#jinns live in trees

[threebea]

Time travel Au. You've seen Obi-Wan travel through time to cause problems on purpose during his apprenticeship. Get ready for Padawan Qui-Gon travels forwards in time to cause problems (not on purpose) for his and Obi-Wan's apprenticeship.

Featuring:

Obi-Wan being seventeen and Qui-Gon being fourteen so Qui-Gon immediately thinks Obi-Wan is the height of coolness not at all noticing that Obi-Wan is an anxious loser (affectionate) who hides his worries behind sarcasm.

Padawan Qui-Gon being exceptionally well-behaved and Obi-Wan extremely confused by this fact.

Master Qui-Gon: don't act that surprised.

Obi-Wan: (pointed eyebrow raise)

But despite being very well behaved he is also a showoff who wants so badly for Obi-Wan to like him. Chaos ensues. Obi-Wan isn't sure if this is cute, annoying, or embarrassing.

He lands on annoying (affectionate) the third time he has to fish Qui-Gon out of a river.

Master Qui-Gon forgets that he had the habit of climbing trees and getting stuck in them until he watches Padawan Qui-Gon get stuck in one in real time.

Padawan Qui-Gon asking where his Master is and learning he left the order.

Dooku still being called even though he hasn't been answering anyone lately.

Dooku probably planning a kidnapping the moment he learns about all this.

The Qui-Gons not gelling right away because of the very different places they are in their lives and their perspectives. They'll figure it out.

Obi-Wan getting the euphoria of being taller than Qui-Gon Jinn

[bestworstcase]

Can I ask where you get your reading on Oz's curse? I'm just not sure where you got your interpretation(?) from

well, from the text…?

i don’t think it’s remotely unclear tbqh.

in the lost fable, light tells him “you will reincarnate, but in a manner that ensures you are never alone.” later in the same, we see that a reflection of the host remains and rebukes ozma when he begins to stray too far from the mandate (“what are we doing?” -> “this isn’t what he asked of me”). 

after the cycle begins in earnest, jinn states that “no matter what, his mind would eventually turn back to the task he had been burdened with,” and when she adds that ozma learned the importance of living with his hosts, what we see is an identical reflection of his current self observing him while he serves dinner to his family.

we know—because it has been stated many, many times—that the outcome of the merge is two identical souls sharing one mind. “eventually, you won’t be able to tell who is who anymore,” ironwood tells oscar. that’s what “you will never be alone” means, that ozma very literally cannot ever be alone because he has his reflection watching him. all the time.

now, in 5.3, oz tells the kids this:

For thousands of years, I've walked the surface of Remnant, living, dying, and reincarnating in the body of a like-minded soul. The Professor Ozpin you all met was not my first form, and clearly wasn't my last. It's... an extraordinarily strenuous process on everyone involved.

from this, we can infer that he doesn’t consider himself to be ozpin anymore—to him, ozpin was just the most recent in a long series of like-minded souls whose bodies he inhabited. (this is why i call him ozma: he doesn’t say it in so many words, but the way he talks about ozpin in this episode makes it quite clear that ozpin is not his identity.)

he also says this:

With every rebirth, my soul is eventually merged with another and I am changed, but my memories stay with me.

note the use of passive voice. oz doesn’t say he changes; he says he is changed through the merger of his soul with countless others “who’ve spent their lives trying to protect the people of remnant,” but his memories stay with him once he leaves them. remember what jinn said? “some lives were spent in mourning, many were spent attempting to forget it all, but no matter what his mind would eventually return to the task he had been burdened with.”

his curse is—pretty explicitly—a corrupted version of ascension. when an afteran ascends, they choose what their next life will be—nothing can happen to them in the tree other than what they want—and the blacksmith helps them find their way back to themselves and they’re reborn into their new, chosen purpose. they leave their factual memories behind in the tree, but the heart remembers and the self remains. they change themselves. 

ozma agreed to return so he could find salem. that’s what he wanted. his curse has changed him, over and over and over again, to fill the mold of “countless men who’ve spent their lives trying to protect remnant,” and no matter what he does, no matter how he tries to live, eventually he’s pulled back to “the task he had been burdened with.” he is not allowed to put it down. he’s not allowed to change his mind. the curse is specifically designed to prevent this. he doesn’t get to choose who or what he becomes. he doesn’t get to choose his own purpose; his purpose is a burden imposed on him by the god of light. it’s anti-ascension.

and… what happens when ozma decides to join oscar in fighting the curse, in the v9 epilogue? it hurts him. it inflicts pain on both of them while forcibly trying to push ozma forward. the instant he makes a serious effort to disobey, the curse becomes violent and punishes him.

also like. gestures at literally everything else the god of light does, to salem, to darkness, to the jabberwalker. light is terrified of change and obsessed with control; the idea that ozma’s curse is supposed to encourage him to change and grow by experiencing the world through the eyes of other people—other people whom the god of light explicitly disdains as “but a fraction of what they once were” without the brothers’ blessings!—is flatly nonsense. it’s antithetical to everything the god of light believes and values. lol

[rendiggitydog]

So we all know the final part of the Minecraft Poem, with ‘and the universe said’ yknow? But I just read the whole thing again and there’s lots of great lines in the rest of it too! So I’m curious, what’s your favorite line?

Under the cut I’ve pasted the whole poem minus the part we all know, with each line numbered so you can easily share what’s your fav !

1- PLAYERNAME?

2- Yes. Take care. It has reached a higher level now. It can read our thoughts.

3- That doesn't matter. It thinks we are part of the game.

4- I like this player. It played well. It did not give up.

5- It is reading our thoughts as though they were words on a screen.

6- That is how it chooses to imagine many things, when it is deep in the dream of a game.

7- Words make a wonderful interface. Very flexible. And less terrifying than staring at the reality behind the screen.

8- They used to hear voices. Before players could read. Back in the days when those who did not play called the players witches, and warlocks. And players dreamed they flew through the air, on sticks powered by demons.

9- What did this player dream?

10- This player dreamed of sunlight and trees. Of fire and water. It dreamed it created. And it dreamed it destroyed. It dreamed it hunted, and was hunted. It dreamed of shelter.

11- Hah, the original interface. A million years old, and it still works. But what true structure did this player create, in the reality behind the screen?

12- It worked, with a million others, to sculpt a true world in a fold of the [scrambled], and created a [scrambled] for [scrambled], in the [scrambled].

13- It cannot read that thought.

14- No. It has not yet achieved the highest level. That, it must achieve in the long dream of life, not the short dream of a game.

15- Does it know that we love it? That the universe is kind?

16- Sometimes, through the noise of its thoughts, it hears the universe, yes.

17- But there are times it is sad, in the long dream. It creates worlds that have no summer, and it shivers under a black sun, and it takes its sad creation for reality.

18- To cure it of sorrow would destroy it. The sorrow is part of its own private task. We cannot interfere.

19- Sometimes when they are deep in dreams, I want to tell them, they are building true worlds in reality. Sometimes I want to tell them of their importance to the universe. Sometimes, when they have not made a true connection in a while, I want to help them to speak the word they fear.

20- It reads our thoughts.

21- Sometimes I do not care. Sometimes I wish to tell them, this world you take for truth is merely [scrambled] and [scrambled], I wish to tell them that they are [scrambled] in the [scrambled]. They see so little of reality, in their long dream.

22- And yet they play the game.

23- But it would be so easy to tell them...

24- Too strong for this dream. To tell them how to live is to prevent them living.

25- I will not tell the player how to live.

27- The player is growing restless.

28- I will tell the player a story.

29- But not the truth.

30- No. A story that contains the truth safely, in a cage of words. Not the naked truth that can burn over any distance.

31- Give it a body, again.

32- Yes. Player...

33- Use its name.

34- PLAYERNAME. Player of games.

35- Good.

36- Take a breath, now. Take another. Feel air in your lungs. Let your limbs return. Yes, move your fingers. Have a body again, under gravity, in air. Respawn in the long dream. There you are. Your body touching the universe again at every point, as though you were separate things. As though we were separate things.

37- Who are we? Once we were called the spirit of the mountain. Father sun, mother moon. Ancestral spirits, animal spirits. Jinn. Ghosts. The green man. Then gods, demons. Angels. Poltergeists. Aliens, extraterrestrials. Leptons, quarks. The words change. We do not change.

38- We are the universe. We are everything you think isn't you. You are looking at us now, through your skin and your eyes. And why does the universe touch your skin, and throw light on you? To see you, player. To know you. And to be known. I shall tell you a story.

39- Once upon a time, there was a player.

40- The player was you, PLAYERNAME.

41- Sometimes it thought itself human, on the thin crust of a spinning globe of molten rock. The ball of molten rock circled a ball of blazing gas that was three hundred and thirty thousand times more massive than it. They were so far apart that light took eight minutes to cross the gap. The light was information from a star, and it could burn your skin from a hundred and fifty million kilometres away.

42- Sometimes the player dreamed it was a miner, on the surface of a world that was flat, and infinite. The sun was a square of white. The days were short; there was much to do; and death was a temporary inconvenience.

43- Sometimes the player dreamed it was lost in a story.

44- Sometimes the player dreamed it was other things, in other places. Sometimes these dreams were disturbing. Sometimes very beautiful indeed. Sometimes the player woke from one dream into another, then woke from that into a third.

45- Sometimes the player dreamed it watched words on a screen.

46- Let's go back.

47- The atoms of the player were scattered in the grass, in the rivers, in the air, in the ground. A woman gathered the atoms; she drank and ate and inhaled; and the woman assembled the player, in her body.

48- And the player awoke, from the warm, dark world of its mother's body, into the long dream.

49- And the player was a new story, never told before, written in letters of DNA. And the player was a new program, never run before, generated by a sourcecode a billion years old. And the player was a new human, never alive before, made from nothing but milk and love.

50- You are the player. The story. The program. The human. Made from nothing but milk and love.

51- Let's go further back.

52- The seven billion billion billion atoms of the player's body were created, long before this game, in the heart of a star. So the player, too, is information from a star. And the player moves through a story, which is a forest of information planted by a man called Julian, on a flat, infinite world created by a man called Markus, that exists inside a small, private world created by the player, who inhabits a universe created by...

53- Shush. Sometimes the player created a small, private world that was soft and warm and simple. Sometimes hard, and cold, and complicated. Sometimes it built a model of the universe in its head; flecks of energy, moving through vast empty spaces. Sometimes it called those flecks "electrons" and "protons".

54- Sometimes it called them "planets" and "stars".

55- Sometimes it believed it was in a universe that was made of energy that was made of offs and ons; zeros and ones; lines of code. Sometimes it believed it was playing a game. Sometimes it believed it was reading words on a screen.

56- You are the player, reading words...

57- Shush... Sometimes the player read lines of code on a screen. Decoded them into words; decoded words into meaning; decoded meaning into feelings, emotions, theories, ideas, and the player started to breathe faster and deeper and realised it was alive, it was alive, those thousand deaths had not been real, the player was alive

58- You. You. You are alive.

59- and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the sunlight that came through the shuffling leaves of the summer trees

60- and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the light that fell from the crisp night sky of winter, where a fleck of light in the corner of the player's eye might be a star a million times as massive as the sun, boiling its planets to plasma in order to be visible for a moment to the player, walking home at the far side of the universe, suddenly smelling food, almost at the familiar door, about to dream again

61- and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the zeros and ones, through the electricity of the world, through the scrolling words on a screen at the end of a dream

[anthurak]

Lately I’ve been seeing a few different takes/theories that the Tree is going to age-up Ruby as part of whatever Ascension she goes through. And that’s gotten me thinking about a deeper question:

What has been the narrative point of Ruby being two years younger than her teammates to begin with?

At first, I think we all assumed (and in some ways still assume) that Ruby being younger represented some strength of child-like innocence and purity to contrast with the dark and bleak world she lived in. Like whereas Weiss, Blake and Yang were forced to grapple with their doubts, guilt and uncertainties, Ruby was able to push on with her pure, unbreakable spirit.

But I think it’s pretty clear that in recent volumes and ESPECIALLY this volume that the story is in fact deconstructing this idea of some ‘strength’ of childish innocence. That if anything, much of Ruby’s seemingly ‘pure’ and ‘unbreakable’ spirit has actually been the result of her repressing and trying to hide away all her pain and trauma. Not just since Volume 3, but what now seems to be basically her entire life. And now she’s finally reached the point where all that pain is finally boiling over and breaking her.

So with that in mind, I’m now thinking that Ruby being two years younger than her teammates actually represents not a strength, but something that’s holding Ruby back. That Ruby isn’t just two years younger than her teammates, she’s two years behind them in terms of character growth. When Weiss, Blake and Yang were being forced to confront all their pain and trauma after Volume 3 and grow past it, Ruby was simply repressing that pain and hiding it away to just soldier on.

Think of it this way; imagine where Weiss, Blake and Yang were when they were fifteen years old in terms of how well they were dealing with their problems. THAT’S where Ruby was at the start of the show. I think we can imagine Ruby as having two LESS years of emotional experience and maturity as her teammates.

Consider how we’ve heard from CRWBY that Ruby is 17 during this volume (having had her birthday sometime during Volume 7). In other words, the SAME age Weiss, Blake and Yang were when Volume 3 happened and they were forced to confront the problems they’d long since been denying about themselves. But whereas they just had the trauma of the Fall of Beacon weighing on them, by this point Ruby has that, plus the odyssey across Anima, plus the Battle for Haven, plus the revelations from Jinn, plus… EVERYTHING that happened in Atlas. With ALL the death, destruction and TRAUMA that came along with it.

Is it any wonder that Ruby’s breakdown this volume is so much WORSE than anything we saw from Weiss, Blake or Yang in the wake of Volume 3? Ruby’s been hit with all the same shit her friends have been through over the course of the show, but WITHOUT the emotional growth and experience her teammates went through after the Fall of Beacon.

It really feels more and more that Ruby being two years younger represents a kind of shackle, holding her BACK from the emotional experience her teammates got.

So with all that in mind, I actually DO think that the Tree is going to age up Ruby as part of whatever ‘Ascension’ she winds up undergoing. Specifically, she gets aged up two years. To the SAME age as her teammates.

Through Ascension, the tree will be giving Ruby the opportunity to gain the emotional growth and experience she hasn’t been able to get, and so desperately needs right now.

Now to clarify, I DON’T think this is going to take the form of Ruby effectively ‘speed-running’ though a volume or mores worth of character development in the next two episodes. Though I do fully expect Ruby will going through some MAJOR personal revelations.

Rather, I think Ruby getting aged up will represent the start of her growth instead of the end. It represents Ruby deciding that she’s not JUST going to be the always-positive, always-optimistic, never-feel-sad and never-be-negative ‘perfect’ huntress and leader she probably always felt she NEEDED to be. Instead, she’s going to be an actual person who accepts and faces the pain and trauma she’s been trying to hide and run away from. And is going to accept the help from her friends to deal with that pain.

And ironically, I think Ruby is going to be all the happier for it. Like I wouldn’t be surprised if the first thing Ruby does after her new form is revealed… is smile.

[tennessoui]

I am begging to know time travel ahsoka's top wtf moments because I bet they are a dodgy 😂

top 5 resets that make ahsoka lose her mind if she accidentally thinks about them:

reset #59 - Master Windu is convinced to take on Anakin Skywalker as his apprentice after Qui-Gon Jinn dies at the hands of Darth Maul on Naboo. Denied training Anakin and reeling from the death of his master, 25 yo obi-wan kenobi spirals into a tailspin of agony and infinite sadness until the crechemaster finds him and makes him do a stint as his apprentice for no other reason than younglings make everyone a little bit happier. obi-wan refuses to be in the same room as master windu tho and keeps removing anakin's name from the sign up sheet for creche duty whenever anakin signs up. obi-wan walks around the temple with at least 4 younglings trailing after him at all times like lil ducks. anakin is seething with the jealousy of not having kenobi's attention anymore. volunteers to storm the temple when he Falls but only if he gets to kill the younglings comes face to face with pleading, already wounded obi-wan but it's too late for anything but last words

reset #647 - ahsoka says fuck it and steals them away so neither of them become Jedi; she decides they both hate when people tell them what to do so she arranges a marriage between street rat anakin and prince obi-wan a la aladdin via several mindtricks of officials to make them think anakin comes from wealth; at first they hate each other but then galactic war breaks out and obi-wan calls for anakin to shelter on stewjon with him as his spouse to be. they fuck within the first 2 nights and are so WEIRD about each other afterwards that ahsoka doesn't hesitate to press the reset button

reset #3952 - master skywalker & padawan kenobi. weird about each other from the beginning. WEIRDER as time goes on, aging like a fine wine. padawan kenobi stubs his toe on a mission once and master skywalker picks him up and carries him around for 16 hours. ahsoka counted. then ahsoka reset that fucking mess

reset #450 - Anakin does not become a Jedi. He becomes a smuggler for a bit but eventually settles onto Coruscant. Ahsoka is on edge but there are billions of people on Coruscant. It's fine. It's fine. Anakin opens up a mechanic shop. Anakin dates a girl down the street. Anakin gets a library card and a loth cat. Ahsoka slowly relaxes. Anakin's loth cat gets stuck up in a tree in the Coruscant gardens. Obi-Wan senses a damsel in distress while on his walk to through the gardens. The cat jumps right into his arms; it only takes Anakin two hours to do the same

reset #451 - Ok but ahsoka thinks she's so close with this scenario!! Anakin was living a quiet happy life! she just extends obi-wan's mission so he cannot come rescue anakin's cat from the tree and then bam. phew. crisis averted. only anakin is sneaking into the jedi temple to steal flowers from the Jedi garden for his lower levels girlfrend??? obi-wan is doing some late night gardening because it's the anniversary of qui-gon's death and this helps him feel close to him??? anakin accidentally sneaks up on obi-wan?? obi-wan hits him in the nose with a shovel???? Ahsoka's just saving them all from embarrassment and pain by just. fucking. hitting the reset button.

[clonemando]

Mace Has a Tooka

(was feeling the love for Master Windu in the Chili's tonight and this fic just typed itself. Enjoy!)

Her name was Regal and it suited her as she sat primly on the arm of Mace's beat up old couch observing her domain with a calm disdain. Mace had been working on flimsy work so the pads still littered the table and several cushions of said couch and also the floor and Mace knew she hated messes. It was clear to him even without a Jedi's ability to connect to animals that she was judging him for leaving the mess so long.

"You don't get to judge me when you don't help with any of the chores." He said with a huff but started stacking the completed forms in a pile. She daintily licked one of her little claws and rubbed it over one of her brown speckled ear cones without looking at him.

"I should have told Depa to leave you in the trash." He grumbled and earned a deserved side eye from the creature for the comment.

Regal had been brought to his quarters when Depa was just a padawan and had found skinny matted tooka crawling through the garbage and had dragged it back to beg Mace to help it. She had promised that once the tooka was cleaned up and healthy she'd find it a home. He should have sensed the trap as it was laid.

He did realize his mistake the night he heard Depa talking to the creature and addressing it by name but by then it was too late. Thankfully Regal had a compatible personality to the Master of the Order. She preferred to share quiet company and a tidily kept space- despite or perhaps because of her previous life outside. She suffered no fools in her home and had once driven Qui-Gon Jinn up into a tree hissing and spitting at the man when he had barged into Mace's quarters during a bad migraine episode unknowingly. Mace appreciated her passion in either caring over him or annoying Jinn.

He had worried when she had disappeared from his quarters after the start of the Clone Wars thinking maybe she had finally come of an age for her species that he needed to accept she had gone to join the force in private to spare him pain.

Instead, Ponds had found her somehow in Mace's quarters on their ship with three kittens suckling at her stomach. Lightning had taken no time at all in sharing holos their new mascot and the kits to the entire GAR.

Depa had eagerly taken a little silver kit saying it was a sign from the force it belonged with Grey.

Plo had pretended to deliberate several days before agreeing to take the burgundy and silver spotted one but there were quickly posts of it cuddled with Wolffe both napping under Plo's cloak.

The last kit was white and red in a pattern that looked just slightly too close to the Coruscant Guard's armor that he couldn't help but enlist Hound's help in sneaking it into Fox's office.

Mace shouldn't have been surprised when Regal's offspring had apparently taken one look at Palpatine and went nuts tripping the Chancellor down a flight of stairs where, according to the unified accounts of the Guard, his lightsaber activated and he was unfortunately impaled upon it.

Mace didn't ask any further questions and accepted it despite the fact he had more than 18 stab wounds when the Jedi examined the corpse.

Running a hand over the soft fur, he took a moment to smile softly. Then he yelped as she bit his hand and flicked her ears toward the datapads he had gotten distracted from cleaning.

Yes, Regal lived up to her name.

[datotherd00d]

RSA Fanmade Dorms

Thought I should share a fleshed-out(ish) list of dorms that me, @chohouse , and @dizastermango made for Royal Sword Academy. Honesty thought that RSA should get more love (plus it was a lot of fun to make this, especially since I have some OCs that go to RSA). Also I made a Pinterest board for the dorms, the dorm uniforms, and their ceremonial robes.

The overall inspiration of these dorms were the supporting characters in the stories of the Big 7, but it’s the characters that were associated with the heroes. Now with that out of the way, here is the list!

- Iterspeculo: Spirit of Carpe Diem

Themed off of The Mad Hatter

Pronounced as “I-ter-speh-coo-loh”

Carpe Diem roughly translates to “Living in the Moment”

The complete opposite of Heartslabyul when it come to organization and tidiness

Basically an eyesore, and constant game of ‘Eye-Spy’

Dorm name was made with: ‘Speculo’ which is Latin for mirror, ‘Iter’ meaning journey, so it completely comes out to ‘Journey (through the) Looking Glass’ 

- Baoheart: Spirit of Mindfulness

 Themed off of Rafiki

Pronounced as “Bau-hart”

ALL DORM MEMBERS LIVE IN A GIANT BAOBAB TREEHOUSE! It’s pretty cool ngl

This dorm is SO chill and can be wise. They have a lot of relaxing activities like yoga and meditation sessions. Literally living that Hakuna Matata life 

Dorm name revolved around the tree that Rafiki lived in which is a Baobab tree, and the heart because it sounded better and more whimsical than tail or fang lmao

- Plimsoll: Spirit of Sharing

Themed off of Scuttle

Pronounced as “Plim-sl”

Nautical and sea port vibes with this dorm (ngl was hard to figure out, so I mixed it together)

Heavily community based! Everyone helps everyone out because why not? The more the merrier! 

Literally a silly headcanon, but the common room has a deep brown wood flooring to imitate a ship and someone made the joke of it looking like shit, so now everyone calls the common room the “Poop Deck”

Name came from the Plimsoll Line of a ship, which is a mark on the hull of a ship indicating how deep a cargo ship can travel safely to trade goods

- Sadjinn: Spirit of Friendship

Themed off of The Genie

Pronounced as “Sah-jin”

Kind of similar to Scarabia, but it has that overall “goodness” to it

Not as many parties, but still very much so community based

It’s a more creative dorm that leans more into enjoying what you have and making the most out of it with the people you have. Literally if Kalim was a dorm it would be this one.

Also, the Cave of Wonders is where the dorm resides, and it is surrounded by a beautiful oasis and small forest of sorts

Name came from: ‘Sadiq’ meaning friend in Arabic, and a Djinn (Jinn) is another name for the mythical creature of a genie (this is under the pretense of fiction and fantasy rather than the Arabic/Islamic religious aspect of Jinns) 

- Septierre: Spirit of Humility

Themed off of the Seven Dwarves

Pronounced as “Sep-tea-error”

Such a hardworking yet humble dorm. Like omg- this dorm is that meme that is like “It’s not much, but it’s honest work”

COTTAGECORE VIBES!!!

Literally all of the produce and materials for the school is from this dorm! The students in this dorm are basically all in agriculture and geology, it is wholesome and very simple living

Mostly flatlands with cottage dorm rooms/dorm housing. It’s cute ngl. A lot of orchards and mines and woodland creatures

Name came from: ‘Septem’ which is Latin for 7, and ‘Pierre’ roughly translates to ‘stone/rock’

- Fulgyros: Spirit of Growth

Themed off of Philoctetes (Phil)

Pronounced as “Fuhl-ger-ose”

Dorm of perseverance and growth (emotionally, physically, and mentally. Literally in every possible aspect)

Basically the gym bros/fraternity of the school lmao, but don’t worry, they’re usually himbos. Just want what’s best for everyone and will help achieve that goal

All Ancient Greece influences, kind of a mix between Mount Olympus and Phil’s home/training area. Ethereal and godly vibes with white and earth tones. One of the more pristine dorms, especially with their mostly white uniforms

Name comes from: ‘Fulger’ which is the Latin root word for ‘lightning’, the suffix ‘-ysos’ from Dionysus who Satyrs would be associated with (along with Pan), and ‘-os’ from mythos

- Rosasci: Spirit of Harmony

Themed off of The Three Fairies (Flora, Fauna, and Merrywheather)

Pronounced as “Roh-zeh-see"

Spirit comes from the three fairies working together to raise Aurora despite how chaotic it was. They worked in harmony together and were able to make things work. So that same vibe of responsibility and harmony of oneself and community is prominent in this dorm.

All roses imagery with no thorns. Thorns are a big nono in this dorm

Was another difficult dorm to figure out, but then again this whole school can be viewed as pretentious, so why not add in that overly sweet ‘goody-two-shoes’ aspect lol

However, this dorm is so pretty and very Fairycore with flowy and whimsical uniforms and decorations

Best way to describe the dorm vibe is the Moors in the first and second Maleficent movie

Name came from: ‘Rosaceae’ which is the botanical family name for roses. It’s a simple but pretty name.

- Bonus HCs

Snow White’s Wishing Well is the magical object(?) that sorts students into their dorms

The way it works is that you have to sing a tune or something into the well, and the well sings back to you what dorm you are sorted into. Note that the voice singing back is a collection of voices that are in perfect harmony. It’s creepy if you think about it because do those voices belong to anyone??? Who knows.

Also, students arrive to RSA in a brilliant, blinding white, pumpkin carriage drawn by horses, pegasi, unicorns, even comically large seahorses/dolphins, you name it! It’s magic- anything is possible.

Honestly think of the flying carriages in Sophia the First, and bam it’s that, but a white pumpkin! 

Everyone is alert and awake during their journey to the school, with various magical accommodations to make the trip as pleasant as possible. Hungry or thirsty? No worries, a menu with simple summoning spells fixes that. Bored? Don’t sweat- free wifi in the carriage AND a hidden movie screen to watch the latest block buster starring Vil Schoenheit  and Neige LeBlanche. It’s basically a first class seat on a magical airplane. Straight up comfort.

However, once you do arrive to the school and land, your luggage disappears (of course there is a notice before you land). Once you get your dorm and room assigned, your luggage will already be there waiting for you

Students are dropped off towards the back of the castle where staff greets the new students on the outskirts of a whimsical tree line. Upon crossing into the forest, students are magically dressed in their ceremonial robes and matching makeup . They all flood into a large whimsical pavilion full of seats (think of the one from Barbie and the 12 Dancing Princesses) that surrounds a very well known wishing well

After the ceremony, the headmaster opens portals to the Heart of the Castle where the main portals are.

RSA has a similar portal system to NRC, but the room is full of really pretty ports that fit the decorum of each dorm/school location. It’s located in the heart of the castle, which is easy access for the students and staff

That is basically all of the headcanons I had, and I hope it helps in any creativity process, or was enjoyable! Let me know if you want any more HCs or have any comments, questions, or concerns! It was a blast making this!

Also! If you want to use any of this for OCs or fanfics, please go ahead!! Just please link this post and like/reblog 🖤 I appreciate those who want to use this! Thank you!

[lamaenthel]

Good Big

Obi-Wan's morning meditation is interrupted by a little Togruta youngling who wants some attention.

|AO3|

Fandom: Star Wars

Characters: Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Qui-Gon Jinn

Total Word Count: 1,443

There is no emotion, there is peace.

Obi-Wan let his mind go as flat and tranquil as the surface of a still pond. It was imperative that he get his thoughts in order before his mission. He reached out, as Master Qui-Gon so often reminded him to do, to the Living Force; he surrounded himself with the soft, green whispers of the plants that echoed through the Room of a Thousand Fountains and used them to anchor himself to the present moment.

There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.

Despite his best efforts to stay in the here and now, doubt crept in like a fog around his presence in the Force. It brought a sticky layer of apprehension with it; was it a warning from the Force about his mission, or something else? It was frustratingly omnipresent. It felt like eyes were watching him from the dark, like bubbles of a cailpeach were breaking upon the surface of a loch. There was no definitive scream of danger he could identify, just a vague sense of dread.

There is no passion, there is serenity.

Obi-Wan rolled his shoulders and straightened his spine. The feeling of being watched intensified and split off into something more tangible; he cracked open his eye and glanced to the right. A bush of aura blossoms shook and he heard a distinct, tiny, ekekeke noise come from somewhere within. He bit down a smile and pretended not to hear it. The bush growled and shook again, then an orange and blue blur launched from within the iridescent flowers and landed on him.

"Hi Bobi!" Ahsoka said, giggling madly. She settled on her back in his lap like a tooka begging for belly scratches and blinked up at him with her big, blue-rimmed porg eyes.

"Hello, mo nighean." Obi-Wan gently booped her nose. "Were you hunting me?"

"No," she said innocently. "Just, um, just making sure nobody else was." 

"How very thoughtful of you." Obi-Wan lifted her up, recrossed his legs, then settled her upright in his lap. "And who should we expect to come looking for you? Plo, or Vereixem?"

"Vereixem," she admitted. "I can be here, though. He put up the squashes for me."

"The squashes?" Obi-Wan rapidly searched his memory for what she could possibly be referring to. 

"Full of meats." She pointed straight up; Obi-Wan followed her finger to a blue sǫnkë squash with pink stripes hanging from a tree branch high above their heads. He squinted and thought he saw a sausage poking out of one of the hollowed-out sides. "He said I can hunt 'em. I'm not 'posed to hunt the birdies because it, um, it hurts 'em, even if I careful."

Obi-Wan was impressed by the creativity of the casualty-free enrichment activity for the tiny huntress. "Would you like to meditate with me? I've a very important mission to prepare for."

"What's a mission?" Ahsoka asked, tilting her head. 

"It's a task that the Council gives a Jedi when they're grown up," Obi-Wan replied. "I'm headed to Naboo. Have you ever heard of Naboo?"

"Naboo?" She slipped her chubby little hand behind his neck and played with his Padawan braid. "I like that name. Naboooo—"

"Yes, Naboo," Obi-Wan chuckled. "Perhaps I should bring you along. We can use your Empathy to make trade negotiations smoother, hmm?"

"Negoshins?" Ahsoka asked worriedly. Her face screwed up in thought. "I don't know what they is." 

"It's when people want to do things in different ways, but they can only do it one way," Obi-Wan explained. "So they have to talk it out and decide what's fair for everyone."

"Oh." Ahsoka still looked worried, but she raised her chin bravely. "If you, um, you need my help with 'em, then I help."

"It would make things easier, but I believe Master Qui-Gon and I will be able to handle them." Obi-Wan rested his chin between her montral nubs. "I leave in a few hours. Would you like to help me meditate, or would you prefer to keep hunting your squashes?"

"How long will you be gone?" Ahsoka asked, disappointment heavy in the Force around her.

"I don't expect the negotiations to take too long. A few days, perhaps."

"Then I can help you, with, um, do this." Ahsoka closed her eyes and matched his breathing. "There is no emotion, there is peace." 

"Good girl." Obi-Wan pressed a kiss between her montrals before he closed his eyes and allowed the Living Force to envelop him again; this time, with a small, purring anchor in his lap emanating happiness in a way that felt oddly… blue. "Is that you helping, mo nighean?" he asked her with a quiet chuckle.

"You wanted help, so I give you special 'Soka help," she said. She brushed his arm hair back and forth against the grain with careful little fingers. "I not pushin', don't worry."

"I didn't think you were pushing, dearest," Obi-Wan assured her.

" 'Cause we talked about it and you said it wasn't nice." Ahsoka craned her head back and looked at him upside down. "I don't push feelings anymore."

"That's because you're a very good girl who listens." Obi-Wan kissed her nose, making her giggle. "But why are you giving me special 'Soka help?"

Ahsoka reached up and gently touched the mole on his forehead. "You got all buzzy and… and, um, light. White, I mean. Why you nervous, Bobi?" 

Obi-Wan sighed. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "I just have a feeling that something very big is about to happen."

"Bad big, or good big?"

Obi-Wan bit the inside of his cheek. "Both, I think," he said softly. "It's hard to say right now."

"I think it'll be good big," Ahsoka decided. "It's gonna be really, really good, and it'll make us smile and make us happy."

"I certainly hope so." Obi-Wan suddenly felt the strong urge for a nap, but its abruptness made him suspect that it wasn't an urge that belonged to him. "Are you tired, mo nighean?" 

"No," Ahsoka lied, yawning.

"Mmm. I think maybe you're a little more—"

"Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon's voice was so unexpected that it made him jump. "Didn't you tell me you were coming here to meditate?" 

"I did, Master," Obi-Wan said defensively, immediately blushing. "I got a bit… distracted, is all."

"Mmm. You seemed to have picked up a little tick again. I did warn you about going through the brush, did I not?" Qui-Gon's hair fell forward around his face as he bent over. "Hello, Ahsoka."

"Hi, Kai-Gon," Ahsoka said cheerily. Though her Basic had strongly improved since she had come to the Temple a year ago, she hadn't quite mastered the first syllable of his Master's name yet. 

"Are you distracting my Padawan, little one?" Qui-Gon put his hands out to pick her up. 

"No, I helpin'," she insisted, settling on his hip. "Special 'Soka help."

"Ah. The very best kind." Qui-Gon rubbed his nose against hers gently and made her laugh. "Vereixem asked me if I'd seen her when I arrived. Given that I knew you had come here to meditate, Obi-Wan, I had a feeling that she wouldn't be far." He looked down his nose at her knowingly. "It's nap time for you."

"Not tired!" Ahsoka protested, fighting not to yawn again.

Qui-Gon chuckled. "That, little tick, is a fight you'll have to have with Vereixem. Now say goodbye to Obi-Wan."

Ahsoka reached a hand down to Obi-Wan. "Bye, Bobi," she said sadly.

Obi-Wan kissed her fingers. "Goodbye, little one."

" 'Member, it's a good big." She waved at him over Qui-Gon's shoulder as he walked away with her, taking away the warm blue feeling of happiness with them.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and surrendered himself to the Force. By the time his Master returned, he'd begun to gently float a few inches off the ground. "So what is this, ah, good big I've heard about?" Qui-Gon asked lightly as he rejoined him.

"I'm not sure," Obi-Wan answered honestly. "I have a feeling things are going to change, Master, but I'm not sure for the better."

Qui-Gon crossed his legs on the ground across from him with a quiet grunt. Obi-Wan could tell by the way he leaned to the side that his back was bothering him today. "Stay in the present, Obi-Wan. The Force decides what will come next. All we can do is make sure that we are in the place where it needs us the most, and that we let it guide our hands when the time comes."

"Of course, Master." Obi-Wan bowed his head and ignored the way that the loch in his mind bubbled.

MÁOR-GRASTA TRANSLATIONS

Mo nighean: my girl

Cailpeach: an equine ambush predator that lives in lakes, native to Stewjon

MORE NOTES

Vereixim: Veh-RAY-shim

Taglist: @starwarsficnetwork, @soliloquy-of-nemo

Dividers: @saradika-graphics

[archaic-lord]

Of Dust and Flowers, The Seelies Who Survived

Preface

To give some context on this theory, this idea sprang to mind when I came across a twitter post sharing an entry from Honey Hunter World detailing an unreleased 4th volume to the "Customs of Liyue" book. The volume in particular talks about Glaze Lilies in a historical and cultural context. The information presented within made me think of this theory:

"Could Guizhong have been a Seelie?"

After doing some researching, I've come to conclude that it has a high likelihood of being true! So to explain this, I will discuss it in this order:

Guizhong and the Goddess of Flowers are of similar descent

Seelies and their similarities with the two

With that laid out, let's take a look at...

Part 1. Guizhong and the Flower Goddess

Firstly, let us establish who they were and what they did during their life.

Guizhong

The God of Dust, Guizhong, was one of the founding deities of Liyue. Originally, she took dominion over an area now known as the Guili Plains together with Morax. She was incredibly kind and wise, and took great interest in machinery.

During her reign, she taught the people under her protection how to live and survive. In particular, she taught them agriculture. She also had 4 wise tenets whom the people of the Guili Assembly followed:

"To unite in ambition is to be steadfast and immovable for all time."

"Wisdom is like water, it nourishes all those who receive it and in it is a reflection of the truth."

'"Fortify the bones, that movement be supple when the time comes."

"Virtue grows tall like a tree, though there be shade it will flourish forever"

Guizhong is heavily linked to Glaze Lilies, and seems to have been the one who created them! This is mentioned in the unreleased volume of "Customs of Liyue"

Disclaimer: the photo above is unreleased content from the game. it's been at least a year since it was leaked, but they've not added it after all this time so please take it with a grain of salt.

"[Guizhong] released glittering blue seeds from her long sleeves, scattering them over the Guili Plains."

Here are other instances of Guizhong being linked to Glaze Lilies:

The Goddess of Flowers

As of version 3.2, not much is known about the Goddess of Flowers yet. The specific details we do know are highly suspect however.

The Goddess of Flowers was one of the 3 wise God-Kings who co-founded Sumeru thousands of years ago. She was also the first among the 3 to die via unknown means.

She had several titles such as "Mistress of Dreams", "Lord of Flowers", "Mistress of Dreams and Oases". It seems that her abilities did not just stop at proliferating flora, she calmed people's minds and produced flowing water from her sleeves.

She and the Lord of Deserts established Ay-Khanoum, the city of Jinn and the Moon. Following her death, Ay-Khanoum dissolved into smaller societies.

She was also affiliated with the Padisarah flowers.

The Connection

So now, to summarize the info, let's take a look at the similarities between Guizhong and the Goddess of Flowers! In essence, both of them were:

Gods who were known for their wisdom and gentle nature. They got along with 2 other god friends.

Gods who co-founded an ancient human society along with their god friends.

In possession of esoteric knowledge and guided mankind.

Both the first to die among their god friends, which was followed by a calamity that damaged their established civilization.

Associated with a flower that became rare or extinct following their deaths.

Seeing this now, it's very unlikely that their connections could be mere coincidence, no? After all, their stories went exactly the same save for a few variables like geography.

Hence, I'd like to propose that this is Hoyoverse telling us there's something about them that may be crucial. What struck me as odd about the unreleased volume were several moments that are only ever seen in the Sumeru!

Referring to Guizhong and Morax as "God-Kings"

A god proliferating a certain type of flower across a large area.

Suffice it to say, I think it was very intentional that Hoyoverse decided to remove this before we got any more proper Goddess of Flowers lore. I'm doing a minor prediction that we may come across this volume officially some time in the future.

So.. why try to connect Guizhong and the Goddess of Flowers? Well, this is important in proving Guizhong's origin as a Seelie, as we shall see in...

Part 2. Seelies and Such, Silly or Similarity?

Before we tackle the meat of this speculation, let's set up one last assumption to make our case. This assumption being:

"The Goddess of Flowers was a Seelie"

While it's only been teased at, it's been hinted quite enough to make it pretty much true.

Arama, during the Aranyaka storyline, mentions a survivor of the Seelie calamity befriending King Deshret and Rukkhadevata.

Nilou mentions her costume being based on the Goddess of Flowers' clothing. This includes a pair of horns that are also seen in Seelies.

The Goddess of Flowers is associated with the Moon. The 3 Moon Sisters were said to have lived alongside the Seelies.

So now, given the trail Hoyoverse has given to connect Guizhong and her, do we see such similar traits? As it turns out, yes!

Floral Resemblance

The first comparison I'll be making concerns the similarities with flowers.

Within the game, there is another flower that behaves and looks similar to the Glaze Lilies that Guizhong are linked to. This flower is the Nilotpala Lotus.

Both flowers, aside from sharing the same color scheme, have the peculiar behavior of only blooming at night. In other words, when the Moon is out. The Nilotpala Lotus, in particular, was produced by the Moon Sisters as they stepped on the earth.

So now, we've connected Guizhong and the Moon Sisters through parallels in their respective flowers. But this doesn't reflect the qualities seen in the Padisarah. Why not?

It's because haven't seen the real Padisarahs. The ones we encounter are just mimicries done by Rukkhadevata. This is similar to how Glaze Lilies are now almost exclusively cultivated in farms. The only reason they still live in their endangered state is due to Morax's influence.

Seelie Service

Moving on, Guizhong also bears a striking resemblance to how Seelies guided humans. Simply, Seelies used their obscure knowledge to help mankind develop many things.

This is eerily similar to Guizhong's actions, as well as her 4 philosophical commandments, no?

"To unite in ambition is to be steadfast and immovable for all time."

"Wisdom is like water, it nourishes all those who receive it and in it is a reflection of the truth."

'"Fortify the bones, that movement be supple when the time comes."

"Virtue grows tall like a tree, though there be shade it will flourish forever"

I think it's not strange to see how all of her tenets mention nature and complex concepts like time or truth to convey how to strengthen her people's bonds. Not to mention, it's mentioned repeatedly how beautiful Guizhong was.

With this in mind, I think it's safe to say Guizhong at least has done things similar to Seelies. Additionally, she is one of the only deities who have been shown to possess so many traits similar to them.

Now, Guizhong being associated closely with the Moon Sisters puts into question her status as "God of Dust". Why dust? To this, I introduce this piece of information found within Moonpiercer as well.

I am also theorizing that, while Seelies may not be of the same lineage as the Moon Sisters, they posses traits that are found within them!

Titillating Titles & More Similarities

Let's use the Goddess of Flowers as an example. We know that she is not simply just a Flower Goddess. Ironically, it seems as though producing flowers is just something she happened to also do. Many descriptions of her focus on her ability to give dreams and produce water.

In other words, the titles they got as gods are merely one facet of their being, compared to other gods like Marchosius, Boreas, Decarabian, and even some of the archons.

Just as the Goddess of Flowers possesses traits found in the Moon Sisters (flowers, water, dreaming), Guizhong also exhibits these qualities (esoteric wisdom, agriculture, dust).

Something I forgot to mention is Volume 2 of 'Records of the Gallant'. In it, not only do we see Guizhong being mentioned, she is also depicted alongside Glaze Lilies, the starry sky, AND Seelies.

Something I also just realized in the making of this theory is the mirrored descriptions of Guizhong and the Goddess of Flowers' appearances. One of these was the matter of sleeves.

They are the only gods to my knowledge to have ever used their sleeves as part of their powers. Guizhong sent forth Glaze Lily seeds from her sleeves, while the Goddess of Flowers poured fresh water from hers.

Also, the color of their clothing reference each other's flowers. Guizhong wears an indigo robe, which resembles the Padisarahs. The Goddess of Flowers, if Nilou's dress is to be trusted, wore blue and white clothes, resembling Glaze Lilies.

Part 3. In Conclusion

Given how many elements about Guizhong matches the Moon Sisters, Seelies, and especially the Goddess of Flowers, it's incredibly hard to now just look at these examples as happenstance, ya know?

I originally researched this topic because of Guizhong and the Goddess of Flowers' parallels in sleeves, but the more I looked into it, the more apparent the parallels became.

From their wisdom to their flowers, it just makes too much sense for me!

So here's the scenario that I'm proposing to end this theory:

A long time ago, when the nation of the Seelies and Moon Sisters fell into ruin, many perished from the disaster. Despite this, a number of Seelies managed to survive. They descended upon the earth in different parts of Teyvat, some even in the area now called the Dark Sea.

Two of these Seelies, each of whom resembled the Moon Sisters in beauty and ability, landed far from each other. And though their stories would deviate in some ways, their fates aligned nonetheless.

She who wielded the irrational wisdom of dreams established a thriving nation in the scorching desert, and she who wielded the rational wisdom of technology did the same amidst the rocky landscape. When they perished, their nations would suffer tremendously.

One of their friends would mourn and change his personality drastically, and another would sacrifice themselves, reverting into a smaller, weaker form.

The flowers that they oh so cherished would almost be wiped away, but friendship gives way to preserving your legacy.

Part 4. Closing Remarks

If you, the one reading this right now, have managed to make it all the way to the end of the post, give yourself a pat on the back!

My name is Noxis, and this marks my first, official post on Tumblr! This is part of a personal project I'm doing to interact with the Genshin Community, and it also serves as my first time actually visiting Tumblr regularly!

If you did read all of this, please excuse my way of organizing and discussing as I'm pretty new to the platform. I'll be sure to learn along the way however, and with it more Genshin lore speculations and theories >:))

[spacemagicandlaserswords]

Tech Lives Reason #1a

Expanding on the whole No Body = Not Dead thing.

We have seen this many times before in Star Wars. It's basically a trope at this point. An important character appears to die in a definitely yep-they're-very-dead manner and then we discover later on that they somehow managed to survive and are miraculously alive! Let's go through some examples.

Echo. The poor man was literally blown up in an explosion and still survived. It was a pretty grim survival, he lost most of his right arm, everything from the hips down, sustained who knows how many other significant, probably lethal injuries and was tortured at the hands of the Techno Union and yet, Echo still survived, and was rescued as well.

Maul. Cut in half with a lightsaber by Obi-Wan and then fell to his death down a reactor shaft. Still somehow survived (through pure spite?) and made himself new legs and a lower torso from whatever he could scrounge up from living on a rubbish tip planet.

Obi-Wan. Fell to his apparent death after Cody order him to be blasted off the side of a canyon wall when Order 66 happened. Turn ups miraculously alive in the same movie.

"Somehow Palpatine returned" ... Are you actually joking?! That is an absolute boatload of space magic sci-fi "science" deus ex machina hand waving to magically solve your plot point problems. Especially as at the end of Return of the Jedi we saw him very definitely thrown to his death down a reactor shaft on the Death Star, which is promptly blown into smithereens. Palps is space dust at this point. Also, you do not get to get away with making the magnificent Oscar Isaac, playing the absolutely stunning Poe Dameron (hello previous blorbo), say that nonsense line and then think you can also get away with Tech falling to his death at the start of an episode (more about that particular grumble later).

Anakin. What was left of him after Obi-Wan had basically lopped off all his limbs was a charred and severely burned head and body that was literally on fire. The man basically had a lava bath and still survived. Again, a pretty grim survival but he was still alive and went on to terrorise the galaxy.

Reva. She is run through with a lightsaber by Darth Vader in the penultimate episode of the Obi-Wan Kenobi series. This is the exact same injury that killed Qui-Gon Jinn in his battle with Maul at the end of The Phantom Menace. Yet Reva survives somehow (again, through pure spite?) and was given an ambiguous future after receiving a pep talk from Obi-Wan and basically being given his blessing and a chance to now atone for what she did as an Inquisitor.

Boba Fett. Fell into the maw of the sarlacc in the Great Pit of Carkoon at the start of Return of the Jedi, which came out in 1983. Presumed dead for 38 years until the first episodes of The Book of Boba Fett, where we see him somehow manage to get out of the stomach of said Sarlacc while being literally eaten and digested alive. Again, a pretty grim survival. He barely made it out and was definitely permanently injured from the ordeal but Boba still survived.

Hunter. The bandana space dad himself fell from the ramp of the Marauder on Daro. He literally bounced down a mountain, smacked into multiple solid tree branches and then hit the ground hard. If we're talking about long falls that should've killed a character, or at the very least cause significant and major injuries, that is one of them. But Hunter shook it off with just one stumble as he pushed himself to his feet and was standing and still giving orders moments later when he was captured. Plus we saw no indication of any injuries because there were none of those ridiculous bandages over his armour and blacks (more about that grumble later too). What I think might've been forgotten about this fall is that they were all quite a long way up a mountain on Daro when Hunter fell. The Marauder was quite high up and I'd hazard a guess that the distance it was in the air was not too far removed from how high up those rail cars were. Probably not quite as far up but not as far away as you might think.

Various clones. This is a bit of a different one but clones seem exceptionally hardy, tough, and basically built to survive. From what I've read, there seem to be multiple examples of various clones getting shot, blown up, badly injured or otherwise appearing to die and then magically appearing later very much not dead. This is where my knowledge of clones falls down though because I never watched The Clone Wars and Rebels when they came out. I've only just started watching TCW (still in season 1) and was planning on continuing after The Bad Batch Season 2 finale but I think I'm going to need a while now before I get back into it because of all of, well, *hand waves*, that. I've been meaning to write about this in more detail so hopefully I'll have a link to this when that's done (here's hoping future me remembers to update this post) (Edit: future me here! Here's a link to that post).

There are various other more loose examples as well that are still valid and worth keeping in mind.

Ezra disappeared into hyperspace with Thrawn on some purrgil at the end of Rebels and is presumably, somewhere?

Rey died at the end of The Rise of Skywalker but was somehow brought back to life by Kylo Ren/Ben Solo/whoever he was at that point, who then promptly karks it after kissing her for some reason?! (still peeved at this ending)

Fennec was left for dead in season 1 of The Mandalorian after being shot in the stomach. She was saved by a conveniently lurking Boba, given some cybernetic innards and appears fine and dandy in season 2.

All of this is basically a long list and way of saying that Star Wars has a history of doing this and there are plenty of reasons to believe that Tech isn't dead.

[lee-the-dino]

When you have a nightmare

Dean x Sibling! Reader, Sam x Sibling! Reader

Summary: Y/N wakes up from a nightmare and Dean and Sam try and comfort them, even though they insist they’re fine.

Warnings: blood (?) That's literally it pretty much, mild angst (?)

You awoke in a decrepit house covered in dust, ash, and garbage. The wood home was rotting and the windows were broken. Outside everything was dark as an eerie breeze shook the leaves on the trees outside. No one else was in the house. At least, not to your knowledge. You tried to get up, but your head ached like nothing you had ever felt before. You winced in pain and pressed your eyes shut, reaching up to feel your forehead.

Blood.

Your heartbeat picked up at the red, viscous liquid appearing in your hands. Where were you? What happened? You stood, looking around the room you occupied. It looked like it was once a living room, with stairs, and a front door in sight out in the hall as well as old chairs and musty furniture around you.

“Sam? … Dean?” you called out. You didn’t hear either of your brothers respond, instead, you heard shuffling above you as the wind picked up. It seemed to howl at you, begging you to turn back. Your breath hitched as you looked out the window, and then to the staircase. It looked like it would break at any weight put on it, but once you got closer you could vaguely see a pattern of footprints you didn’t recognize indenting the layer of dust that covered the wood. You had to find Sam and Dean. You made your way up the stairs, trying your best not to let the creaks of the old oak disclose your location to any unwanted beings. As you climbed to the second floor, your heart dropped.

There stood a man in the shadows, no, not a man, a jinn, as it sucked the life out of your brothers. They were both hooked up to IVs that hung from their necks and their bodies were hung from ropes tied to the ceiling, clasping a hold to their wrists. They looked like skeletons, their faces pale and eyes sunken in as you could see blood slowly drip into each IV bag. You gasped at the sight. Suddenly, the jinn whipped his head around, blood still dripping from his mouth and blue eyes glaring into your own.

With a swift movement, you took out the knife you always had strapped to your leg and lunged at the monster. You tried to cut his neck, but he was faster. He pinned you to the wall by your throat and began to put you in the same trance that your brothers couldn’t seem to escape. You struggled against his grasp as you found the strength to kick him in the stomach. The jinn fell back as you were able to grasp your footing once again. Before he could get up, you slashed his neck, killing him. Not letting another moment pass, you rushed over to Sam and Dean.

You carefully took out the IVs that drained their life away and cut the ropes that kept their wrists bound tightly together. They sunk to the floor, not moving.

“Please, please…” you begged. “Wake up!” you shouted, tears brimming your eyes.

Sam opened his eyes slowly, Dean following suit shortly after. A wave of relief washed over you.

“Hey! Hey, you’re ok! I’m here, you’re going to be ok!” you said, frantically. You seemed to assure yourself more than your brothers. “I-I don’t think we’re making it out of this one…” Sam said to you in a raspy, tired voice. “I’m sorry, Kid…I’m sorry we couldn’t be there for you.” Dean said. “No, no! I won’t let you die! Not yet! You-You’re supposed to be my older brothers!” You pleaded, watching as life drained from both of their eyes. “Wh-what am I supposed to do without you? please…PLEASE!”

“PLEASE!” you screamed, as you shot up in bed. “Wha…what?” You whispered, confused. You were back in the dark motel room you and your brothers shared. Before you could comprehend what happened, you heard the click of a lamp as the room was now illuminated.

“Hey, what’s with all the screamin?” you heard Dean say to you, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes from the bed on the opposite side of the motel room. “Yeah,” you turned to see your other brother, Sam, sit up in the bed you shared that night, “Y/N, what has gotten into you?” he asked, both brothers were slightly annoyed to be woken up in the middle of the night, but despite their expressions, their voices were laced with concern.

You knew they were worried about you, you knew the look they were giving you. “I-I’m fine,” you replied, tears brimming your eyes once again. The things you saw from your nightmare were still clear as day…

Sam and Dean gave each other a knowing look. You always had nightmares, but recently, they’ve been getting worse. With the stress of moving around every week, hunting, and now your father’s death, you've been having vivid night terrors almost every night. Your brothers were worried. You knew they were worried, but you were frustrated that they always had to look after you. You were fully capable of handling yourself and didn’t want to put more on your brother’s plates with something as pointless as your dreams. You were worried that how much they had saved you, you wouldn’t be able to return the favor. You couldn’t save your father from the demon, so what made you think you could save your brothers if they needed you as desperately as you needed them?

Sam looked at you, a bit less tired than before, “Y/N, are you sure you’re ok-”

“I’M FINE!” you yelled, taking both Sam and Dean aback. You wiped your tears and looked up at their shocked expressions.

“I need some air,” you stated, as you quickly slipped on your shoes and left the motel room.

“Y/N!-” Dean called after you, but you were already gone.

You looked at the night sky and streetlights that lined the road just outside the motel. The night was peaceful. You sighed and shoved your hands into your hoodie pockets as a cool breeze brushed over your frame, making chills run down your spine. Images of your nightmare flashed before your eyes. You shook your head trying to get rid of them.

“Great…now I’m becoming a human etch-a-sketch,” you said to yourself as you made your way to the vending machines. You took out a couple of quarters and placed them in the glowing box as your favorite drink fell with a clanking sound. You grabbed it and slid down to the floor beside the machine. You sighed again. It had been a long night and you had just come back from a hunt a few hours prior. What if I couldn’t have saved them then, what then? You thought to yourself before taking a swig to try and ease your mind. You rested your gaze on the fluorescent lights above you before you heard a familiar voice.

“Hey,”

You looked up to see Dean standing a couple of feet away from you, wearing his signature leather jacket over his pajamas. “Kind of cold out here for a “drink by the poolside”, eh?” he said, smiling a bit, trying to lighten the mood. You just looked down to the floor, not saying anything in response. His smile faltered. He looked away for a moment and sighed. He walked over to you and leaned on to the wall next to you before sliding down into a sitting position that matched yours.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked.

You shrugged in response.

He took it as a yes.

“So uh…” he began, “Listen, you know I’m not into all this “fluffy-feel-y” crap, but I’m worried about you,” You rolled your eyes a bit, “When aren’t you?” you responded, almost so quiet he couldn’t hear. He chuckled a bit, “Yeah, you caught me there. But, tonight was different,” He began again, “What happened in there?”

You sighed. You didn’t want to admit what you were feeling to Dean, hell, he’s already got so much on his mind, but you knew with the look he was giving you, that you couldn’t just ignore his question. At least not forever.

“I just-” you started, tears starting to burn your eyes again, “I just don’t want you to get hurt because of me slowing you down. I mean, I know I’m not as trained as you, but I don’t want my lack of experience to end up being one of your deaths,” Dean looked at you, a bit surprised at your worry, but mainly concerned about how long you had this on your mind. You continued, “I mean, with Dad and everything, I don’t know what I’d do without you guys anymore.” you said. A tear rolled down your face, “Fuck-” you began, lifting your sleeve to stop the tears coming in.

“Woah, woah, woah, Kid, I didn’t know you were thinkin’ about all of this,” Dean said, trying to comfort you, “How long has this been goin’ on for?” He asked. You shrugged. “I dunno, a few months I guess,” you responded. Dean sighed and ran a hand down his face, “Look-” he started. You looked up to meet his gaze, “Nothing’s gonna happen to us, okay? I’ll make damn sure of that. Any son of a bitch that messes with our family gets sent straight back to hell where they came from. And you’re a damn sharpshooter and hunter, a bit inexperienced, sure, but that’s why you have us. And Sam and I, we’re not going anywhere,” He said. You smiled slightly, and Dean put a hand on your shoulder.

“Here, let’s go back to our room. You really won’t be a whole lot of help to us if you get a damn cold,” he said. You laughed a bit and let him guide you back to the motel room.

“You doing okay?” Sam asked, putting whatever book he was researching down. “Yeah,” you sniffled, “I’m okay,” you responded. “I’ll tell you what,” Dean said, “I’ll let you pick out a movie to watch so you can fall asleep easier, how does that sound?” he asked. You nodded, and you and your brothers filed to sit on Dean’s bed that faced the TV. You looked up at Sam, a bit confused as to why he didn’t just go back to bed, “I’m awake now, so…” He trailed off, always seeming to be able to read your mind. You smiled up at him as you turned your attention to the television to put on your favorite movie.

Not long after, you drifted off to sleep, resting your head on Dean’s shoulder as he put his arm around you while Sam gently rested a blanket over you. You snuggled deeper into your oldest brother’s shoulder as the Winchester brothers started to drift off themselves.

You knew you would get more nightmares, and you knew on the next hunt you would be slower than your brothers. But, you also knew that your brothers would have your back to keep each one of you safe, and finally, you knew that if you had another nightmare they would be there for you when you woke up, no matter what. As long as you were together, no monster nor evil could ever harm you. With that, you could finally rest peacefully.

***

Thanks for reading my first fic!

[bestworstcase]

thinking about those two deer in the lost fable again. out of all the assets created just for this one episode, why?

like… it’s not random. the only other animals in this story have been amber’s horse, zwei, and the branwens’ bird forms. all have some narrative relevance, a clear connection to a character that justifies the expense and effort of modeling them. and then in the lost fable—an episode that was always going to be a heavy lift technically and financially for the sheer amount of ground to cover and novel assets required—has these two deer. they’re only on screen for like two seconds.

it’s narratively motivated. the lost fable is a highly symbolic episode and that symbolism foreshadows the ever after / ascension / all the v9 lore quite strongly; it follows that the intended symbolism of this shot demanded the presence of these deer.

the god of light has deer antlers. in the blacksmith’s story, the first act of destruction is to eat; darkness eats, light does not. light holds himself at a distance, he designs, he does not live. these deer are grazing. salem appears from a plume of smoke at the base of the withered tree, and the deer startle at her approach and look up at her. the shot transitions to salem looking upon the grimm in the ruins of a town—

“she cursed the gods, she cursed the universe. she cursed everything—everything but herself,” says jinn. but her expression isn’t anger. (always check her eyebrows.) it’s more intense concentration, intense thought…

…which brings her back to the pool of grimm. jinn says that “fate” led her back here because that’s what ozpin believes. but this sequence begins with those deer, eating. destruction in its purest unadulterated form. salem visually emerges from the withered tree. she’s observing the grimm and she’s thinking. if the fountain of life had given her immortality, then surely the pools of grimm would finally take it away—not “finally let her die.”

rolls over.

the fountain of life gave her infinite life. salem hoped the pool of grimm would take it away. not kill. not destroy. infinite life. if you take from an infinite quantity, an infinite quantity still remains. this force of pure destruction could not destroy, so it created…

destruction first, to clear the wilderness away. darkness eats the tree’s brambles and through this act creation is born. jinn’s telling distorts through ozpin’s belief, but the truth is there. pure destruction and infinite life are not in conflict; rather, destruction feeds life.

the pool of grimm did take from her life—subtract from the infinite and the infinite remains—she’s torn apart and remade. creativity, to imagine what, and who, could replace the wilderness.

jinn tells this story, ozpin’s story, in a way that obfuscates salem’s real agency and her personhood, casting her alternately as tragic object of fate and inhuman monster. fate led her back to the land of darkness; a being of infinite life with a desire for pure destruction.

he believes salem wanted to die when she leapt into the pool of grimm.

did she?

the deer, the grimm, herself, the pool of grimm. wilderness and ruin. all that remained. i arrive at the edge of the world […] should i kneel?/what should i feel?/will i fall apart?/maybe that’s all i want […] and in my heart it’s there/standing tall enough to fix it all/it’s just a new beginning/it’s just a different ending […] i am everything and nothing/all at once/i’ll meet you at the horizon/where we first met/where i died, i’ll be born again…

(something. something. without you i am nothing, but because of you, i am everything. self-similar narrative.)

the edge of the world. . .

mutters. sow the death and reap the seed -> the moon will sadly watch the roses die -> a rose will grow to be a seed/from every life another leads -> some roses will never bloom. the burning rose, the shattered moon.

did. she know—did she have an idea that destroying herself would create a new world? destruction to clear the wilderness, creativity to imagine its replacement.

“they could claim the powers of their creators for themselves and in turn perfect their own design; all they needed to do was destroy their old masters.” -> “this was it, this had to be it, the brother’s grimm, the pools of black that continued to give rise to horrific nightmares” -> “we could be the gods of this world. […] create the paradise the old gods could not.”

like. it’s not just

it’s those fucking deer. eating. the grimm picking over the ruins. (grimm eat their prey.) salem, observing, thinking. “the gods had hoped that salem would learn from her eternal curse, and she did.” the god of light bade her learn the importance of life and death, and she did. and then she jumped into the pool of grimm and created remnant. a new world. a completely unfamiliar world–

…oh. ohhh

“magic was a gift from the gods that all could wield” -> “without the blessings of the gods, no one could perform magic like mankind was once capable of”

and

“aura is a manifestation of the soul, a life force that runs through every living creature on remnant.” we could be the gods of this world.

how does pyrrha unlock jaune’s aura? “for it is in passing we achieve immortality; through this we become a paragon of virtue and glory, infinite in distance and unbound by death. i release your soul, and by my shoulder protect thee.” a religious mantra echoing salem’s idea of transcendence. magic was a gift from the gods that all could wield; aura is a manifestation of the soul that everyone has, though only a select few are privileged by ozma’s institutions to learn. “with enough training and focus,” salem says, “a user’s aura can turn them into much more than just a man.” the illustration is ozpin’s silhouette—but ozma’s power isn’t derived from aura, it’s magic, and the infinite man is fond of saying that he is “only a man, not even a very good one,” and salem herself sees him as diminished, as lessened. he’s the image of “just a man.” a person’s aura can make them much more than ozma. much more than the brothers’ design.

our powers surpass all others.

salem is grimm. even if she has aura, she cannot use it to protect herself. the gods gave humans magic and then took it back; salem threw herself into the pool of grimm and it broke her apart and—symbolically if not literally—took away her aura and gave it to the people of remnant, reborn from the ashes of her rebellion. a semblance is the outward manifestation of one’s soul. she wanted humanity to claim the powers of their creators and perfect their own design, and… with enough training and focus, a user’s aura can turn them into something much more than just a man.

[oakpear]

The End Poem

I see the player you mean.

PLAYERNAME?

Yes. Take care. It has reached a higher level now. It can read our thoughts.

That doesn't matter. It thinks we are part of the game.

I like this player. It played well. It did not give up.

It is reading our thoughts as though they were words on a screen.

That is how it chooses to imagine many things, when it is deep in the dream of a game.

Words make a wonderful interface. Very flexible. And less terrifying than staring at the reality behind the screen.

They used to hear voices. Before players could read. Back in the days when those who did not play called the players witches, and warlocks. And players dreamed they flew through the air, on sticks powered by demons.

What did this player dream?

This player dreamed of sunlight and trees. Of fire and water. It dreamed it created. And it dreamed it destroyed. It dreamed it hunted, and was hunted. It dreamed of shelter.

Hah, the original interface. A million years old, and it still works. But what true structure did this player create, in the reality behind the screen?

It worked, with a million others, to sculpt a true world in a fold of the [scrambled], and created a [scrambled] for [scrambled], in the [scrambled].

It cannot read that thought.

No. It has not yet achieved the highest level. That, it must achieve in the long dream of life, not the short dream of a game.

Does it know that we love it? That the universe is kind?

Sometimes, through the noise of its thoughts, it hears the universe, yes.

But there are times it is sad, in the long dream. It creates worlds that have no summer, and it shivers under a black sun, and it takes its sad creation for reality.

To cure it of sorrow would destroy it. The sorrow is part of its own private task. We cannot interfere.

Sometimes when they are deep in dreams, I want to tell them, they are building true worlds in reality. Sometimes I want to tell them of their importance to the universe. Sometimes, when they have not made a true connection in a while, I want to help them to speak the word they fear.

It reads our thoughts.

Sometimes I do not care. Sometimes I wish to tell them, this world you take for truth is merely [scrambled] and [scrambled], I wish to tell them that they are [scrambled] in the [scrambled]. They see so little of reality, in their long dream.

And yet they play the game.

But it would be so easy to tell them...

Too strong for this dream. To tell them how to live is to prevent them living.

I will not tell the player how to live.

The player is growing restless.

I will tell the player a story.

But not the truth.

No. A story that contains the truth safely, in a cage of words. Not the naked truth that can burn over any distance.

Give it a body, again.

Yes. Player...

Use its name.

PLAYERNAME. Player of games.

Good.

Take a breath, now. Take another. Feel air in your lungs. Let your limbs return. Yes, move your fingers. Have a body again, under gravity, in air. Respawn in the long dream. There you are. Your body touching the universe again at every point, as though you were separate things. As though we were separate things.

Who are we? Once we were called the spirit of the mountain. Father sun, mother moon. Ancestral spirits, animal spirits. Jinn. Ghosts. The green man. Then gods, demons. Angels. Poltergeists. Aliens, extraterrestrials. Leptons, quarks. The words change. We do not change.

We are the universe. We are everything you think isn't you. You are looking at us now, through your skin and your eyes. And why does the universe touch your skin, and throw light on you? To see you, player. To know you. And to be known. I shall tell you a story.

Once upon a time, there was a player.

The player was you, PLAYERNAME.

Sometimes it thought itself human, on the thin crust of a spinning globe of molten rock. The ball of molten rock circled a ball of blazing gas that was three hundred and thirty thousand times more massive than it. They were so far apart that light took eight minutes to cross the gap. The light was information from a star, and it could burn your skin from a hundred and fifty million kilometres away.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was a miner, on the surface of a world that was flat, and infinite. The sun was a square of white. The days were short; there was much to do; and death was a temporary inconvenience.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was lost in a story.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was other things, in other places. Sometimes these dreams were disturbing. Sometimes very beautiful indeed. Sometimes the player woke from one dream into another, then woke from that into a third.

Sometimes the player dreamed it watched words on a screen.

Let's go back.

The atoms of the player were scattered in the grass, in the rivers, in the air, in the ground. A woman gathered the atoms; she drank and ate and inhaled; and the woman assembled the player, in her body.

And the player awoke, from the warm, dark world of its mother's body, into the long dream.

And the player was a new story, never told before, written in letters of DNA. And the player was a new program, never run before, generated by a sourcecode a billion years old. And the player was a new human, never alive before, made from nothing but milk and love.

You are the player. The story. The program. The human. Made from nothing but milk and love.

Let's go further back.

The seven billion billion billion atoms of the player's body were created, long before this game, in the heart of a star. So the player, too, is information from a star. And the player moves through a story, which is a forest of information planted by a man called Julian, on a flat, infinite world created by a man called Markus, that exists inside a small, private world created by the player, who inhabits a universe created by...

Shush. Sometimes the player created a small, private world that was soft and warm and simple. Sometimes hard, and cold, and complicated. Sometimes it built a model of the universe in its head; flecks of energy, moving through vast empty spaces. Sometimes it called those flecks "electrons" and "protons".

Sometimes it called them "planets" and "stars".

Sometimes it believed it was in a universe that was made of energy that was made of offs and ons; zeros and ones; lines of code. Sometimes it believed it was playing a game. Sometimes it believed it was reading words on a screen.

You are the player, reading words...

Shush... Sometimes the player read lines of code on a screen. Decoded them into words; decoded words into meaning; decoded meaning into feelings, emotions, theories, ideas, and the player started to breathe faster and deeper and realised it was alive, it was alive, those thousand deaths had not been real, the player was alive

You. You. You are alive.

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the sunlight that came through the shuffling leaves of the summer trees

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the light that fell from the crisp night sky of winter, where a fleck of light in the corner of the player's eye might be a star a million times as massive as the sun, boiling its planets to plasma in order to be visible for a moment to the player, walking home at the far side of the universe, suddenly smelling food, almost at the familiar door, about to dream again

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the zeros and ones, through the electricity of the world, through the scrolling words on a screen at the end of a dream

and the universe said I love you

and the universe said you have played the game well

and the universe said everything you need is within you

and the universe said you are stronger than you know

and the universe said you are the daylight

and the universe said you are the night

and the universe said the darkness you fight is within you

and the universe said the light you seek is within you

and the universe said you are not alone

and the universe said you are not separate from every other thing

and the universe said you are the universe tasting itself, talking to itself, reading its own code

and the universe said I love you because you are love.

And the game was over and the player woke up from the dream. And the player began a new dream. And the player dreamed again, dreamed better. And the player was the universe. And the player was love.

You are the player.

Wake up.

By Julian Gough

[annimator]

Hey do you guys ever think about Minecraft’s end poem and how it connects to QSMP (it’s under the cut if ya wanna read it!)

I see the player you mean.

PLAYERNAME?

Yes. Take care. It has reached a higher level now. It can read our thoughts.

That doesn't matter. It thinks we are part of the game.

I like this player. It played well. It did not give up.

It is reading our thoughts as though they were words on a screen.

That is how it chooses to imagine many things, when it is deep in the dream of a game.

Words make a wonderful interface. Very flexible. And less terrifying than staring at the reality behind the screen.

They used to hear voices. Before players could read. Back in the days when those who did not play called the players witches, and warlocks. And players dreamed they flew through the air, on sticks powered by demons.

What did this player dream?

This player dreamed of sunlight and trees. Of fire and water. It dreamed it created. And it dreamed it destroyed. It dreamed it hunted, and was hunted. It dreamed of shelter.

Hah, the original interface. A million years old, and it still works. But what true structure did this player create, in the reality behind the screen?

It worked, with a million others, to sculpt a true world in a fold of the [scrambled], and created a [scrambled] for [scrambled], in the [scrambled].

It cannot read that thought.

No. It has not yet achieved the highest level. That, it must achieve in the long dream of life, not the short dream of a game.

Does it know that we love it? That the universe is kind?

Sometimes, through the noise of its thoughts, it hears the universe, yes.

But there are times it is sad, in the long dream. It creates worlds that have no summer, and it shivers under a black sun, and it takes its sad creation for reality.

To cure it of sorrow would destroy it. The sorrow is part of its own private task. We cannot interfere.

Sometimes when they are deep in dreams, I want to tell them, they are building true worlds in reality. Sometimes I want to tell them of their importance to the universe. Sometimes, when they have not made a true connection in a while, I want to help them to speak the word they fear.

It reads our thoughts.

Sometimes I do not care. Sometimes I wish to tell them, this world you take for truth is merely [scrambled] and [scrambled], I wish to tell them that they are [scrambled] in the [scrambled]. They see so little of reality, in their long dream.

And yet they play the game.

But it would be so easy to tell them...

Too strong for this dream. To tell them how to live is to prevent them living.

I will not tell the player how to live.

The player is growing restless.

I will tell the player a story.

But not the truth.

No. A story that contains the truth safely, in a cage of words. Not the naked truth that can burn over any distance.

Give it a body, again.

Yes. Player...

Use its name.

PLAYERNAME. Player of games.

Good.

Take a breath, now. Take another. Feel air in your lungs. Let your limbs return. Yes, move your fingers. Have a body again, under gravity, in air. Respawn in the long dream. There you are. Your body touching the universe again at every point, as though you were separate things. As though we were separate things.

Who are we? Once we were called the spirit of the mountain. Father sun, mother moon. Ancestral spirits, animal spirits. Jinn. Ghosts. The green man. Then gods, demons. Angels. Poltergeists. Aliens, extraterrestrials. Leptons, quarks. The words change. We do not change.

We are the universe. We are everything you think isn't you. You are looking at us now, through your skin and your eyes. And why does the universe touch your skin, and throw light on you? To see you, player. To know you. And to be known. I shall tell you a story.

Once upon a time, there was a player.

The player was you, PLAYERNAME.

Sometimes it thought itself human, on the thin crust of a spinning globe of molten rock. The ball of molten rock circled a ball of blazing gas that was three hundred and thirty thousand times more massive than it. They were so far apart that light took eight minutes to cross the gap. The light was information from a star, and it could burn your skin from a hundred and fifty million kilometres away.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was a miner, on the surface of a world that was flat, and infinite. The sun was a square of white. The days were short; there was much to do; and death was a temporary inconvenience.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was lost in a story.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was other things, in other places. Sometimes these dreams were disturbing. Sometimes very beautiful indeed. Sometimes the player woke from one dream into another, then woke from that into a third.

Sometimes the player dreamed it watched words on a screen.

Let's go back.

The atoms of the player were scattered in the grass, in the rivers, in the air, in the ground. A woman gathered the atoms; she drank and ate and inhaled; and the woman assembled the player, in her body.

And the player awoke, from the warm, dark world of its mother's body, into the long dream.

And the player was a new story, never told before, written in letters of DNA. And the player was a new program, never run before, generated by a sourcecode a billion years old. And the player was a new human, never alive before, made from nothing but milk and love.

You are the player. The story. The program. The human. Made from nothing but milk and love.

Let's go further back.

The seven billion billion billion atoms of the player's body were created, long before this game, in the heart of a star. So the player, too, is information from a star. And the player moves through a story, which is a forest of information planted by a man called Julian, on a flat, infinite world created by a man called Markus, that exists inside a small, private world created by the player, who inhabits a universe created by...

Shush. Sometimes the player created a small, private world that was soft and warm and simple. Sometimes hard, and cold, and complicated. Sometimes it built a model of the universe in its head; flecks of energy, moving through vast empty spaces. Sometimes it called those flecks "electrons" and "protons".

Sometimes it called them "planets" and "stars".

Sometimes it believed it was in a universe that was made of energy that was made of offs and ons; zeros and ones; lines of code. Sometimes it believed it was playing a game. Sometimes it believed it was reading words on a screen.

You are the player, reading words...

Shush... Sometimes the player read lines of code on a screen. Decoded them into words; decoded words into meaning; decoded meaning into feelings, emotions, theories, ideas, and the player started to breathe faster and deeper and realised it was alive, it was alive, those thousand deaths had not been real, the player was alive

You. You. You are alive.

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the sunlight that came through the shuffling leaves of the summer trees

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the light that fell from the crisp night sky of winter, where a fleck of light in the corner of the player's eye might be a star a million times as massive as the sun, boiling its planets to plasma in order to be visible for a moment to the player, walking home at the far side of the universe, suddenly smelling food, almost at the familiar door, about to dream again

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the zeros and ones, through the electricity of the world, through the scrolling words on a screen at the end of a dream

and the universe said I love you

and the universe said you have played the game well

and the universe said everything you need is within you

and the universe said you are stronger than you know

and the universe said you are the daylight

and the universe said you are the night

and the universe said the darkness you fight is within you

and the universe said the light you seek is within you

and the universe said you are not alone

and the universe said you are not separate from every other thing

and the universe said you are the universe tasting itself, talking to itself, reading its own code

and the universe said I love you because you are love.

And the game was over and the player woke up from the dream. And the player began a new dream. And the player dreamed again, dreamed better. And the player was the universe. And the player was love.

You are the player.

Wake up.

[bbbellamywrites]

full end poem/story under the cut <3

I see the player you mean.

[PLAYERNAME]?

Yes. Take care. It has reached a higher level now. It can read our thoughts.

That doesn't matter. It thinks we are part of the game.

I like this player. It played well. It did not give up.

It is reading our thoughts as though they were words on a screen.

That is how it chooses to imagine many things, when it is deep in the dream of a game.

Words make a wonderful interface. Very flexible. And less terrifying than staring at the reality behind the screen.

They used to hear voices. Before players could read. Back in the days when those who did not play called the players witches, and warlocks. And players dreamed they flew through the air, on sticks powered by demons.

What did this player dream?

This player dreamed of sunlight and trees. Of fire and water. It dreamed it created. And it dreamed it destroyed. It dreamed it hunted, and was hunted. It dreamed of shelter.

Hah, the original interface. A million years old, and it still works. But what true structure did this player create, in the reality behind the screen?

It worked, with a million others, to sculpt a true world in a fold of the [scrambled], and created a [scrambled] for [scrambled], in the [scrambled].

It cannot read that thought.

No. It has not yet achieved the highest level. That, it must achieve in the long dream of life, not the short dream of a game.

Does it know that we love it? That the universe is kind?

Sometimes, through the noise of its thoughts, it hears the universe, yes.

But there are times it is sad, in the long dream. It creates worlds that have no summer, and it shivers under a black sun, and it takes its sad creation for reality.

To cure it of sorrow would destroy it. The sorrow is part of its own private task. We cannot interfere.

Sometimes when they are deep in dreams, I want to tell them, they are building true worlds in reality. Sometimes I want to tell them of their importance to the universe. Sometimes, when they have not made a true connection in a while, I want to help them to speak the word they fear.

It reads our thoughts.

Sometimes I do not care. Sometimes I wish to tell them, this world you take for truth is merely [scrambled] and [scrambled], I wish to tell them that they are [scrambled] in the [scrambled]. They see so little of reality, in their long dream.

And yet they play the game.

But it would be so easy to tell them...

Too strong for this dream. To tell them how to live is to prevent them living.

I will not tell the player how to live.

The player is growing restless.

I will tell the player a story.

But not the truth.

No. A story that contains the truth safely, in a cage of words. Not the naked truth that can burn over any distance.

Give it a body, again.

Yes. Player...

Use its name.

[PLAYERNAME]. Player of games.

Good.

Take a breath, now. Take another. Feel air in your lungs. Let your limbs return. Yes, move your fingers. Have a body again, under gravity, in air. Respawn in the long dream. There you are. Your body touching the universe again at every point, as though you were separate things. As though we were separate things.

Who are we? Once we were called the spirit of the mountain. Father sun, mother moon. Ancestral spirits, animal spirits. Jinn. Ghosts. The green man. Then gods, demons. Angels. Poltergeists. Aliens, extraterrestrials. Leptons, quarks. The words change. We do not change.

We are the universe. We are everything you think isn't you. You are looking at us now, through your skin and your eyes. And why does the universe touch your skin, and throw light on you? To see you, player. To know you. And to be known. I shall tell you a story.

Once upon a time, there was a player.

The player was you, [PLAYERNAME].

Sometimes it thought itself human, on the thin crust of a spinning globe of molten rock. The ball of molten rock circled a ball of blazing gas that was three hundred and thirty thousand times more massive than it. They were so far apart that light took eight minutes to cross the gap. The light was information from a star, and it could burn your skin from a hundred and fifty million kilometres away.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was a miner, on the surface of a world that was flat, and infinite. The sun was a square of white. The days were short; there was much to do; and death was a temporary inconvenience.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was lost in a story.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was other things, in other places. Sometimes these dreams were disturbing. Sometimes very beautiful indeed. Sometimes the player woke from one dream into another, then woke from that into a third.

Sometimes the player dreamed it watched words on a screen.

Let's go back.

The atoms of the player were scattered in the grass, in the rivers, in the air, in the ground. A woman gathered the atoms; she drank and ate and inhaled; and the woman assembled the player, in her body.

And the player awoke, from the warm, dark world of its mother's body, into the long dream.

And the player was a new story, never told before, written in letters of DNA. And the player was a new program, never run before, generated by a sourcecode a billion years old. And the player was a new human, never alive before, made from nothing but milk and love.

You are the player. The story. The program. The human. Made from nothing but milk and love.

Let's go further back.

The seven billion billion billion atoms of the player's body were created, long before this game, in the heart of a star. So the player, too, is information from a star. And the player moves through a story, which is a forest of information planted by a man called Julian, on a flat, infinite world created by a man called Markus, that exists inside a small, private world created by the player, who inhabits a universe created by...

Shush. Sometimes the player created a small, private world that was soft and warm and simple. Sometimes hard, and cold, and complicated. Sometimes it built a model of the universe in its head; flecks of energy, moving through vast empty spaces. Sometimes it called those flecks "electrons" and "protons".

Sometimes it called them "planets" and "stars".

Sometimes it believed it was in a universe that was made of energy that was made of offs and ons; zeros and ones; lines of code. Sometimes it believed it was playing a game. Sometimes it believed it was reading words on a screen.

You are the player, reading words...

Shush... Sometimes the player read lines of code on a screen. Decoded them into words; decoded words into meaning; decoded meaning into feelings, emotions, theories, ideas, and the player started to breathe faster and deeper and realised it was alive, it was alive, those thousand deaths had not been real, the player was alive

You. You. You are alive.

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the sunlight that came through the shuffling leaves of the summer trees

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the light that fell from the crisp night sky of winter, where a fleck of light in the corner of the player's eye might be a star a million times as massive as the sun, boiling its planets to plasma in order to be visible for a moment to the player, walking home at the far side of the universe, suddenly smelling food, almost at the familiar door, about to dream again

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the zeros and ones, through the electricity of the world, through the scrolling words on a screen at the end of a dream

and the universe said I love you

and the universe said you have played the game well

and the universe said everything you need is within you

and the universe said you are stronger than you know

and the universe said you are the daylight

and the universe said you are the night

and the universe said the darkness you fight is within you

and the universe said the light you seek is within you

and the universe said you are not alone

and the universe said you are not separate from every other thing

and the universe said you are the universe tasting itself, talking to itself, reading its own code

and the universe said I love you because you are love.

And the game was over and the player woke up from the dream. And the player began a new dream. And the player dreamed again, dreamed better. And the player was the universe. And the player was love.

You are the player.

Wake up.

[maples-wonderland]

I see the player you mean.

PLAYERNAME?

Yes. Take care. It has reached a higher level now. It can read our thoughts.

That doesn't matter. It thinks we are part of the game.

I like this player. It played well. It did not give up.

It is reading our thoughts as though they were words on a screen.

That is how it chooses to imagine many things, when it is deep in the dream of a game.

Words make a wonderful interface. Very flexible. And less terrifying than staring at the reality behind the screen.

They used to hear voices. Before players could read. Back in the days when those who did not play called the players witches, and warlocks. And players dreamed they flew through the air, on sticks powered by demons.

What did this player dream?

This player dreamed of sunlight and trees. Of fire and water. It dreamed it created. And it dreamed it destroyed. It dreamed it hunted, and was hunted. It dreamed of shelter.

Hah, the original interface. A million years old, and it still works. But what true structure did this player create, in the reality behind the screen?

It worked, with a million others, to sculpt a true world in a fold of the [scrambled], and created a [scrambled] for [scrambled], in the [scrambled].

It cannot read that thought.

No. It has not yet achieved the highest level. That, it must achieve in the long dream of life, not the short dream of a game.

Does it know that we love it? That the universe is kind?

Sometimes, through the noise of its thoughts, it hears the universe, yes.

But there are times it is sad, in the long dream. It creates worlds that have no summer, and it shivers under a black sun, and it takes its sad creation for reality.

To cure it of sorrow would destroy it. The sorrow is part of its own private task. We cannot interfere.

Sometimes when they are deep in dreams, I want to tell them, they are building true worlds in reality. Sometimes I want to tell them of their importance to the universe. Sometimes, when they have not made a true connection in a while, I want to help them to speak the word they fear.

It reads our thoughts.

Sometimes I do not care. Sometimes I wish to tell them, this world you take for truth is merely [scrambled] and [scrambled], I wish to tell them that they are [scrambled] in the [scrambled]. They see so little of reality, in their long dream.

And yet they play the game.

But it would be so easy to tell them...

Too strong for this dream. To tell them how to live is to prevent them living.

I will not tell the player how to live.

The player is growing restless.

I will tell the player a story.

But not the truth.

No. A story that contains the truth safely, in a cage of words.

Not the naked truth that can burn over any distance.

Give it a body, again.

Yes. Player...

Use its name.

PLAYERNAME. Player of games.

Good.

Take a breath, now. Take another. Feel air in your lungs. Let your limbs return. Yes, move your fingers.

Have a body again, under gravity, in air. Respawn in the long dream. There you are. Your body touching the universe again at every point, as though you were separate things. As though we were separate things.

Who are we? Once we were called the spirit of the mountain. Father sun, mother moon. Ancestral spirits, animal spirits. Jinn. Ghosts. The green man. Then gods, demons. Angels. Poltergeists. Aliens, extraterrestrials. Leptons, quarks. The words change. We do not change.

We are the universe. We are everything you think isn't you. You are looking at us now, through your skin and your eyes. And why does the universe touch your skin, and throw light on you? To see you, player. To know you. And to be known. I shall tell you a story.

Once upon a time, there was a player.

The player was you, PLAYERNAME.

Sometimes it thought itself human, on the thin crust of a spinning globe of molten rock. The ball of molten rock circled a ball of blazing gas that was three hundred and thirty thousand times more massive than it.

They were so far apart that light took eight minutes to cross the gap. The light was information from a star, and it could burn your skin from a hundred and fifty million kilometres away.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was a miner, on the surface of a world that was flat, and infinite. The sun was a square of white. The days were short; there was much to do; and death was a temporary inconvenience.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was lost in a story.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was other things, in other places. Sometimes these dreams were disturbing. Sometimes very beautiful indeed. Sometimes the player woke from one dream into another, then woke from that into a third.

Sometimes the player dreamed it watched words on a screen.

Let's go back.

The atoms of the player were scattered in the grass, in the rivers, in the air, in the ground. A woman gathered the atoms; she drank and ate and inhaled; and the woman assembled the player, in her body.

And the player awoke, from the warm, dark world of its mother's body, into the long dream.

And the player was a new story, never told before, written in letters of DNA. And the player was a new program, never run before, generated by a sourcecode a billion years old. And the player was a new human, never alive before, made from nothing but milk and love.

You are the player. The story. The program. The human. Made from nothing but milk and love.Let's go further back.

The seven billion billion billion atoms of the player's body were created, long before this game, in the heart of a star. So the player, too, is information from a star. And the player moves through a story, which is a forest of information planted by a man called Julian, on a flat, infinite world created by a man called Markus, that exists inside a small, private world created by the player, who inhabits a universe created by...

Shush. Sometimes the player created a small, private world that was soft and warm and simple. Sometimes hard, and cold, and complicated. Sometimes it built a model of the universe in its head; flecks of energy, moving through vast empty spaces. Sometimes it called those flecks "electrons" and "protons".

Sometimes it called them "planets" and "stars".

Sometimes it believed it was in a universe that was made of energy that was made of offs and ons; zeros and ones; lines of code. Sometimes it believed it was playing a game. Sometimes it believed it was reading words on a screen.

You are the player, reading words...

Shush... Sometimes the player read lines of code on a screen. Decoded them into words; decoded words into meaning; decoded meaning into feelings, emotions, theories, ideas, and the player started to breathe faster and deeper and realised it was alive, it was alive, those thousand deaths had not been real, the player was alive

You. You. You are alive.

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the sunlight that came through the shuffling leaves of the summer trees

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the light that fell from the crisp night sky of winter, where a fleck of light in the corner of the player's eye might be a star a million times as massive as the sun, boiling its planets to plasma in order to be visible for a moment to the player, walking home at the far side of the universe, suddenly smelling food, almost at the familiar door, about to dream again

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the zeros and ones, through the electricity of the world, through the scrolling words on a screen at the end of a dream

and the universe said I love you

and the universe said you have played the game well

and the universe said everything you need is within you

and the universe said you are stronger than you know

and the universe said you are the daylight

and the universe said you are the night

and the universe said the darkness you fight is within you

and the universe said the light you seek is within you

and the universe said you are not alone

and the universe said you are not separate from every other thing

and the universe said you are the universe tasting itself, talking to itself, reading its own code

and the universe said I love you because you are love.

And the game was over and the player woke up from the dream. And the player began a new dream. And the player dreamed again, dreamed better. And the player was the universe. And the player was love.

You are the player.

Wake up.

MAXWELL WHAT THE BALLS 💔💔💔