to believe that the blood was capable of revealing truth. Thus it was thought that the wounds of a murdered man would bleed afresh in the presence of the murderer. Sir Francis Bacon recorded that when King Richard (the Lion-Hearted) was made to stand before his father's (Henry 11's) corpse, the wounds bled and confirmed the suspicion of many that patricide had been committed. But a deeper and perhaps unconsciously held reason for the belief lies in the analogy, perceived since the most ancient times, between the sun and its rays and the heart and blood in living beings. The penetration into all parts of the living whole is represented in the Rig Veda as Varuna, and in man this is seen as that which will never accept a partial view of things but continually seek the Truth in which all conditions and perspectives can be accommodated. The wise have taught that "so long as man does not attain to the largeness of Varuna's truth, he is bound to the posts of the world sacrifice by the triple bonds of mind, life and body as a victim and is not free as a possessor and enjoyer".

Partial and skewed views of 'truth' cause one to be 'hot' or 'cold' blooded and to act in ways unworthy of human beings. Productive of the 'bad blood' which often arises between people, such views can result in a kind of cardiac arrest on the mental plane or in practices even as benighted as blood feuding or drinking the blood of one's fallen enemy. Behind the most abysmal acts of man's inhumanity often lies a superstitious awe of the power of blood. To drink another's is to steal his or her life-essence. To kill a member of an enemy clan is to 'get back the blood' and increase the power of one's own family. The term 'blood' is mentioned in the Bible more than five hundred times, a testimony to the centrality of its importance to what was initially a tribal religion. It is often spoken of as a covenant and in connection with atonement and sacrifice. In Christian as well as other cultures a sign of blood serves as a pact or seal, like that made between American Indians who cut their thumbs in order to release and mingle their blood and become 'blood brothers'. The example of the pact between Dr. Faustus and Mephistopheles has proved to be of enduring fascination to writers in the Christian world, where the use of blood in acts of necromancy has been as plentiful as in primitive cultures. The abhorrence and fear of menstrual blood is also universal, causing many people to observe remarkable rituals of avoidance during periods when it was necessary. Pliny referred to this cast-off blood as "a fatal poison, corrupting and decomposing . . . depriving seeds of their fecundity, destroying insects, blasting garden flowers and grasses, causing fruits to fall from branches [and] dulling razors".

The passionate quality of the colour red pervades the symbolism of blood, and the vital character of blood informs the significance of the colour red. Among most people of the earth red symbolizes blood and indicates health, courage, fertility, growth and life itself. Chromatically, the colour red represents the end of a series which begins with sunlight and the colour yellow. The intermediate stage is expressed in the green colour so dominant in vegetable life, and with the movement from yellow an increase of iron marks the progressive involvement of light and electricity in matter. The advent of the colour red, then, symbolically represents the furthest extent of sacrifice from the ethereal to the material realm, and blood itself becomes a pulsating reminder of that profoundly archetypal process. More than one hundred thousand times a day, the human heart (pumping more than two thousand gallons or tens of millions of gallons in a lifetime) reminds us of this. The blood rushes out of the heart, travelling about one foot every second, following the same laws that apply to ground water flowing through the layers of the earth or electricity flowing from the sun through the vastitudes of space. Just as doubling the pressure doubles the flow and doubling the resistance halves the flow of water, so too these factors modify the flow of electricity and blood.

From its entrance into the right ventricle from the veins to its exit from the left ventricle into the arteries, the passage of blood requires two-and-a-half seconds when the body is at rest, and one second or so when it is being exercised. The heart's beating drives it into the narrowest capillaries, forcing the exchange of oxygen for the dead weight of carbon dioxide seventy times a minute. Its passage is swift and powerful despite the fact that only a little more than half of its constitution is liquid. Many of its more solid substances float in a rich sea of hormones, vitamins, enzymes and proteins that are found in the plasma which, composed largely of water, is the blood's solvent. Plasma contains compounds uncannily like those of the ancient Cambrian seas that covered most of the globe over five hundred million years ago. It was from these seas that life forms first emerged. The first single-celled residents had circulatory systems as vast as the ocean itself. Oxygen diffused effortlessly into the cells, and, just as easily, the seas absorbed the wastes. The evolution of forms from more ethereal types involved a collective participation in breath and circulation. The higher sparks of conscious intelligence waited in abeyance while this vast process of generalized physical exchange took place. The forms would evolve for millennia, becoming increasingly complex and inwardly oriented while they waited for a vesture capable of reflecting the individuating mind.

When the correct form evolved, it possessed an individual circulatory system similar to that of other animals, but one whose rhythm and pattern of movement, relative to its centre, reflected a cosmic design. As this microcosmic form evolved, the blood that gave it life developed various specialized factors associated with race and long chains of causation hidden in the forgotten complexities of man's past. Human blood groups with their various factors bear a simple one-to-one correspondence with the genes that are transmitted each generation. These are constant within individuals and not influenced by environment or diet or any other external factor. Two parents both carrying the M factor will unavoidably produce a child having the M factor, whilst one type A blood parent together with another type B blood parent may produce a type A or B or AB child. But there are over sixty different factors and four major blood types known in the world, and the chance of two people being identical in regard to all of them is astronomically improbable. There are what have been called human 'blood prints', which are as unique as fingerprints and characterize an aspect of a particular individual, a particular karma which speaks, as the blood can speak, of the history and condition of the indwelling soul whose body it sustains.

Great movements of human beings, unknown to history, can be charted by the geographical increase and decrease of blood factors. The fact that blood type A is frequently found in western Japan (opposite Korea) and diminishes as one moves towards Hokkaido corresponds with a movement of mainland people onto an archipelago once completely populated by another and much older race of people. Some races possess blood factors which others do not possess at all, and some instances of their occurrence seem to be part of a crazy-quilt design that does not readily fit in with broader patterns of migration. Much mystery continues to surround the study of man's physical ancestry and the complexities of all the meanderings and matings that have produced the billions of bodies of the dead and the living. An old English proverb has it that "all blood is alike ancient" and there is much truth in this saying. The blood of our forgotten ancestors is as vast as time extended back along the ages to the shores of the primordial Cambrian seas. The hot and cold blood, the bad blood, the blood of sacrifice, that of the heart's wisdom and that of life's passions flows down along those infinitely tangled courses of animal and human history to circulate in myriad combinations through the bodies of the living. But it is the human ancestors, forgotten and remembered, who have impressed it greatly with the stamp of their lives, for the blood of animals is little marked by hopes or perversions. Man can affect the quality of blood and its circulation through thought and cause it to run as a pure river of sacrifice or as a stream clogged with impurities. Oddly, it is in man's treatment of animals that he has often muddied his nature most foully. This is particularly true in regard to vivisection and blood sports. Oscar Wilde once referred to the institution of fox hunting as "the unspeakable in full pursuit of the uneatable", a witticism which points to the cruelty as well as the absurdity of such a practice. The hostility and fear towards humans that pervade the animal kingdom is a sad result of the actions of human ancestors who lived millennia ago as well as only yesterday. As folk belief would have it, "the blood itself never forgets where it has been".

The primary function of human blood is to supply oxygen daily to the sixty trillion cells in the body. Besides this it transports food, wastes and hormonal messengers. It cools when there is overheating of the system and warms when it is cold, and it destroys alien invaders while at the same time mending and repairing its own vessels. Blood maintains the balance of Nature and homeostasis in man. It is the medium through which the continual re-establishment of this balance takes place and it thus binds the internal nature harmoniously to the world outside. The pressure of the systemic circulation is originated by the heart as the blood is pumped into the large arteries. From there it courses to smaller arteries and arterioles which control the flow to the tissue. From the arterioles it passes through the metarterioles to the sphincter valves, and thence into the capillaries, which radiate out in minutely distinguished dendritic fans resembling great coral fans along some exotic submarine reef. The oxygen and food brought to the capillaries pass through their walls and enter the interstitial fluid that surrounds all of the body's cells and then into the cells themselves. As this occurs, the carbon dioxide and other waste material in the cells leave and cross over into the blood in the capillaries in an exchange which causes the blood, which then makes its return journey through the venules and veins to the heart, to take on a dark purple colouration.

The blood, passing through the heart, then enters into the pulmonary phase of its circulation. It is 'breathless' as it comes along the right and left pulmonary arteries leading to the lungs. There it courses along arteries that divide into smaller and smaller vessels, threading for hundreds of miles around and about the millions of tiny air sacs called alveoli which form the respiratory membranes of the lungs. Molecules of oxygen diffuse through the tiny membranes of the alveoli into the blood in a homeostatic response resulting in the equalization of pressure. At any one time the three ounces of blood in the lungs are distributed throughout this network so thinly and evenly that the oxygen/carbon dioxide exchange can take place in a quarter of a second. Air is drawn into the lungs in concert with the blood rising from the heart, and they meet in perfect timing at the tiny membrane stations where diffusion takes place.

Excessive carbon dioxide in the blood causes the breathing and heartbeat to quicken in order to flush it out. Another regulating factor is dictated by the need of tissues and the subsequent signals carried in the blood which cause the arteries and veins of various sizes to contract or dilate. The passageways contain nerves connected to the vaso-motor centre in the brain, which then signals the nerve fibres to secrete a vaso-constrictor or dilating agent. Like the systole and diastole of the heart, the quickness of the breath, the pressure of the blood as it flows and the rate of the exchanges during the phases of circulation, so too, the vessels through which the blood passes reflect a universal centrifugal and centripetal rhythm to which all forms of life, like revolving wheels within wheels, continually adjust themselves.

The Sun is the heart of the Solar World (System) and its brain is hidden behind the (visible) Sun. From thence, sensation is radiated into every nerve-centre of the great body . . .

The Secret Doctrine, i 541

If the plasma in blood is its solvent, the red blood cells endow it with its 'functional essence', carrying, as they do, ninety-nine percent of the oxygen distributed throughout the body. Constituting only forty-five percent of the blood, the red blood cells are, nonetheless, the most abundant cells in the body. They are sturdy and highly flexible sacs that can squeeze through the narrowest passages without rupturing. Like plasma, they are partly composed of water, but their characteristic constituent (which gives blood its crimson colour) is haemoglobin, which they possess in so highly concentrated a form that it is almost crystallized. In addition to the transport of oxygen, blood has the power to heal. Unlike any other fabric, it can seal rent tissue, magically making its own thread to weave the torn parts together again. The fibrous threads literally 'weave themselves into being' at the site of an injury. Tiny platelets rush to a cut or rupture and swell into sticky, irregular shapes to create plugs as backup, and if their abilities to seal the wound are inadequate, they signal for the clotting process to begin. So dependable is the blood's complex electrochemical potential that the signals are continually and faithfully transmitted, releasing the exact chemicals capable of adjusting and mending countless times within a human life. It is only in rare circumstances that the system fails to respond, the most publicized of these being the effects caused by the condition known as haemophilia, which term, in a sort of cruel irony, means love of blood'. One of Queen Victoria's everlasting claims to fame lies in the fact that she transmitted this disease to a good many of the crowned heads of Europe and Russia.

Another important element in blood is composed of a small but active army of white blood cells (leucocytes), whose job it is to engulf, swallow, 'explode', break down, digest and neutralize any parasites or viruses that invade the system. Their production in the bone marrow and lymph glands immediately increases upon such an intrusion, and a devouring horde is released to engage 'the enemy'. They pull themselves along the capillary walls like foot-soldiers, their tiny pseudopods stretching out with each step as they advance along and through the tissue. Billions may perish in an all out battle but, with the assistance of the antibodies which destroy particular antigens they have latched onto, they are usually victorious. But the 'army' of leucocytes must always serve the greater function of the blood. If, abnormally swollen with power, they multiply and accumulate unnaturally, they can clog the body's arteries and prevent the bone marrow from producing vital red blood cells. Such an army out of control can result in tragic diseases such as leukaemia or lupus.

They were going to look at war, the red animal – war, the blood-swollen god.

The Red Badge of Courage

STEPHEN CRANE

The god of war reigns in the Iron Age. Forgotten is his primary role associated with ideational sacrifice. His distorted and crippled image is red with lust for conquest and yet can preside over a disease that strips the body of its life-bearing crimson cells. The causes and result of an age whose hallmarks are greed and selfishness are often deceptive in their outward appearances. Iron lies at the very 'heart' of the blood's functional essence. It is the 'soul' or 'jewel' that rests in the centre of haemoglobin molecules responsible for the continual oxidation of the body's cells. As always, the body shows its 'wisdom' by producing this vital substance in the protected surrounds of bone marrow (largely that of the skull, ribs and spine). When tissue in the body runs short of oxygen, a messenger hormone called erythropoietin ('one who makes blood') travels to the marrow, where it signals a 'primitive' cell to come out of its dormancy and to begin to grow and produce red blood cells. Haemoglobin molecules multiply within them until a saturation point is reached and the nucleus of the cells is released in an act of self-sterilization demonstrative of the blood's sacrificial character. Looking like a pinched disc, the red blood cell will live one hundred and twenty days and then die, forming part of the waste to be transported out of the body. Like the biblical creation of the world, the time required for the production of the cells is six days, but with no rest on the seventh!

Once produced, each red blood cell contains two hundred and seventy million haemoglobin molecules, each of which loads oxygen at the surface of the lungs and unloads it precisely when and where needed. The molecules are made up of four chains of amino acids which form little tangled wheels circling single atoms of iron at their centres. Sheltered in the rings of the chains (made up of hydrogen, nitrogen and carbon), the iron is heavily involved in interacting with them (especially the nitrogen). This dissipates its attraction for the individual oxygen molecules which will attach themselves to the iron, so that the binding is only a temporary one and the oxygen is easily released at its destination.

And if our blood alone Will melt this iron earth, Take it. It is well spent Easing a saviour's birth.

CECIL DAY LEWIS

The iron binds only temporarily but it must have the power to do so. The earth may be a magnet, dark as iron, which we must melt away to let the spirit shine forth, but have not those who daily greet the sun called it Great Magnet? Just as the spectrum, passing from yellow through green to red, corresponds with an increase of iron, so too does the sun, passing from its hidden spiritual essence to the manifest orb in our solar system. Therefore, iron, in its physical form, owes its power to magnetize both matter and mind to an essential spiritual magnetism which (along with Fohatic electricity) lies at the heart of the substratum of being. It is a central actor in the centripetal and centrifugal pulsation that takes place in the spiritual, astral and physical realms. This is why the god Varuna, who set in motion Surya's beams and gave the "true red treasure", is called Iron-Headed' and identified with Hephaestus of the iron forge.

Like little suns in the centres of wheels of planets, the four iron atoms preside over the world of the red blood cell. The elements they work with are the four fundamental building blocks of all manifest life: hydrogen, nitrogen, oxygen and carbon. In occult terms, these provide the basis for the Tetrad, which combines within itself all the materials from which cosmos is produced. From the magnetic point in the centre of the boundless Circle, to the Duad and the Triad, the One is ultimately involved in the Tetrad, whose symbol is the fourth or visible sun as well as the four tiny iron atoms in the haemoglobin molecule. In the macrocosmic process the astral realm lies between the noumenal Tetraktys and the phenomenal Tetrad. At this level it is Akashic, whilst in its lower expression it corresponds with the linga sharira of the phenomenal world and its chemical analogue, nitrogen. One perceives the significance of the iron atom's involvement with nitrogen, which acts to dissipate the binding of oxygen to it. For on the gross material level oxygen represents prana and must be free to fly out from the little sun' and carry out its vital role in the sacrifice of life.

Someone once asked H.P. Blavatsky if prana was produced by the lives' of the human body. She responded that the opposite was true, that prana was the parent of the lives'. She asked the enquirer to imagine the body as a sponge submerged in water. The water inside the sponge would be prana, whilst that all around it would be Jiva. When the sponge is removed from the water, it dries up (dies) and loses prana. She went on to explain that every principle is a differentiation of Jiva, but the life motion in each is prana, without which there would be no kama. Prana wakes the kamic germs to life; it makes all desires vital and living. Thus the Great Breath which breathes out the universes exudes the vital Jivas which course through the electrical channels of ethereal space and ultimately bring life to the very air we take into our lungs.

The vessels within the human organism are channels for prana as it continually informs the body. Jiva becomes prana when a child is born and first begins to breathe, enabling the divine life-spark to become an individual spiritual presence. Entering the blood as oxygen, it causes it to become bright red, thus bringing the solar spark to its ultimate expression on the spectrum. A delightful myth in the Puranas explains how this came about through the Sage Vasishtha, who requested the sun to come to Satya Loka. Surya said that if he left his place, the whole world would be destroyed. So the Rishi offered to put his red cloth in the place of the sun's disc, and it is this that we now see in the sky. So also, the golden streams of Fohatic electricity which inform ethereal space become red within the body of living creatures. The vast ocean of Jiva finds an analogue in the plasma of the blood, which bears in its currents the ghostly remnants of dead cells much like the bhuts that float in the astral realm. Like the ancient Cambrian seas, it is an archaic matrix in which the individuating solar design gradually incarnated.

Man is the pivot where the Great Breath which breathes out is breathed in. The little suns' of iron then magnetize it before ^breathing it out', so to speak, into the microcosm of the body. At this point, the Red God Karthikeya reigns, for his is the kingdom of the manifest world. Worshipped as Murugan, Subramania or Mars, he is the hope of those who court fertility and the champion of those in whom rajas predominates. But he is born of the 'sweat' of his father, Shiva, who, beyond the limits of form, precipitated out watery globules (worlds) much in the fashion that the 'primitive' cell within the marrow would come to be activated to produce red blood cells in man. It is these globules which are the realm of the 'red sun', the red son and offspring of the Highest Spiritual Will.

In this way, the 'interior work' of the Spiritual Sun manifests forth. The 'sweat' of Shiva, transmitted by his fleet-footed son, becomes the vital fluid that circulates through our solar system. Every year the blood of the visible sun passes through its auricles and ventricles before washing the lungs' and passing into the arteries and veins of the system to complete an eleven-year cycle. This is a reflection in a very limited time of much vaster cycles pertaining to the third and second and most Spiritual Sun. In man the cycle requires a tiny fraction of solar time but it is, in essence, the same cycle of circulation, demonstrating more powerfully than any other physiological pattern man's position as microcosm of the macrocosm. On earth the solar cave of the heart, in which the Buddha of sacrifice resides, lies in the mountain peaks. It is from these heights that the sacrificial streams of blood (water) course forth to bring life to the waiting world. They stream along endless canals and cross over interstitial seas to be returned to the lungs of the atmosphere and recleansed. But it is the heart centres in the world which keep the waters flowing. If it were not for their conscious participation in the whole sacrifice of life, there would not be adequate canals to carry its fruits, and they would sink in the chaos of the great seas long before reaching other shores where the needy wait and hope.

Without the conscious participation of those who make of their existence a heart centre, the 'cells' of the world could not be adequately nourished and the global body would begin to dry up like the dying sponge when it is denied its life-giving environment. Living in the world, we are not submerged in the waters of Jiva, and we are dependent upon the extension and maintenance of channels capable of spreading the spiritual currents with which man's immortal soul is enlivened and encouraged to incarnate. These rivers of Truth are brought to us by those who act as extensions of the Rays which stream forth as the Jivas emanated by their Logoic Solar Source. The Great Lord Shiva is all these Jivas combined, and those who attempt to diffuse their spiritual sparks in the world are followers of his example. They sacrifice through their 'sweat' that which they have garnered through the innermost penetration of the heart and brain. Those who follow these Rays will eventually move towards their heavenly prototype until they are drawn into the highest Ray of the Sun.

Varuna guides them because he is the Ether of Divine Truth that leads from the fiery Son to the Invisible Father beyond. He strikes down evil and delivers from illusion, like a vast sea in which all is ultimately purified or thrown up. Much like the leucocytes which engulf and destroy invaders into a harmoniously operating system, Varuna ensnares and demolishes the "Sons of Darkness [who] serve self-will and ignorance". But those who seek after Truth through sacrifice are delivered from bondage to sin, like a calf released from the rope or a victim set free from the slaying-post. From within their highest spiritual centres (shielded by the skull, the ribs and the spine), such seekers tune their most sensitive receptors to catch the signal of the erythropoietin, the call of humanity's spiritual needs. They watch and listen and willingly give forth the living blood of Truth on whose vast sea they have set their course.

Do not pass that long sought cup Away from my parched lips. Too great the pain that filled it up, Too sweet its ruby sips.

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