#and create a page for the different verses

[noneorother]

I bought Aziraphale's Bible so you don't have to.

Am I insane? Yes. Was it worth it? Maybe. In most* of both season 1 and season 2 of GO, there's a very specific Bible on a bookstand next to Aziraphale's desk. It's a vintage illustrated plate book by Harold Copping, known as the Harold Copping Bible, published by the religious tract society in London in 1910. It features some of the most well known Old Testament stories, summarized and annotated by the Bishop of Durham at the time, and illustrated by Copping, who was freshly returned from a sojourn in the middle east. Ironically, It was meant as a lay-person's version of a comic book, short, exciting by use of exotic illustrations, and easy to read.

But my (expensive) gain is now your gain! As I've collected here every visible page in both seasons for your reading and viewing pleasure.

Season 1: All episodes Adam & Eve Genesis iii (1:3) / HCB page 10

Season 2: Episode 1 Joseph known to his brethren Genesis xlv (1:45) / HCB Page 28

S2E1 14:21, S2E1 17:41, S2E1 39:45

Season 2: Episode 2 Jacob's vow Genesis xxviii (1:28) / HCB Page 22

S2E2 5:49

Season 2: Episode 2 Joseph known to his brethren Genesis xlv (1:45) / HCB Page 28

S2E2 13:38 (see S2E1 above)

Season 2: Episode 2 The Brazen Serpent Numbers xxi (4:21) / HCB page 36

S2E2 16:12, 43:40

Season 2: Episode 2* Bible on the desk, Magazine on the stand Annuel L'art Pour Tous, Cover (1861-1880 most likely)

S2E2 22:10

The French L'art pour tous industrial design periodical will have to be a story for another post. For now, just enjoy this 1880 edition copperplate of cherubs discovering a microscope...

Season 2: Episode 2 Imaginary page from HCB, Job KJV Job (18:1) / HCB N/A

S2E2 22:29, S2E2 40:05 Obviously, the plate illustrations and text look different here than in the real bible, because they were created for the show. But there are a few more particularities here. For one, this layout with the thin grid around the text, as well as the paragraph symbol next to the first title, indicate that this would have been a printer's proof copy, not a finished book. It shows you the layout grid and can be annotated for changes. Second, there seems to be a war going on between fonts. Where the "chapter" of Job begins, we get a font and a style similar to the original bible, which gets rudely interrupted by a dropped capital (from the real book) and a Gothic-style font/verse numbers like in the original King James version of the printed Bible.

Season 2: Episode 3 The Brazen Serpent NUMBERS xxi (4:21) / HCB page 36

S2E3 1:18 (see episode 2)

Season 2: Episode 5 By the Rivers of Babylon Pslam cxxxvii (19:137) / HCB page 52

S2E5 21:20

Season 2: Episode 6 Bible missing, L'art pour Tous on the stand Annuel L'art Pour Tous, Cover (1861-1880 most likely)

S2E6 10:21, 17:21, 18:15, 34:28 (see episode 2)

Season 2: Episode 6 Closed HCB, L'art pour Tous on the stand behind HCB page 0

S2E6 37:58, 44:20, 48:08

#good omens 2 #art director talks good omens #good omens meta #go season 2 #go meta #good omens season 2 #good omens season two #good omens #go2 #good omens prime #aziraphale #crowley and aziraphale

[angelicaaster1]

Starter for @arcanescion

The sudden visit of the Enforcers to the Kiramman residence to speak with Douglas and Aurelia Aster took everyone by surprise. The couple found themselves subjected to a short interrogation concerning the whereabouts of their only daughter, Angelica. According to the officer, the maid stood accused of theft, having allegedly stolen jewelry from Mrs. Aston, and had even assaulted Mr. Aston with an ashtray when he confronted her, making a hasty escape from the mansion afterward.

Angelica had been working for the Astons for nearly a decade by that time, and for the most part, Mr. and Mrs. Aster rarely received news about their daughter. They hadn't paid it much attention, assuming she was overwhelmed with her workload.

Learning from an Enforcer that their beloved daughter was accused of such crimes left them both stunned. Aurelia needed time to digest the shocking news, while Douglas didn't wait another second to request permission to leave in the middle of his shift. The Asters had been loyal servants of the Kiramman family for many decades, and never before had any of them asked to leave before completing their shifts. Thanks to the good reputation and strong relationship between the two families, Douglas's request had been granted, and he had departed from the Kiramman residence in a hast.

As he stood outside Caitlyn's office, still wearing his uniform, the distress on Douglas's weathered face was evident. His over fifty years of life were etched even deeper by the worry lines that marred his forehead.

"Miss Kiramman, are you available?" he inquired, unnable to conceal his nervous state as he knocked on her door, anxiously awaiting a response and the young Kiramman's permission to walk in.

#arcane verse #arcanescion #I prob should think on better tags #and create a page for the different verses

[scientistredacted]

❝IT APPEARS YOU HAVE REACHED❞ ❝AN END.❞

#|❝ SNOWFLAKES ACROSS A DARK SKY ❞| ~ Aesthetic #|❝ SOMEONE HAS TO BE THE VILLAIN ❞ | ~ Headcanons #| ❝ IT'S FOR THE GOOD OF ALL MONSTERKIND ❞ | ~ Musings #| ❝ PEER REVIEW ❞ | ~ Promo #| ❝ ON THE VERGE OF CONNECTION ❞ | ~ Main Verse #| ❝ SELFISH SENTIMENTALITY ❞ | ~ Mercy Verse #| ❝ REDACTED ❞ | ~ Void Verse #| ❝ FIRST; DO NO HARM ❞ | ~ Wartime Verse #| ❝ PICKING UP THE PIECES ❞ | ~ Early Underground Verse #| ❝ UNBRIDLED OPTIMISM ❞ | ~ Prewar Verse #|❝ DETERMINED SOUL ❞| ~ Human Verse #| ❝ I LOOK FORWARD TO CREATING A NEW FUTURE WITH YOU ❞ | ~ Deltarune Verse #| ❝ IT WAS AS IF IT WAS NEVER THERE AT ALL. ❞ | ~ Postvoid Verse #this is a tag dump if you can't tell #anyway new design; slightly different Icon frame (but only slightly) and new formating! #I'll only be doing the Wingdings text if he's not signing now #bold text is in Wingdings on his actual blog page though! #|❝ CURIOSITY FUELS SCIENCE ❞| ~ Inbox Memes

[unbidden-yidden]

To follow up on my Hosanna poll, I think before things go any further, it'd be good to actually explain and define it. I was initially going to wait until the end of the poll, but it seems that google is giving people a lot of bad and/or conflicting answers and I'd rather people walk away with the correct information.

So! Hosanna is an anglicized version of the Hebrew words "hosha na" [הושע נא or as a contraction הושענא]. Hosha na is a little enigmatic and hard to translate, but the simplest translation is probably "save us, please." It's traditionally used as an exclamation to G-d to rescue us, but it also has shades of being a triumphant shout (the implication being confidence that G-d will save us.)

Jews say "hoshanot" (the plural of hosha na) as part of our traditional Sukkot liturgy, and is something we do still today.

For us, the multi-faceted meaning of the root word allows us to have multiple layers of meaning. During Sukkot, we start praying for rain in its proper season and amounts, and we shake the lulav and etrog as part of these processions and liturgy. On Hoshana Rabba [the "great hoshana"], the last day of Sukkot, we process around the bimah (front lectern) seven times as a completion of our season of repentance and our starting of the new year with abundant blessings.

My siddur (prayer book) Lev Shalem has this as an explanation and translation:

[Image ID is of the Lev Shalem siddur, pages 382 & 383 - I tried hard to find a pdf of this that would be readable using a screen reader, but the versions I'm finding cut off at pg. 376 at the latest. If anyone has bandwidth to type this up, I would greatly appreciate it]

For the curious, here is a recording of the Hoshanot liturgy and procession:

Christians mostly know the word from the gospels and hymns.

Here is what Wikipedia says about its use in Christianity:

Historical meaning

Since those welcoming Jesus were Jewish, as of course Jesus himself was, some would interpret the cry of "Hosanna" on the entry of Jesus in its proper meaning, as a cry by the people for salvation and rescue.

Christian reinterpretation

"Hosanna" many interpret as a shout of praise or adoration made in recognition of the messiahship of Jesus on his entry into Jerusalem

It is applied in numerous verses of the New Testament, including "Hosanna! blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lᴏʀᴅ!" (Matthew 21:9,15; Mark 11:9–10; John 12:13), which forms part of the Sanctus prayer; "hosanna in the highest" (Mark 11.10); and "hosanna to the Son of David" (Matt 21:9). These quotations, however, are of words in the Jewish Psalm 118. Although not used in the book of Luke, the testimony of Jesus' entry into Jerusalem is recorded in Luke 19.

In church music

The "Hosanna Anthem", based on the phrase Hosanna, is a traditional Moravian Church anthem written by Bishop Christian Gregor of Herrnhut sung on Palm Sunday and the first Sunday of Advent. It is antiphonal, i.e. a call-and-response song; traditionally, it is sung between the children and adult congregation, though it is not unheard of for it to be done in other ways, such as between choir and congregation, or played between trombone choirs.

The bottom line:

Jews and Christians have different connections, associations, and meanings attached to this word as expressions of our different theologies and texts. The word is derived from a Hebrew word and was created by Jews and is still used by us today. (Like literally today - we are currently in the middle of the Sukkot festival.) Christians changed the meaning to fit within their own context, and pronunciation of the word evolved with linguistic drift over time. In the same way that there's not a reason to pitch a fit over saying Jesus rather than Yeshua, there's no compelling reason to change hosanna back to hosha na; if anything, the distinction helps make it clear that it's effectively a different word and concept from ours.

On the other hand, I do think Christians ought to know the original meaning of the word if they're going to use it. To only ever know their version when it was derived from ours is yet another small way of playing into supercessionism by erasing and replacing the Jewish context of things that were originated in Judaism that Christians have embedded in Christianity. While the Christians of today cannot unwind the supercessionism of Christian history, they *can* choose to understand their present Christianity in ways that do not play into supercessionism and that respect the Jewish community of today.

I hope this was helpful and gives folks a new perspective on an obscure Hebrew word!

#jumblr #christian #every hour is theology hour around here apparently

[whumpbby]

Thinking that because it seems that the Demonic Cultivation was mostly something that Jiang Cheng took care of - either as a way to unload his grief or as taking responsibility of his shixiong's mess - it's possible that the Jiang disciples were the ones that were the best versed in dealing with DC.

Now I am headcanoning that - because JC seems like a man that has shit in hand and runs a tight ship - there's a group within the Yunmeng Jiang trained and experienced specifically to deal with Demonic Cultivation specifically. Like their Spec Ops. They are prepared to come in fast and hot, deal with the issue asap and start the clean-up - armed with talismans made to deflect DC, tame the corpses and help send them on.

So, like, one day WWX hears that there's some Demonic Cultivator causing problems in the area he's hunting with the Lan juniors and goes to deal with it. It still pisses him off that his only lasting legacy is not about his genius or his heroics (or even his good looks), but it's this thing he invented out of horrific desperate need and that's now used to cause chaos and hurt people. So, he feels it's his duty to go there and talk some sense into the person in question.

Except, as soon as he arrives at the scene and ascertains that yeah, the issue is serious and maybe it's better for him to send the disciples back home and call in reinforcements (Lan Zhan), because he can take the DC down, but the clean-up will be immense - when suddenly a group of cultivators land in front of them with a swish of purple robes and gets to work.

The battle is almost sad. In no time at all the fierce corpses are tamed, the cultivator thrown down and bound with talismans, and the cultivators are dispersing across the area to set up burials for the corpses and arrays meant to send the ghosts onwards.

It's all precise and quick, sure steps and short commands. A well-oiled machine with soldier-discipline cleaning the area of resentment. So unlike the usual exuberance and free-style of the Jiang.

Wei Wuxian is kinda stumped. How are these people, and why are they getting in his way? He didn't even manage to get any fun! You, baby Lan disciple, explain!

"They're the Red Brigade", the disciple explains in a hushed voice. "Jiang-zonghzu's personal guard. They hunt Deminic Cultivators."

Red? Ah, their uniforms are adorned with a red ribbon on the shoulder. How sentimental of Jiang Cheng. His shidi really missed him! (or wanted him dead, there's also that option). But no time to contemplate that, because these guys are super efficient and if WWX wants to do any investigation of his own (translate: being his nosy self) he has to haul ass before they clean up everything!

So, he goes to the leader of the pack with an intention of comparing notes! The guy is respectful, but so cold! Eh, is he even a Jiang? So much like A-Cheng! Well, he knows how to deal with people like that - everyone will fold when bothered for long enough!

So, he keeps following the leader and talking bullshit, as his brain takes notes on everything he can see around. The talismans they use, the arrays, the spells - that's all pretty high level and super interesting. Huh, even their clothes are embroidered with talismans (a page out of the Lan book, maybe? Sneaky, Jiang Cheng, sneaky!) and their they use ghost flags...

But something is strange. He can see traces of his own work here and there - and he's used to seeing is tools ironically used across the cultivation world, but these are... kind of not? There are traces of his work, but the sigils are not his, the flags are not his, the talismans are not his. Like someone engineered his work backwards and created something that was similar, but entirely different.

As if someone wanted or needed tools to deal with Wei Wuxian's creations specifically, without the risk of being used against them in the heat of battle. One of the cultivators has a qinqin strapped across her back - the strings are made from metal, so it's not for musical cultivation (huh, so that's how Jiang Cheng came up with the idea of disrupting Su She's music in the Guanyin Temple, it wasn't coincidence.). They came in prepared to counter anything a Demonic Cultivator would throw at them.

Hell, he can admit that going through them on his own wouldn't be easy (because he was always helplessly optimistic about his own skills)...

Oh, Jiang Cheng did his homework.

"Wei-gongzi, can I help you with anything? Shouldn't you be taking the Lan juniors home?"

Uh-oh, he was getting on someone's nerves. Better retreat for now.

But he wasn't about to drop the matter.

The Jiang Sect had a SPECIAL OPS! how was he supposed to leave that be?

He was invested, he wanted to discuss! He needed to compare notes!

#headcanon #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #mdzs #yunmeng jiang spe cops #XD

[theresattrpgforthat]

i want to destroy the god king and begin an anarchist uprising. culminating in participating in the aftermath building a new world

You and me both buddy. Let’s get started.

THEME: Destroy God

Dethrone Skeleton God, by emmy verse.

DETHRONE SKELETON GOD. THAT IS ALL YOU HAVE TO DO.

In this gmless role playing game you will set out on a journey to find and dethrone the aforementioned god. You will need some d6s, a d12, and some writing materials.

This game pulls a lot of inspiration from some pretty stellar games, including No Stone Unturned, EXTRACAUSAL, Trophy, and Blades in the Dark. You will play racing against three Fallout Tracks, which track the collapse of the material world, the immaterial world, and the Skeleton God’s Power. When all tracks are full, the game is over, and you narrate how the world ends.

If nobody in your group wants the burden/responsibility of running a game, this game is an excellent option as it is both GM-less and lightweight. It’s only 16 pages long and covers creating location elements and exploring them as a group. Everything is collaborative, so if you’re interested in games that let you come up with a story together as you go, you might want to check out this game.

Dead Gods, by Trollish Delver Games.

After the Cataclysm of Heaven it all changed. Murdered gods fell from the sky, sundering the land and casting their sacred relics about the world. From the woodwork crawl Warcults, scavengers of god-relics to further their own twisted gains. The Eternal seek power over death itself. The Order of the Stars seek relics to unlock god-like omniscience. The Pale Druids imbibe relics to acquire power over nature itself. The Black Maw will create a new, hungrier god under their control. 

Pick up a lovingly-designed weird cult and pit them against your friend in a desperate effort to grab a sacred god-relic in this miniatures skirmish game. Each player will control a number of different kinds of war cult members, and there are 4 war cults to embody in the upcoming skirmish. Great for PvP and lovers of combat, but if you want narrative you’ll want to pick up something else or mostly RP it out. You can also check out Unholy Scavengers, for more relics, more scenarios, more models - more more more!

Karanduun - Make God Bleed, by makapatag.(@makapatag)

Karanduun is a modern Filipino Epic RPG about worthless heroes dismantling God, whatever cycle of oppression that must be.  Inspired by modern Filipino folklore and culture. You play as young heroes who must make their legend known and become a legendary Karanduun by making God (whichever oppressive system and tyrant that is) bleed.

Lovers of Kill Six Billion Demons will probably get a big kick out of this game. The god Batala is already dead, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t room for some rebellion of your own. There are demons, corrupt angels, and other Kings of the Earth to defeat, in a post-American world inspired by the Philippines. If you’re looking for some narrative play, this game has got you covered, with rules inspired by Exalted 1e and PbtA. You can check out the physical version of this game on SoulMuppet’s website!

Skorne, by Dreaming Dragonslayer.

You are renegades, part of mankind’s insurrection against SKORNE who is devil prince, commander of demon rulers and their armies, and the darkness that reigns. Overthrow the evil Tyrants. Free chained captives. Fight to the last man.

Part of the NSR movement, Skorne is inspired by media such as Berserk, MORK BORG, and games like Dark Souls and Elden Ring. The game itself is only 4 pages long, with a really interesting system for character creation. You roll for your abilities and then use their values to determine your starting kit. The language in the game is also great for putting you into the fiction, such as the instructions found for character name choice:

“In the beginning, give thy renegade a name, though it will not save them.”

You want gritty and dire circumstances? You want to kill demon princes? You wanna play a game with random tyrant generation? This is for you.

Extreme Meatpunks Forever, by Sinister Beard Games.

"In the beginning, there was meat. A decaying chunk of flesh from a dying god, hurtling through the void of space, thousands of miles wide. A million eyes, a billion hands grasping for purchase against nothingness itself.  This is where we live.”

EXTREME MEATPUNKS FOREVER is a tabletop roleplaying game where you’ll play as a gang of queer antifascists in a strange place called Meatworld. Spinning through space on the screaming corpse of a dead god under the glow of an absent sun, the people of Meatworld harvest its flesh to make their technology.

Embody your queer rage and kill fascists in meat-mechs in Extreme Meatpunks Forever. A PbtA game, this option is narrative-heavy and allows you to pick from some pretty metal weapons, including (but not limited to) Excellent Seasoning, A Bit Stick What Has Shrapnel In It, and Deathfucker Cannon. In your downtime, you can kiss your friends and work to heal and deal with your trauma. If you want a game that feels metal and also presents you with extremely punchable enemies, this is your game!

Other Recommendations

If you want some more recommendations you can also check out the Attack and Dethrone God Jam on itch.io, or my Revolution recommendation post.

If you’re interested in what happens after you end the world, then I recommend my Post-Apocalyptic Community Building recommendations!

#tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #dnd #game recommendations #asks #revolution #rebellion #kill six billion demons

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

Mosaic

kaeya/gn!reader

genre: hurt/comfort, teensy angst, fluff

warning(s)!!!: hydro-vision/polearm-user reader (bc i said so), kaeya word vomits all over the place, kaeya also becomes self-aware of feelings and Dislikes that, kaeya also makes some poor choices in leu of those feelings, all is well in the end tho! he learns (and cries) (tayls is pushing the pathetic crybaby kaeya agenda and cannot be stopped)

w.count: 8.7k

synopsis: kaeya is none the wiser to the people around him and what it is they think about him- he didn't get his title of 'top candidate for grandson in law' for nothing. however, he never thought he'd get so swept up in his own feelings that when he does, he decides he has to put a stop to them no matter the cost. but can he really follow through with that?

a/n: i love when tumblr nerfs my banner quality but it's whatever. have some kaeya nonsense (fr take this away from me)

“A mosaic.” 

That was your answer to a question Paimon and the Traveler asks while you were meandering around the Favonius Library looking for a book you needed for some personal research. They had run into you there and a conversation about what some citizens of the City of Freedom embody had sprung up somehow. For example, Paimon was very set on saying that Master Diluc was a rock- set in his ways and tough to budge- and so on from there.  The ideas and objects tossed around were anywhere between insightful and downright silly. 

So, it was inevitable that eventually the trio would cycle around to the Knights. Jean was dubbed a Dandelion according to the Traveler and Lisa was crowned as an elegant bookmark that was so sharp it would cause terrible papercuts. Of course, Lisa’s object was picked ever so gracefully by Paimon even if it didn’t make much sense she was set on her answer, and nothing would change her mind. Then, when the personification of one Kaeya Alberich came around, admittingly the two Outlanders were stumped.  

Kaeya would always peruse around with such an air of mystery. Keeping important aspects of himself tucked so far away that very few people knew of his secrets- and they were tight lipped for their own reasons.  His smooth tongue aided him greatly whenever someone would ask about himself personally- spinning tales and weaving verses that got him out of any sort of personal interrogation. 

The trio knew if they asked Diluc, he’d give a short and possibly crude answer.  Jean would probably give him some illusion of not being sorted into such games and Lisa would just think you three were adorable and not give her two cents at all. You, however, thought on it for a bit longer and finally had an answer. 

“A mosaic?” Paimon mimicked, making sure her voice was kept down in the sanctuary of books. “Like the artwork?” 

“He is good looking,” Traveler pitched and it was true. Even people with aged or poor working eyes could see Kaeya was far from being an ugly man. 

“I don't see how him being a little ‘good looking’ is deserving of the title of being a piece art!” You chuckle at Paimon’s small fit of confusion. 

“Well, ignoring his looks, a mosaic is a piece of work that is made of small pieces right? It isn’t whole until it’s all put together. Just like a puzzle.” 

“So, he’s a glorified puzzle?” 

“That isn’t what I meant,” you shake your head in a small chuckle. You take a small trip to another corner of the library and run your fingers along the spines of different books before you grab one and easily slide it out of its spot on the shelf.

It’s a book on different types of art. Flipping the pages you find a page with a drawn on copy of a mosaic from another country. You lay it down on a nearby table and tap the drawing with your fingertip. 

“What I meant was the process of becoming a mosaic- how it’s created.” you trace the empty spaces of white on the page where the piece of the drawn on piece were supposed to connect to create a bigger piece. “Various pieces of work all put together to make one big picture. A series of events leading to a grand conclusion of hardwork and patience. Maybe it took a lot of time and work. Sometimes creating such a piece was so frustrating at times you wanted to give up, or maybe sometimes nothing looked right. But, by the end of it all- it couldn’t be anything but a wonderful representation of all those struggles.” 

Paimon floated in awe at your explanation and the Travelers playfully placed their hands on their hips as they looked at you. 

“You sure think highly of Kaeya, don’t you?” 

“It’s that noticeable, huh?” You chuckle a tad embarrassed. Your long-standing puppy-crush on Kaeya you’ve had since you met him wasn’t always the best hidden secret. In fact, you were almost positive that the Cavalry Captain himself knew you had a thing for him, but you were happy he never cornered you about it. 

“You’re a love-struck citizen alright,” Paimon rushed to the Traveler’s side in making slight jests at you. You shut the book you had used to try and explain your choice of object and rubbed the back of your neck as you ignore the warmth in your face. 

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” You turn on your heel and walk back to the shelf to replace the book. Paimon had cupped a small hand around her chin before she was floating over to your side and asking you another question. 

“So, if Kaeya is a mosaic, then who’s his artist?” You look at her and blink a few times, processing what she was asking. You didn’t expect a question like that.  You cup your own chin in thought and after a moment, you laugh at being caught off guard.  

“I hadn’t thought of that.  I guess maybe Mondstadt itself? It is where all his friends and family are after all. Oh, and his job of course.” 

“That makes sense,” Paimon muses, seemingly satisfied with your answer. The conversation had moved from the shelves to the open space of the library and soon out the doors. As the three of you left, the topic of objects to people shifted to one of getting some food into Paimon’s ever empty stomach. 

The book you had previously replaced back on the shelf was easily slid back out by a hand adorning open finger gloves. Taking a relaxed seat at a nearby table, he flipped to the very page you had been on before and looked at the image himself with a small huff that twisted into a quirk of his lips. 

“How interesting,” he muses before reading the whole installment about that specific piece of art. After all, how could he not? 

The next morning was quick to roll around. After a hearty meal at the Good Hunter and pleasant good nights exchanged with the Traveler and Paimon, you were more than ready to head back home to rest. After a swift debrief on the commissions set aside for you today, you move out of the way and off to the side so you could flip through the four pages of individual commission information. 

A typical site clearing of hilicurls, a balloon transport, and two other sites said to be infested with abyss mages and mitacurls. Taking a deep breath and letting it out in the form of a heavy sigh, you roll your neck and shoulders. It looked to be a very physical day, considering the commissions alone were already enough, they were hardly close in range to each other.  

“My, what does this sunny morning lack that is making your shoulder’s slack so much,” the familiar voice of the ever lingering person on your mind spoke. Lowering your commissions and offering him a greeting smile, you watch as Kaeya marches his way down the stone steps of Mondstadt to you. 

“The weather has nothing to do with it, I'll have you know.” When he finally gets to your sides, he silently offers his hand out for your daily commission sheets. You hand them over and resume your small effort of stretching. His eyes quickly scan sheet after sheet before he’s clicking his teeth and shaking his head.  

“Having your run all the way to Stormbearer, to Windrise, down to Springvale and then back up to Wolvendom is just cruel.” The way his voice has that familiar lithe to it, you knew he only half meant what he said. 

“Maybe I’ll get lucky and run into the Traveler who can do me a favor by hitching me a ride on a Waypoint.” You quickly take your commissions back and fold them down twice before storing them away in your pack. Watching the sun’s orange morning hue fade into its daylight yellow was tell enough that you had to get moving or else you’d be rushing to get your work done. Kaeya walked you to the city gate and even across the bridge before you were ready to set off.  

This is practically routine. You weren’t sure when it started, but at some point, Kaeya had started meeting you at the Adventurer’s Guild after receiving your daily commissions and would insist on escorting you out of the city. He claimed it was on the way of his morning walk to stretch his legs, but you weren’t sure how much you believed him. You allowed him to do it anyway since it always set up a good start to your day. 

Getting a small amount of Kaeya’s time was something you would relish since you never wanted to impede on his busy schedule with the Knights. It was the small selfish part of you that wanted to capitalize on this so-called ‘alone’ time that lasted only a small piece of the day. 

“Be careful,” Kaeya always tell you and you always nod back to him a simple ‘I will’ before he would watch you disappear down the worn, dirt paths. Your first destination would be Stormbearer Mountain it appears. 

Most of Kaeya’s morning consisted of going over documents shoved on him courtesy of his position as one of the ten Captains within the knight’s ranks.  With sighs echoing in his private workspace every few minutes and multiple tempting ideas of sneaking out without even processing the paperwork, he finally finished and approved the last document before placing it in a file on his desk that Jean would surely come and snag from him later. 

Leaning back in his chair that would soon need the cushions replaced, he craned his neck to gaze out the tall window in his office.  The sun was much higher in the sky than it was when he had arrived earlier that morning.  His thoughts easily drifted to you and a frown found its way onto his lips. 

“Are you doing alright?” Kaeya delicately asked to the air of solitude around him.  You were more than capable to handle yourself.  In truth, if you weren’t already associated with the Guild and kept so busy by them, Jean probably would’ve scouted you for the Knights instead.  ‘Your skills are impressive, and the others could learn a lot from you’, that’s probably what Jean’s pitch would be. All true of course, sometimes the job of trying to train the lower ranking knights was more of a chore than a duty, once Kaeya would often get stuck with.

He'd be more than happy to spar with you instead any day.  

Steering his gaze away from the window and moving it towards the ceiling, he traced the wooden beams above him with his single visible eye. He sighed again- this time not because of his now finished paperwork. 

“Surely, they’d be in Windrise by now… right?” His fingers drummed against the arm of his chair before he was bringing his chin back down to lock onto his office door.  His paperwork was done, so maybe…

Two knocks rapped against the thick door and Kaeya’s posture straightened out of habit. A muffled ‘Captain?’ heard behind it.  He let his head sink as a small, defeated breath left his open mouth before correcting himself again. 

“You can come in,” he answered.  Guess his plans to sneak away were once again foiled. 

By the time Kaeya made it out of HQ it was already late into the afternoon.  Stretching after stepping foot out of the large entrance, he stepped down the short set of stone steps before making his way towards the front of the city.  You must be back now, or close to the city at the very least.  It had been almost the whole day, if you weren’t back yet he’d simply go on an unprompted adventure to ‘bump into you’. Luckily, there you were; standing in front of the Guild and talking to Katheryne once again. Although, the look of you was less than encouraging. 

While you yourself seemed more or less fine, just from the distance between the top set of steps by Good Hunter to you at the Adventurer's Guild Reception, he could tell your commissions had worn you out today. It was no wonder considering the distance between them. Your clothes had clearly been fixed prior to you reentering the city since the dirt and stains on them were a clear indicator that you had your fair share of roughing up. 

Kaeya can, and did mostly, dismiss this all, however.  It was the serious look on Katheryne’s face and the way yours didn't show relief after a hard day's work like it normally would be. He started making his way towards you and started catching bits of the conversion you both were having. 

“I deeply apologize, y/n, but it’s an Emergency Commission we just received.” The way Katheryne’s voice was coated in tension made Kaeya’s pace harden. When he had arrived at your side, his hand came up to rest on your back without his notice as he looked at the way you held your head in your hand like you were preventing an oncoming headache. 

“What’s the problem?” Kaeya made it a point to look at you- directing the question at you and not Katheryne. Your hand dropped and you sighed with a shake of your head before looking at him. 

“It’s nothing, just a last-minute Commission.”

“What? You just got back from your commissions, didn’t you?” 

“It’s an Emergency. I can’t just brush it off.” 

“Make someone else take it then.” 

“No one else is available.” 

“y/n.” 

“Kaeya.” 

The small verbal battle you both engaged in was empty and Kaeya knew he was playing a losing game. He let out a sigh before he finally turned to look at Katheryne who must have all the patience in the world for standing by and letting you both bicker until she was needed for something. 

“What is the commission exactly?” 

“Apparently, a Ruin Guard has been spotted near Springvale after a passing Adventurer accidentally triggered its detection sensors. The nearby residents are frightened it could march into someone’s territory and wreak havoc there.” 

Kaeya pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand- the other still mindlessly resting on your back- as he sighed.  This is indeed something that couldn’t be pushed off for someone else to take. When it comes to those old machines, who knows what could happen if they aren’t swiftly deactivated. The Captain was at an impasse; letting you go after already being exhausted from running around all day or tying you to one of the Guild’s posts and keeping you there until someone else passed by that Katheryne could snag instead. 

“Fine,” Kaeya relented.  His hand finally dropped from your back and crossed with his other arm over his chest. “I shall accompany you then.” He saw you open your mouth- probably to protest- but he didn’t let you. “Ah-ah,” he tutted at you, “no arguments. Let’s get moving.” He uncrosses his arms to grab your shoulders, spin you around and lightly push you to get your legs moving. 

Luckily, Kaeya’s vision was extra compatible with your own. While your fight styles were different, the fact you had a hydro vision was very much a blessing. It was quiet easy work taking down a Ruin Guard that had been drenched in water then subsequently frozen. After picking up a few dropped items from the timeless machine, Kaeya had stood up and placed his hands on his hips as if proud of himself. 

“Aren’t you happy I decided to tag along now? We made quick work of that Ruin Guard.” 

You can only roll your eyes at the smoothtalker.  Still, you quietly laugh at his antics all the same. Finally calling it a day in the middle of the field you had previously battled in with him, you lay down on the grass.  You were already covered in sweat, dirt and other stains from your earlier commissions, so getting a little more on your clothes wasn’t a concern. You shut your eyes and took in the breeze you silently thanked Lord Barbatos for as you took in a deep breath, letting yourself decompress. 

Kaeya stood over you, moving so his boots were on either side of your head and he was looking down at your relaxing face.  With your eyes closed, you didn’t get to see the smile that was only ever present when you weren’t looking.  The moment your eyes would open, you would only see his normal everyday grin. And open your eye did and oh how lovely they were. The evening glow did wonders for their color. 

Evening. Yes, it is getting rather late now. 

“Are you ready to head back now?” He asked and you nod. Sitting up, Kaeya offers to carry you back to the city on his back- which you decline. That didn’t stop the fact that you reentered Mondstadt securely resting on Kaeya’s back as he held you up with a slight bend to his posture and firm grip on your legs. 

This routine would continue for as long as Kaeya’s luck would allow.  He’d be the first to see you in the mornings before being the one to walk you out of the city and if he was lucky, he’d be the first to greet you back (not including Katheryn). 

If Kaeya was lucky he would greet you back into the city and spend more time at your side.  Reporting in with you to the Guild. Running a few errands like stopping by to purchase things from Blanche or getting your polearm enhanced or repaired at the smith. 

If Kaeya was lucky, he would persuade you into getting dinner with him or dropping by the Cat’s Tail for some casual TCG matches when he was off duty. 

If Kaeya was lucky, the conversation between you both would be flowing well enough that even if there was nothing left to do, he’d be privileged enough to walk you home or come inside to continue occupying your time until you fall asleep or push him out the door saying that he had to get up for work in the morning. 

Today was not Kaeya’s lucky day.  When he got up this morning, his routine to finding you was practically ingrained in his muscles and when he didn’t see you at the stone steps, city gates or the Guild’s reception, confusion crossed his brows.  He casually took a seat on one of the nearby outside stools by the Cat’s Tail and waited until the time to clock in at HQ was growing closer.  With hesitation, he got up and looked around for you once more just to see if maybe he could at least catch a glimpse of you rushing around to get a (rather late) start to the day. 

He was antsy all day and he was astonished to find out that throwing a wrench in his morning threw off his day so much. Kaeya knew that seeing you first thing in the morning was quite a lovely way to start his day, but he didn’t know the extent in which it could affect the rest of it.  Not exchanging a good morning with you or even saying his usual ‘be safe’ message at the edge of Mondstadt nagged at him.  

Currently, he was sitting in a remote corner of the Favonious library, legs crossed as his rear was sat towards the front of the seat to make up for the fact his back was bent over the back of it.  He rests a flimsy, paperback book over his face, the pages scent of old paper and ink invaded his nose and the feeling of them rubbed against his cheeks. One of his hands held it open with his thumb and pinky and the other arm was hanging uselessly at his side, his wrist bouncing against his vision from time to time just for something to interact with. 

Underneath the book, his eye was closed.  He had tried reading the passages in this particular book at least four times now, but the words just weren’t registering in his mind, so he had given up. He was left listless; certain he could easily fall asleep in this very position at any given time. Of course, it wasn’t often that Captain Kaeya would get much quiet time to himself anyways. 

“Uh, what are you doing?” The voice of Paimon made Kaeya’s eye open under the book before he was pulling it down his face enough to only reveal that one eye.  Seeing Paimon floating at the Traveler’s side made him slip the book off his face completely and shut it before setting it on the table in front of him. His posture was corrected as he sat up straighter and rolled his neck. 

“Couldn't you tell? I was reading.” 

“Paimon think’s you were slacking off.” 

“Is that what it looked like?” He jokes as he pushes his chair back and stands up properly before placing one of his hands on his hips. “I would never be caught slacking off, you wound me.” 

“We’ve heard that before,” Paimon sighs with a shake of her head.  In the moment, Kaeya is reminded of the conversation he overheard before between you and the other two. The same time of day, the same location, the same two participants of that conversation. 

“Say,” he says to gain both of their attention, “what do you think it is?” Kaeya’s exceptionally broad and unprecedented question left the two Outlanders confused. The way the Captain could almost see materialized question marks float around their heads was comical before he elaborated. “I’m asking about my artist, of course. Surely you must have your own idea, no?” 

Both Traveler and Paimon’s mouth opened in shock.  

“You were listening?!” Paimon shrieks before she is shushed by other people in the library for her volume. 

“It’s rude to eavesdrop, Kaeya,” Traveler tells him as they cross their arms over their chest.  Kaeya fakes a gasp before shaking his head and shrugging with his arms up. 

“Eavesdropping? Why, I’d never.” He dropped his arms back to his sides. “I was simply in the area and didn’t want to interrupt such a compelling conversation topic. That would’ve been quite rude of me, wouldn’t you agree?” The looks he received were easily brushed off. “Anyway, you didn’t answer my question.” 

“Well,” Paimon started, “didn’t y/n say it would be Mondstadt?” 

“And? Do you agree with them?” 

“Paimon doesn’t see a reason why not,” she shrugs in the air. 

“I see,” Kaeya’s arm crosses over his chest before he’s resting his opposite elbow on it to cup his chin. His gaze shifts downward before he's blinking slowly, meaningfully. “I suppose I could give you half marks.” 

“Half marks?!” Paimon whispers. 

“What about ‘the people of Mondstadt?’” The Traveler interjects.  Kaeya’s eye shoots back to them and his hand drops from his chin to resume a casual stance. 

“That assumption is largely correct as well.” The smile he gives the two gives nothing away. It wasn’t clear if he was sincere about what he said or if he was just saying it to hear himself talk. “A mosaic is usually a large piece, yes? It would make sense for there to be multiple people taking part in such a project at some point I suppose.” 

“You suppose? You’re just running us in circles here!” 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Kaeya deflects with a lighthearted tone and short laugh. 

“Fine! We get it!” Paimon huffs before the conversation devolves into little to nothing until he is parting ways with the two, leaving the library and ready to end the day that seemed to have lasted longer than usual. Despite having a rather lax day, he felt lethargic. 

Yet, despite his lethargy, when he finally made it out of his day clothes and into his bed, all he could do was lay on top of his covers and stare at the ceiling. His eyepatch had been removed- just as always when he was in the confines of his home- and his long bangs covered the eye that was always so accustomed to the darkness.  One of his legs was propped up on the mattress with the other stretched out and his arms were folded behind his head. 

His mind was curious about a number of things all the time- so his racing thoughts weren’t unknown to him. Still, the nagging feeling in the back of his mind didn’t let up. Was not seeing you at all really that much of a clog in his daily life? It made him feel so off-set and that alone was enough to plant a seed of anxiety in his chest. 

Kaeya sighs to himself and his ceiling before rolling to his side and letting his bangs slip across his face and reveal his always concealed eye between the blue strands. He closes his eyes and wills his mind to stop dwelling on menial things. 

Heart and mind are difficult things to cooperate with one another though. 

Kaeya Alberich couldn’t risk getting mixed up in too many personal things- it made his future even more murky and daunting than it already was.  

After that one day of missing seeing you out before your commission, Kaeya tried to do it less on purpose. Maybe that was a message from the gods themselves that he needed to take a step back. If your very presence could affect his day to day life like it had, he needed to back off for his sake and yours. And while he didn’t see you off, he still would welcome you back any chance he saw you return to the city with a raised hand he would immediately tuck away again. 

“I didn’t do anything to make you upset, did I?” Of course, you had noticed his sudden shift in nature. 

“Of course not,” he tells you as sincerely as he could. His smile was strained on his lips and his nose felt like twitching from the sheer effort it took just to pull them up. From the unamused look you gave him at his answer, he knew you knew he wasn’t being completely truthful. Still, you just looked away from him and sighed. Kaeya was grateful you didn’t push the issue because a part of him was sure if you had, he would’ve spilled his guts about things he wasn’t sure of himself just yet. 

The process of slowly taking steps away from you wasn’t pleasant for either party. Kaeya’s days had devolved into nothing but more boring paperwork and patrols he could do with his eye closed, and that would mean seeing nothing at all. The dull lag of the daytime was boring to him with nothing to do between his job and downtime he suddenly had. The Angels Share's atmosphere was a welcome comfort to his new, unpleasant routine- though, he could do without the looks from Diluc.

Meanwhile, you had felt the sting of dejection in your chest. You had come to the assumption that maybe Kaeya had finally taken action on your unspoken feelings for him and was politely telling you to take a hike. It was logical to you; a common everyday Adventurer probably couldn’t make it work out with one of the Knights’ Captains. His previous time spent with you was probably just a hindrance, a distraction from his real work, so this was good. He could focus on what was important, protecting Mondstadt. 

Though, that mental pep talk didn’t make it hurt any less. 

Just like Kaeya, you decided to bury yourself in your work. Taking commissions on top of any other field requests. Clearing hilicurl camps wasn’t something difficult and while the occasional Abyss Mage was a pain, it was all manageable. So, when your back to back jobs kept you out of the city for days at a time, that slowly became the norm for the citizens of Mondstadt. 

It was only natural for no one to notice. 

“Has it really been that long?!” Kaeya had been passing through the central square of Mondstadt when he heard the familiar shrill of Paimon. His interest took little to be piqued and he easily strut his way over. “And no one has tried looking for them yet?” Paimon and the Traveler were stuck in a conversation with Katheryne as is the norm for them nowadays when their travels bring them back to the City of Freedom. “Oohhh,” Paimon worries, “Paimon’s worried.” 

“What’s the problem,” Kaeya interjects into the conversation. All eyes shift to him, his easy strides coming to a stop when he fully joins the group with his arms crossing over his chest. “My, what’s with all the long faces?” 

“Kaeya!” Paimon screeches. “Oh, maybe you’ll know! Have you seen y/n around?” Kaeya’s chest tightens. 

“Y/n? I’m afraid we’ve both been too wrapped up in our own duties recently. Sorry to disappoint.” The slight light of hope Paimon dawned dimmed and worry once again took over her features. The tension in his chest felt tighter, like a white-hot coil was entangling itself around his insides and replacing his ribcage. “Has something happened?” He asks slowly, making quite sure his voice doesn’t crack or waver. All his hard work to distance himself from you can’t unravel now; not when you aren’t even here. 

“We aren’t sure,” Katheryne fills in.  All eyes look to her as she repeats what she had just told the duo before Kaeya arrived. “Y/n had taken a rather dangerous commission the other day. It was a job that required them to explore and investigate some ruins that had been discovered behind a wall of rocks on Stormbearer. The commission should’ve well run its course by now, but we haven’t heard back from either the client or y/n, so some of us are beginning to worry.” 

Kaeya’s fists clenched, but no one took notice of them under his cross-armed stance. He made sure to keep his face from giving himself away. 

“Have you made the issue known to the Acting Grand Master?” He questions. Katheryne shakes her head. 

“No, we haven’t. We had had planned on bringing it to her attention if y/n still doesn’t get in touch with us by this evening.” 

“We should let Jean know right now!” Paimon insists and the Traveler easily nods in agreement. “What if they’re stuck in the ruins. Or- or hurt or something!” Paimon’s worry bleeds easily into her words like a fresh wound into water. 

“The last thing we should do is panic,” Kaeya said hypocritically. His gut felt like a boiling cauldron with panic as the main ingredient. Still, his many years of being persuasive and aloof didn’t let any of that show. 

Though, the off hand look the Traveler shot him made him doubt himself; they’ve been awfully diligent when it comes to reading him ever since his wild goose chase he sent them on not long after they arrived in Mondstadt. Or maybe it was just because they had more experience than he initially thought. Still, it almost made him squirm. 

“Well, we’re going to go tell Jean!” Paimon declared, her small hands on her hips as she bobbed up and down in the air. Kaeya just shrugs indifferently, surely not making any moves to oppose them. With a small huff, Paimon and the Traveler take off towards the Knights Headquarters. When they were well out of earshot and sight, Kaeya’s cross arms drop and his gaze moves to the ever-open gate that showed the wilds outside of Mondstadt. 

“Katheryne,” he almost whispers. “You said Stormbearer?” 

Your vision was blurred when you opened your eyes from your, albeit useless, slumber. You had long since tucked yourself between a small alcove of debris and rock in the ruins you had agreed to investigate. Had you known the person who had commissioned this job was some ruin machine-obsessed loon, you wouldn’t had agreed so easily. A couple ruin guards aren’t a big deal, but adding their mechanical brethren- so to speak- on top of a nut job maintaining them the moment you have to step away to recoup, that's when things get tricky. 

Your body had long since grown exhausted from using your Vision by excessively trying not to get killed. Luckily, the mad man only had his madness going for him, so hiding from his view was easy. Staying hidden from the machine’s censors was what worried you, but you had succeeded so far. Because of that very fact, however; you were reluctant to move. Beyond your weary body, hunger and thirst were starting to eat away at you too. 

Having been in hiding with no ample moment to even try fleeing back to the city for additional aid, you had run through what little rations you had. Your gut ached with hunger pains and your throat had never felt dryer, still you weren’t backed up against the preverbal wall so much you threw all caution to the wind. 

Your polearm had remained materialized as you kept it rested against your shoulder for ease of quick use should you require it.  Your vision had never felt heavier from its placement on your person and your hands cramped from how tightly you had gripped your weapon’s staff. You let your head fall back into the rock behind you and let out a silent sigh. 

In truth, you felt more foolish than injured or exhausted. You knew this commission sounded… odd, but you took it anyway. Anything to help distract your mind from the ever cloudy presence of Kaeya- or lack thereof. 

Your small sliver of respite you found in your cove of rock and debris was beginning to quake and crumble… literally. Your eyes you hadn’t realized had dropped back down shoot open and between the crumbling dust that threatened to get into them, you could hear the engines of machines whirring above you. You scramble to get out into the open before your previously, temporary safety could crush you. Though, coming out meant that you would be more vulnerable than you’d prefer. 

The moment your gaze lands on that familiar warm glow of the back of a Ruin Guard, you throw your polearm into its core, coating the blade with water from your Vision without much thought. The guard crackled with electricity as it malfunctioned and was brought to its metallic knees. Sprinting to its back to quickly retrieve your polearm, you made sure to use your Vision to drench its legs and feet just in case it got back up again. Perhaps the moisture would cause it to comically slip and buy you just a bit more time and maybe a chuckle or two. 

It was odd though, aside from the now jagged whirring of the jittering machine in front of you- there was nothing else. No crazed man trying to jump you or sick another random machine of his on you for whatever cause. It was in fact quiet, and that quiet put you on edge. Your brain knew you needed to stay on guard, but the silence was starting to lull your body into a false sense of security you couldn’t trust. 

Still, your mind that had been in fight mode for what should have been days now, had no chance against your weary body. Your grip on your polearm slips and the weapon clatters to the ground just before your knees did and your body slumped rather pathetically afterwards. 

‘If you fall unconscious, you’ll die’,  you mentally scold yourself. Trying to bully yourself into getting back up, keeping your eyes open, keeping your guard up. Still, your mind was beginning to feel as weak as your body. Thoughts swirled together into a mess of intangible words stuck in your mind and your sight was no better.  Perhaps it was your delirium and exhaustion, but your body suddenly grew cold and you vaguely felt goosebumps raise on your skin like winter itself had bloomed in these ruins with you. Among the changes you felt externally, you swore you heard a muffled voice too. 

Perhaps it was the mad man, the one who got you suckered into this stupid job. If it was, he could make quick work of you now since the last of your fight had disappeared taking out that Ruin Ruard core. The warmth you felt on your neck and cheek was the final thing you could mentally register before your body succumbed to its burdens.

‘Odd’, was the first thing that crossed your mind when you found yourself staring blankly up at a well maintained ceiling. You were sure that if you woke up again, and not gotten yourself killed or crushed, you’d be waking up to jagged rocks and mossy walls. So, the well furnished room you now occupied threw you for a loop- which your pounding head didn’t exactly take well. 

The room you were in was familiar, and you were sure you’ve been here before, but your foggy mind couldn’t process where you were.  The bed you were tucked into was soft and comforting, and with a wince the mattress gave when you push yourself to sit up. You were alone in the room and without much thought, you shuffle your legs out from under the blankets thrown over you to place your feet onto the floor and wobble up to your legs with the help of the bedside table acting as a- albeit less than desirable- crutch. 

The door creaking open was almost mistaken by you for the sound of your sore joints straightening out, as humorous as that was to you since you let a brief, lighthearted laugh escape you in a huff. Then, with your sights on the ground, you noticed a shadow casted by light you don't remember being in the room with you before. 

You follow the shadow along the hard floor covered with a single, purple rug until your eyes found a pair of all too familiar boots.  Your aching body starts to feel anxious- a small wave of gooseflesh running across your exposed skin at the idea of Kaeya being in your proximity for the first time in a while. Still, regardless of how you hadn’t been able to squash your silly crush on him or properly prepare yourself for a possible rejection without even confessing- you were no coward. 

With both hands tense on the bedside table, you raise your head to look at the blue haired man who had removed the fur, half-cape from his shoulder.  It was strange seeing how empty his shoulder was without the extra fluff the fur provided. Still, it was nice to see him in his entirety again since it had been a while. The blacklight of the space behind him made it difficult to see his expression since the lights in the room you had woken up in had been turned off presumably for your ease of comfort. 

“It’s been a while,” was the lamest thing that’s come out of your mouth in a while.

Of course it had been, you were both actively avoiding each other and practically the whole of Mondstadt picked up on it. Looking behind his shoulder you could only barely see corners of art pieces on the walls behind him and another rug that ran down the hall behind his heels.  “Kaeya, am I at your house?” You ask, finally realizing where you recognized your surroundings from.  

You’d been in his living room plenty of times visiting, but you had hardly been back in his room unless you were the one tasked with dragging him home from Angels Share and were generous enough to lug his body weight back to his bed. It was a rare occurrence since you were normally one to just dump him on the couch with a blanket and glass of water for his possible next morning hangover. 

Kaeya never graced you with an answer before he was marching into the room. His bootsteps seem louder than usual on his hardwood floors of his enclosed room, but maybe that was just the headache. His hands shoot out to grab your shoulders and turn you towards him, your hands that had been on the wooden night table were effectively removed from its surface and now Kaeya’s grip was the only crutch you had for balance before your brain could full calibrate standing without swaying again. 

“What on Teyvat were you thinking?!” He raised his voice and even in the dimly lit room with only light from the hall flooding in, you could easily see his expressions now. His brow was turned in a frown and his eye clouded with something you couldn’t pinpoint. It was a far cry from his normally suave and dismissive behavior. “Taking an obviously suspicious commission in ruins that hadn’t been officially investigated by the Knights? Seriously, you thought that was smart?!” 

His temper only made your headache worse and in turn soured your already not-so-great mood.  Reaching up to grab his arms like a hook for support, you verbally push back. 

“I think I'm capable of handling things myself, you know? The Guild doesn’t need the Knights’ to babysit them for every little thing, and as a member of the Guild that applies to me too!” 

“Oh yes, so capable you spontaneously disappear for days? Does that sound capable to you?” 

“It does actually because I was handling things just fine by myself, not that it makes a difference to you.” 

“You collapsed next to a Ruin Guard, y/n! What would you have done if it had restarted or if something else would have happened? Magically wake up and jump into battle again, because I have my doubts about that!” 

“What is your problem, Kayea?!” 

“You! You are my problem!” 

Astonished, you scoff before rolling your eyes.  It had been so long since you hashed it out like this with anyone, let alone Kaeya. It didn’t feel good, it made you feel sick to your stomach. Not hearing any retaliations from you, Kaeya guides you by the shoulders back against the edge of the mattress and pushes you to sit down again. You didn’t let yourself release the sigh of relief that you felt now that the weight of your own limbs was lifted- you wouldn’t give the Captain that satisfaction.

You expected him to let go of you, release your shoulders and march out of the room and maybe slam the door for good measure. Or maybe pace around the room before ordering you good enough to argue, so you would be good enough to get out of his hair. Out of the possibilities, the only thing that you predicted right was him releasing your shoulders. 

Kaeya's hands left your shoulders before sliding down your arms and dropping to the mattress edge on either side of you. You were stunned when he dropped to his knees in front of you and the pressure of his forehead resting on your knee felt heavier than anything. Caging you with his arms and using his head as an anchor on your legs he had effectively trapped you. You kept your hands tucked into each other by your stomach, making sure your knuckles wouldn’t brush even a strand of his hair and you could feel the thin strap of his eyepatch leaving an intent on your skin. 

“Kaeya,” you sighed heavily, his name leaving your lips like a weight. 

“I tried,” his muffled voice sounds weak that your gaze softens at the abrupt tone change. “I did. I tried to fix it, but my problem is still you and I can’t do anything about it.” 

“I have no idea what you’re-” 

“Tell me what to do.” His words that interrupt yours cause you to furrow in confusion. 

“What?” 

“Tell me what to do,” he repeats with a strained voice. “I have so many things I need to do, choices but I- I don't want to. So, do it for me.” 

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about. What does all that even mean?” 

“Make me choose you,” he sighs heavily before the hands of his that were placed on the mattress beside you move to lightly grab at your shirt like he was scared to touch you further. As if you’d push him away, scorn him for his actions and inactions alike. “Because I will. I just- I need someone- you, you need to-” His sentences never finish as his breaths become uneven. The hands that grip your shirt tighten to ball the fabric in his fists now. “I’m sorry.” 

Never had you seen Kaeya, the ever debonair Calvary Captain who kept all his secrets stored into his chest, kneel and subsequently crumble like this to anyone- much less to you. Perhaps in the past he never talks about, Diluc had seen him so weak, but that would be where the witness list ends. You lift your hands from your lap and hover them over his hunched body that clung to you like a child; you were unsure if touching him would set him off or if he would recoil from you. Your silence only made his hands that ensnared your shirt tug on the fabric like an anchor keeping a ship from sailing away. 

One of your hands reach to his head and your fingertips breach the blue tresses of his hair. His shoulders tensed and you almost snatched your hand away. 

“Don’t,” he mumbled into your leg. You weren’t sure if he was saying not to touch him or not to pull away. So, you kept your hand half in his hair and unmoving. 

You yelp when the tugging on your shirt flew into a harsh yank. The back of your knees that had previously been resting snug against the edge of the mattress were now well away with the back of your thighs replacing their spot. Closer to sliding right off the bed than comfortably sitting on it, Kaeya’s arms moved to wind around your waist and his face found a new home in your stomach as your arms hovered in the arm like a puppet's dangling from unused strings. 

You could feel the weight of his words fall onto your legs by way of the tears leaving his eyes. You could feel it in the way his shoulders shake and the uneven breaths that warms your lap through his mouth.

“Kaeya,” you softly start, “what has gotten into you? I've never seen you act like this before.” You slowly lower your arms and place your palms on his shoulders gently so as to not startle him; you weren’t going to keep them in the air forever, they’re sore. 

“I’m from Khaenri’ah, you know?” His voice strains as he lets out a pathetic laugh that’s damp with a web forming in his throat. He feels your hands on his shoulders twitch and his grip around you tightens so you have no chance of running from him. 

“Kaeya, what-” 

“My father abandoned me here with the intention of using me as a spy. I’ve only ever told Diluc, but when I did a lot happened and he left, abandoning me too. I don’t care about Khaenri’ah- not anymore- Mondstadt is my home. It’s where my friends are, my brother- even if he will never accept that role again. I can’t leave Mondstadt behind.” 

“I’m sure Diluc doesn’t hate you, not like you think. He just- he’s set in his stubborn ways and isn’t good at communicating.” You decide to speak only on his mention of Diluc, since the new information of the land in which he supposedly hails was still processing in your mind. 

Your previous comparison of Diluc to a rock briefly comes to mind at the mention of his stubbornnes. You nearly laugh at the thought, but now is definitely not the time.

“Please, please, make me choose you. Tell me to, order it of me, I don’t care. Just- don’t make me live without my artist. I can’t risk that again; I can’t take being abandoned again.” 

“Artist? Kaeya, what are you talking about?” You felt like you didn’t understand the words coming out of his mouth. 

There was a bout of silence after your question and the air felt heavy. You know Kaeya heard you, but he was reluctant to answer. Odd, considering the word vomit he had already coughed up in the last several minutes since he came into the room. Your hands start to move and lightly rub his shoulders over onto his neck, silently trying to coax him into talking more. 

“I heard what you said to the Traveler.” You almost roll your eyes because that could be literally anything. Does he know how often you get the chance to actually run into them and Paimon? He is just trying to dodge the question and by habit you lightly swat at his head. A silent, ‘okay smartass’ to keep him going in the right direction. He almost scoffs into your lap for that one. “You called me a mosaic.” Oh. “You told the Traveler that ‘Mondstadt’ is my artist; they said the ‘People of Mondstadt’, but only I know who my artist truly is.” His arms around you twitch and you could almost feel a stitch of pain in your side from how long he's been effectively squeezing you. “My artist is you. It’s just you.” 

The room is engulfed in a silence that feels heavy, yet... somehow also relieving. So much time recently had been the both of you dancing around the issues neither of you wanted to confront and all it took was you getting yourself into potentially mortal danger for days on end for the truth to come out. Kaeya knew you were someone important, but he didn’t realize just how heavy your permanent absence would be to him. Just the thought of possibly finding you in those ruins dead made his throat burn and ache like swallowing a ball of thorns. 

“Kaeya.” 

“I’m not lying,” his voice was strained, filled with fear of being labeled someone worthy of nothing. 

“I wasn’t going to say you are,” the hand that had previously tapped his head now rested on his nest of blue hair. The gentle strokes of your palm against his scalp were soothing as he felt your breath move your stomach against his head. “I don't see why you would lie to me right now.”  There was no doubt in your mind that everything that came out of his mouth was the unadulterated truth. You’ve never seen the suave captain bleed such vulnerability before. 

You didn’t say anything else to him after that. You move your hands to his arms, unwinding yourself from them before pulling him pathetically up onto his own bed. Not even bothering to fix your position, you fall back onto the mattress with your feet hanging off the edge and he easily follows you. From the lighting provided from the hall, you notice his eyepatch string had loosened from all his face hiding and you take it upon yourself to tighten it- securing it back where it belongs. Your fingertips linger around its material for but a moment before sliding down to his cheek.

His eye is brimmed with tears that had stained his skin with tracks and swelling. He also wouldn’t make eye contact with you, and you roll your eyes endearingly at his childish whims. With you both laying sideways on the bed, feet and legs hanging and not even a blanket to cover up with, your thumb run over his skin. Kaeya is quick to reach for and latch his grip delicately onto your wrist to keep it there. 

“‘M sorry,” he mutters again, sounding much more shy than he did before now that his face was in view of your gaze. You smile at him, knowing there was a long and meaningful talk in the near future. 

“I know. Go to sleep.” 

“But I-” 

“Artists' orders,'' you chortle. He just scoffs and offers his own eye roll, but his cheek warms under your palm. His eye closes and he let out a deep breath before taking one back in and repeating. 

“Stay until I open my eyes again.” 

“I will.” 

And you did. 

#kaeya x reader #kaeya angst #kaeya fluff #kaeya hurt/comfort #kaeya x y/n #kaeya alberich #genshin impact #genshin impact kaeya #kaeya comfort #kaeya fic #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact fic

[theodysseyofhomer]

Emily Wilson is a professor of classical studies at the University of Pennsylvania. Her translation of the “Odyssey” was published in 2017, and her translation of the “Iliad” will be published in September.

June 28, 2023

In one of the most moving and memorable scenes from the “Iliad,” the great Trojan warrior Hector says farewell to his wife, Andromache, who has urged him not to risk his life by fighting on the plain. He gives their baby back to her, tells her to go home, and reiterates his decision to advance on the enemy.

Around 100 complete English translations of the “Iliad” have been published over the past 400 years. Their variety shows no clear trajectory of cultural change: Some of the more recent Homers are more archaic and less idiomatic than many earlier ones, but some are not. A wide variety of forms are used to “translate” the dactylic hexameter of the original, including prose and free verse as well as several poetic meters.

The translations reflect a wide range of possible interpretations of this short passage. Is Hector harshly scolding Andromache for offering advice about the war, despite her gender? Or is he treating her with gentle pity? Is she worried only about her husband’s death, or is she also concerned about her own imminent enslavement and their baby’s slaughter? Are her concerns valid? Does the warrior risk his life despite his love for his family, or because of it? Why must men fight? Why must women weave? How strange, or how familiar, is the society of the poem?

Each of these translations — along with dozens more — suggests a different understanding of the central themes of courage, marriage, fate and death.

The Original ‘Iliad’ 6. 482-497

The original poem is composed in beautifully musical, metrically regular dactylic hexameter, and designed to be performed out loud: It is poetry for the mouth and ear, not the page.

The scene evokes the complex emotions of three separate characters — the frightened baby, the woman, the man — and it also includes a silent fourth, the enslaved nurse.

The text provides a vivid account not only of Hector’s words, but also of his actions. At the end of the passage, he picks up again the shining helmet that he took off because its plume frightened his little son, and in so doing, he becomes again “bright-helmed Hector,” as the traditional formula of heroic poetry describes him: He again assumes his role and costume as a man who lives and will die by war.

Before this passage, Andromache has pleaded with Hector to adopt a safer strategy, rather than go to almost certain death by meeting the enemy on the open plain. As she reminds him, Hector is risking much more than his own life. His death will entail his wife’s rape and enslavement, their baby’s violent death and the sack of their city.

Hector’s response suggests a fascinatingly contradictory attitude toward his own actions. His firm tone could suggest brash confidence and/or a man steeling himself for a heartbreaking choice to prioritize his own honor over the lives and freedom of everyone he loves — a choice that becomes possible only when presented as no choice at all.

George Chapman (1611)

The first complete translation into English, by the playwright and erstwhile soldier Chapman, creates a staunch, fatalistic version of Hector, reflecting the poet’s interest in Stoicism. Chapman uses a metrical form that was already old-fashioned in his day, “fourteeners,” or rhyming heptameters; the original does not rhyme.

The translation expands on the original in ways that may be startling by modern norms — for instance, by rendering the single word for “tearfully,” dakruon, as “fresh streams of love’s salt fire.”

…This said, th’ heroic sire Gave him his mother; whose fair eyes fresh streams of love’s salt fire Billow’d on her soft cheeks, to hear the last of Hector’s speech ,In which his vows compris’d the sum of all he did beseech In her wish’d comfort. So she took into her od’rous breast Her husband’s gift; who, mov’d to see her heart so much oppress’d, He dried her tears, and thus desir’d: “Afflict me not, dear wife, With these vain griefs. He doth not live, that can disjoin my life And this firm bosom, but my fate; and fate, whose wings can fly? Noble, ignoble, fate controls. Once born, the best must die, Go home, and set thy housewif’ry on these extremes of thought; And drive war from them with thy maids; keep them from doing nought. These will be nothing; leave the cares of war to men, and me In whom, of all the Ilion race, they take their high’st degree.” On went his helm; his princess home, half cold with kindly fears; When ev’ry fear turn’d back her looks, and ev’ry look shed tears.

Alexander Pope (1715)

Pope’s translation, into elegant rhyming pentameter couplets, was a best seller in the 18th century and remains a classic. Pope adds a great many details entirely of his own invention, inserting anachronistic notions of marriage (“my soul’s far better part”), and explaining emotional responses that are unstated or ambiguous in the original: For example, Homer does not explain why Andromache is crying, but Pope clarifies that it is from “fear.” Pope invents some wonderful aphorisms that have no basis in the original but add zing to the couplet, such as “the first in danger as the first in fame.”

He spoke, and fondly gazing on her charms, Restored the pleasing burden to her arms; Soft on her fragrant breast the babe she laid, Hush’d to repose, and with a smile survey’d. The troubled pleasure soon chastised by fear, She mingled with a smile a tender tear. The soften’d chief with kind compassion view’d, And dried the falling drops, and thus pursued: ”Andromache! my soul’s far better part, Why with untimely sorrows heaves thy heart? No hostile hand can antedate my doom, Till fate condemns me to the silent tomb. Fix’d is the term to all the race of earth; And such the hard condition of our birth: No force can then resist, no flight can save, All sink alike, the fearful and the brave. No more — but hasten to thy tasks at home, There guide the spindle, and direct the loom: Me glory summons to the martial scene, The field of combat is the sphere for men. Where heroes war, the foremost place I claim, The first in danger as the first in fame.” Thus having said, the glorious chief resumes His towery helmet, black with shading plumes. His princess parts with a prophetic sigh, Unwilling parts, and oft reverts her eye That stream’d at every look; then, moving slow, Sought her own palace, and indulged her woe.

Samuel Butler (1898)

The prose version by the 19th-century novelist and satirist Butler — a lifelong bachelor — suggests a very different set of assumptions about women, metaphysics, emotions (“his heart yearned towards her” for eleēse, “pitied”) and even time management (“daily duties” for erga, “tasks”). Butler treats Homer’s repeated epithets as skippable, so that phaidimos Hector (“glorious Hector”) becomes simply “he.”

With this he laid the child again in the arms of his wife, who took him to her own soft bosom, smiling through her tears. As her husband watched her his heart yearned towards her and he caressed her fondly, saying, “My own wife, do not take these things too bitterly to heart. No one can hurry me down to Hades before my time, but if a man’s hour is come, be he brave or be he coward, there is no escape for him when he has once been born. Go, then, within the house, and busy yourself with your daily duties, your loom, your distaff, and the ordering of your servants; for war is man’s matter, and mine above all others of them that have been born in Ilion.” He took his plumed helmet from the ground, and his wife went back again to her house, weeping bitterly and often looking back towards him.

Robert Fagles (1990)

Fagles’s best-selling translation, in unmetrical free verse, uses many familiar American idioms and clichés (such as “smiling through her tears,” or “filled with pity,” a metaphor absent from the original). He softens the brusqueness of Hector’s final speech to his wife by rendering daimonie as the gentle “dear one,” and adding “trying to reassure her” and “please,” neither of which appears in the Greek.

Fagles makes Hector’s most iconic phrase, that men must be warriors, sound much chattier and wordier than the original, spreading it over two lines: “as for the fighting / men…”

… So Hector prayed and placed his son in the arms of his loving wife. Andromache pressed the child to her scented breast, smiling through her tears. Her husband noticed, and filled with pity now, Hector stroked her gently, trying to reassure her, repeating her name: “Andromache, dear one, why so desperate? Why so much grief for me? No man will hurl me down to Death, against my fate. And fate? No man alive has ever escaped it, neither brave man nor coward, I tell you — it’s born with us the day that we are born. So please go home and tend to your own tasks, the distaff and the loom, and keep the women working hard as well. As for the fighting, men will see to that, all who were born in Troy but I most of all.” Hector aflash in arms took up his horsehair-crested helmet once again. And his loving wife went home, turning, glancing back again and again and weeping live warm tears.

Emily Wilson (2023)

In my own translation of the “Iliad,” I echo the metrical regularity of the original by using unrhyming iambic pentameter. I thought long and hard about the multiple narrative perspectives suggested by the original poem, and its resonant ambiguities; in this passage, for example, I use both “beloved” and “loving” for phile — a word that could suggest either, or both — because the feelings of both the wife and the husband are at stake.

The rhetorically punchy qualities of Hector’s speech seemed essential, as well as Hector’s insistent focus on his own defining identity as a warrior. Hector is a deeply loving father and husband who makes the choice to leave his family to almost-certain enslavement and death.

As I read the Greek, we feel heartbroken for all three members of the family (or for all four, counting the silent nurse) — and all the more so because there is no hint of sentimentality in the language, no softness in Hector’s final words. The emotions are sketched with extraordinary concision: The only explicit feeling is Hector’s pity for Andromache’s tears (eleēse), but a world of other emotions is evoked through gesture.

…With these words, he gave his son to his beloved wife. She let him snuggle in her perfumed dress, and tearfully she smiled. Her husband noticed and pitied her. He took her by the hand and said to her, “Strange woman! Come on now, you must not be too sad on my account. No man can send me to the house of Hades before my time. No man can get away from destiny, first set for us at birth, however cowardly or brave he is. Go home and do the things you have to do. Work on your loom and spindle and instruct the slaves to do their household work as well. War is a task for men — for every man born here in Troy, but most especially, me.” When he had finished speaking, glorious Hector picked up his helmet with its horsehair plume. His loving wife set off for home, but kept twisting and turning back to look at him. More and more tears kept flooding down her face.

#emily wilson #quotes #the iliad #hektor #andromakhe #hektor x andromakhe #i know not everyone has nyt subscription but this is fascinating re:translation so i have provided the whole text under the read more :)

[da-awesom-one]

At All Costs (Snowflake Version) - Chris Pine & Idina Menzel

Art I commissioned from Frost_Art on Instagram.

*DISCLAIMER: These lyrics are fan-made lyrics of a song created and owned by Disney for characters that are owned by both Disney and Dreamworks respectively . No money is being made off of this. This was solely written for recreational purposes.*

Context: This is set during Frozen II, in the middle of the Dark Sea scene. They’ve barely survived the Nokk, and Jack is the most upset he’s ever been. Elsa left him behind not once, but twice. The first when they left Kristoff and Sven behind, and the second when she sent Olaf and Anna away. Not only that, she recklessly runs into the Dark Sea, and that’s not mentioning his fear of water. Coupled with the fear of being sent away, and not feeling like he has a place in Arendelle, he’s really struggling to prove his worth without being selfish.

Love is selflessness, and he has taken that to heart since the events of Frozen 1, where he abandoned Elsa before her parents died, and he did everything in his power to make up for it when she finally sees him again. However, it doesn't always work in the right way. So he’s desperately trying to not be what he perceives to be selfish, for being selfish is what almost lost him his best friend in the first place, and he is deeply afraid of losing his new family. Of losing Elsa.

But somewhere along the way, whether he understands or want to admit it or not, things changed. Jack sees Elsa differently, just as she started to in her late teens, but kept quiet due to what happened and out of respect to her friend, also because she's not sure she understands it either.

They argue in the Dark Sea, telling her he doesn't want to lose her, but right as Jack’s about to say what he actually wants, he relents, saying what he wants doesn’t matter. Elsa doesn’t accept that. Once they get to safety, she tells him what he wants matters to HER.

And he tells her he wants to stay with her forever. That he sees her the way Kristoff does to Anna. But time, fate, what have you, makes it seem like no matter what he does, he can’t. But still, he wants to be with her regardless. Because she is his destiny. And being with her makes him feel better, and whole.

So then he starts singing. And so does she. And for the first time since entering the Enchanted Forest, they're on the same page. Better now than ever before.

Sing = Siiing

-

(VERSE 1)

J: If destiny is a set-in-stone thing,

Mine would be you.

If you'd have told me the feelings you'd bring,

I'd think them untrue.

Yet I never thought I’d meet someone like you.

Not in this life.

You still amaze me after all this time.

(PRE-CHORUS)

You pull me in like some kind of wind.

Clearing up all the doubts within.

Making me wanna tell ya...

…That I…

(CHORUS)

Love you as one does.

I, I would protect you 

At all costs.

Take you here into my arms.

I, I would protect you 

At all costs.

At all costs.

(VERSE 2)

E: How to say… the words that I wish to convey?

That I want you, too. Even if I tried to,

I can’t go back to life before you.

If someone tried to stop this, I don't

See how that could happen.

I'd fight for us in ways you can't imagine.

I’ve felt this once before, so I hope

It would be alright to stand right here and tell you…

(CHORUS)

B: I love you as one does.

I, I will protect you 

At all costs.

Hold you right here in my arms.

I, I will protect you 

At all costs!

At all costs!

(BRIDGE)

If you're ever feeling like you're lost,

I’ll come find you!

Man all fronts! There's no ocean I won't swim across

To be right by you!

And not just once. Here and now, I swear on my response,

I'll remind you…

(FINAL CHORUS)

I love you as one does.

I, I will protect you 

At all costs!

Keep you safe here in my arms!

I, I will protect you 

At all costs!

At all costs.

(END)

-

Debated whether or not to do this after posting the Jack Frost This Is The Thanks I Get?!, and finally hearing this for the first time. I got giddy, as this is definitely one of the top songs from the Wish soundtrack, and it struck me as odd that the villain, who in the movie was married, and the protagonist would sing something that sounded... well, romantic.

After seeing Wish for the context of it, and later discovering the Demo Version, learning that it WAS originally written as a love song, well... I had to go back and tweak my original draft.

@doodlemel's Animatic of them singing this song definitely didn't help, either. XD

I had to tweak bits that weren't making sense for Jack to say, especially parts that Magnifico said in the movie that kinda hinted to his more sinister persona. Because Jack is a good guy, but also someone who has never experienced these kinda feelings before, as well as also dealing with a lot of mistakes and trauma that influence his perception of whether or not his feelings are genuine, and whether he has a right to feel these feelings.

Elsa, for her part. is more straightforward, remarkably. Because I headcanon that she fell in love first, but Jack was being Shonen Protagonist oblivious to it. And by the time he started feeling a spark of something similar, stuff had already happened between them that they needed to clear up. But her feelings for him never really went away, even if she got better at hiding them. So when she hears him FINALLY admit that he feels the same way, she doesn't have to hide anymore. She lets him say his piece, and responds in kind.

Ultimately, I didn't really change much but the first parts where they sing, and parts of the choruses. Especially the “love” parts, as I just HAD to incorporate the original Demo Version into it. It's telling a sort of story. Of them slowly synchronizing once more, and finally ending with them being of one mind and heart.

For to love on a spectrum that has both beings as one, in my opinion, is truly a beautiful thing.

#at all costs #disney #disney wish #jelsa #jack x elsa #snowtp #snowtpnetwork #jack frost #jackson overland frost #jackson overland #elsa #queen elsa #elsa of arendelle #the snow queen #rise of the guardians #frozen #frozen 2 #dreamworks #dreamworks animation #fanfiction #writing #jelsa fanart #jelsa fanfiction #i ship jelsa #lyrics #fan lyrics #chris pine #idina menzel

[tosomeonessomeone]

a heart laid bare.

words・ 4.5k /pairings・ non Idol Jisung x reader / genres・fluff / warnings・ suggestive You - Major in literature Han Jisung - Major in music

Professor Lee announced the upcoming seminar on different poetry genres, and to your surprise, you were paired with Han Jisung for the project. 

"Hello," you said, mustering a smile as you approached Han Jisung after class.

"Hi," he replied, flashing a friendly grin. "Looks like we're partners for the seminar. I'm Han Jisung."

"Nice to meet you, I'm [Your Name]," you replied, feeling a bit nervous but also intrigued by his warm demeanor.

"Confessional poetry, huh? It's quite an interesting topic," Han Jisung remarked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"Yeah, definitely. I think it's fascinating how poets use their own experiences and emotions to create such powerful works," you replied, feeling a sense of connection already.

Despite the looming deadline, the journey felt exhilarating, filled with moments of discovery and shared creativity. And as you exchanged drafts and ideas, you couldn't help but wonder where this newfound connection would lead, both in your project and beyond.

In the quiet solitude of the campus library, surrounded by towering shelves of books, Han Jisung's voice echoed softly in the dimly lit aisle. His eyes, illuminated by the gentle glow of the reading lamps, held a spark of excitement as he leaned in closer.

"I never realized how raw and vulnerable confessional poetry could be," Han Jisung confessed, his words hanging in the air like delicate whispers. "It's like peeling back layers of emotion, uncovering truths that resonate deep within."

His voice carried a sense of wonder, as if he had stumbled upon a hidden treasure buried beneath the weight of words. You listened intently, drawn to the passion that infused his every syllable, and nodded in silent agreement.

"Yeah, it's incredible how these poets lay bare their innermost thoughts and feelings," you replied, your own voice hushed with reverence. "It's like they're inviting us into the depths of their souls, sharing their joys and sorrows without reservation."

You knew that this late-night study session was just the beginning of a deeper exploration, one that would lead you both to the very essence of what it means to be human.

As you and Han Jisung embarked on your journey through the world of confessional poetry, you decided to dedicate each week to a different writer, immersing yourselves in their words and emotions. One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, you gathered in your dorm room, surrounded by the soft glow of lamplight and the scent of old books.

"This week, let's focus on Sylvia Plath," you suggested, reaching for a worn copy of "Ariel" from your bookshelf.

Han Jisung nodded eagerly, settling onto the floor beside you. "Sounds good. Her poetry has always had a way of cutting straight to the heart."

You opened the book to a dog-eared page and began to read aloud, the words tumbling from your lips like a whispered confession. "‘I am terrified by this dark thing that sleeps in me…’"

Han Jisung listened intently, his gaze fixed on the page as if trying to unravel the secrets hidden within each line. "Wow," he breathed, his voice barely a whisper. "It's like she's laying bare her innermost fears for the world to see."

You nodded in agreement, feeling the weight of Plath's words settle like a heavy cloak around your shoulders. "Her ability to capture the darkness and despair within the human soul is truly remarkable."

As the week progressed, you and Han Jisung found yourselves drawn deeper into the labyrinth of Plath's poetry, reading and re-reading her verses to each other late into the night. With each passing day, you uncovered new layers of meaning and emotion, finding solace in the shared experience of exploring the depths of the human psyche.

"And what about Anne Sexton?" Han Jisung suggested one evening, his eyes alight with curiosity.

You nodded, eager to delve into the haunting verses of Sexton's confessional poetry. Together, you opened the pages of "Live or Die," letting the words wash over you like a tidal wave of emotion.

"'Your courage was a small coal that you kept swallowing,'" you read, your voice trembling with emotion.

Han Jisung sat in silence, absorbing the weight of Sexton's words. "It's like she's grappling with her own mortality, wrestling with the demons that haunt her every waking moment."

As the days turned into weeks, you and Han Jisung found yourselves drawn together not only by your shared passion for poetry but also by a growing sense of companionship and connection. The long picnics you dedicated to discussing poetry became cherished moments of shared intimacy, where the boundaries between friendship and something more began to blur.

Sitting on the soft grass under the shade of a sprawling oak tree, you unfolded your picnic blanket, the aroma of freshly baked bread mingling with the scent of wildflowers. As you exchanged verses and interpretations, laughter danced on the breeze, weaving a tapestry of shared memories and inside jokes.

"We should do this more often," Han Jisung remarked, his eyes crinkling with a smile. "It's like our own little oasis away from the chaos of the world."

You nodded in agreement, feeling the warmth of the sun against your skin and the gentle rustle of leaves overhead. In that moment, the world seemed to slow to a halt, and all that mattered was the quiet rhythm of your breaths and the gentle cadence of your laughter.

You found yourselves seeking each other out in moments of solitude and solace. Whether it was strolling through the bustling streets of the city, savoring the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee in quaint cafes, or losing track of time in the hushed corners of the library, you discovered a shared joy in each other's presence.

Even as you juggled the demands of your respective majors, you found solace in the moments spent together, learning and growing side by side. Whether it was discussing the intricacies of English literature or unraveling the mysteries of music theory, each shared experience became an opportunity to deepen your connection and broaden your horizons.

One day as you wandered through the corridors, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee in hand, your steps led you to the music hall where Han Jisung was scheduled for piano monitoring. With a warm smile, you settled outside the classroom, the familiar melody of his playing drifting through the closed door.

As the minutes passed, you sipped your coffee, the rich flavor mingling with the anticipation humming in the air. And then, as if drawn by an invisible force, you pushed open the door and stepped inside.

There, bathed in the soft glow of afternoon light, Han Jisung sat at the piano, his fingers dancing across the keys with effortless grace. The music swirled around the room, filling every corner with its enchanting melody, wrapping you in its embrace.

For a moment, you stood rooted to the spot, captivated by the sight of Han Jisung lost in his world of music. His eyes were closed, his expression serene, as if he were communing with something beyond the reach of words.

As the final notes faded into silence, Han Jisung opened his eyes, his gaze meeting yours with a mixture of surprise and delight. A shy smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he gestured for you to come closer.

"You heard that?" he asked, his voice soft with wonder.

You nodded, the warmth of the moment enveloping you like a soft blanket. "It was beautiful," you replied, your heart swelling with admiration.

He looked into your eyes with a secretive glint in his eyes. "That piece was part of my self-authored poem," he confessed, his voice tinged with a hint of excitement. "But it's a secret for now."

Surprised by his revelation, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of curiosity. "A secret poem?" you echoed, leaning in closer, eager to hear more.

Han Jisung nodded, a mischievous smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Yes, I've been working on it for some time. I wanted it to be a surprise, something special."

In that moment, a wave of warmth washed over you, touched by Han Jisung's thoughtfulness and creativity. "I can't wait to hear it," you replied, your heart swelling with anticipation.

Han Jisung's eyes sparkled with excitement as he continued, "I hope to turn it into a song someday, but I need to find the right melody first. Something that captures the essence of the words."

You nodded in understanding, marveling at his dedication and passion for his craft. "I have no doubt it will be amazing," you assured him, your voice filled with unwavering confidence.

With just one week left until the seminar, you knew that together, you and Han Jisung were ready to take on whatever challenges lay ahead, armed with nothing but your love for literature and the unshakeable bond that had blossomed between you.

As you huddled together in the cozy confines of your dorm room, surrounded by scattered notebooks and 

half-empty mugs of coffee, the hours melted away in a blur of passionate discussion and shared laughter. 

"We're almost there," you remarked, your voice tinged with a hint of exhaustion but buoyed by a sense of accomplishment. "Just a few more tweaks and we'll be ready for the big day."

Han Jisung nodded in agreement, his eyes alight with determination. "I have a feeling our hard work is going to pay off. This seminar is going to be something special."

And as the first light of dawn painted the sky in shades of pink and gold, you finally allowed yourselves a moment of respite, knowing that the journey you had embarked upon together was far from over. 

With Saturday stretching out before you like a blank canvas, filled with endless possibilities, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement for the adventures that lay ahead.

As you and Han Jisung settled onto the soft rug, bathed in the warm glow of the lamp, a sense of unease settled over you like a heavy blanket. Despite the late hour and the quiet stillness of the room, your mind raced with a flurry of thoughts and emotions, each one more elusive than the last.

"I just can't seem to find the right words," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "I've been trying to write my poem, but it's like the words won't come."

Han Jisung nodded in understanding, his presence a comforting anchor amidst the swirling chaos of your thoughts. "It's okay," he reassured you, his voice gentle and reassuring. "Sometimes, the hardest part is finding the courage to let the words flow."

With a heavy sigh, you closed your eyes, willing the floodgates of inspiration to open. But try as you might, the blank page remained stubbornly devoid of any semblance of poetry, a silent testament to your inner struggle.

"I just want it to be perfect," you admitted, the weight of expectation bearing down on your shoulders like a burden too heavy to bear.

Han Jisung reached out, his hand resting gently on yours, a silent gesture of solidarity and support. "It doesn't have to be perfect," he said, his voice soft but firm. "It just has to be true."

His words hung in the air like a lifeline, guiding you back to the heart of your creativity and reminding you that the beauty of poetry lies not in its perfection, but in its honesty and vulnerability.

And as you leaned against the bed, surrounded by the soft glow of lamplight and the steady rhythm of Han Jisung's presence, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, united in purpose and bound by the bonds of friendship and shared passion.

As you looked at Han Jisung, lost in the quiet rhythm of his work, a wave of inspiration washed over you, igniting a spark deep within your soul. The dim light cast soft shadows across the room, enveloping the two of you in a cocoon of intimacy and possibility.

In that fleeting moment, as the world outside faded into oblivion, you found yourself drawn to the beauty of the scene unfolding before you—the gentle rustle of papers, the steady cadence of Han Jisung's breathing, the unspoken connection that bound you together.

With a sense of purpose coursing through your veins, you reached for your pen, the ink flowing like a river of creativity as you scribbled down every word that danced across your mind. 

Each line was a testament to the quiet strength of friendship and the power of shared dreams, woven together with threads of love and vulnerability.

As the words spilled onto the page, a sense of clarity washed over you, like a beacon guiding you home. In the midst of chaos and uncertainty, you had found your anchor, your sanctuary—the poetry that lay dormant within your soul, waiting to be unleashed.

And as you poured your heart onto the page, each word a testament to the beauty of the human experience, you knew that this moment would forever be etched into the fabric of your memory—a silent tribute to the power of inspiration, and the transformative magic of connection.

“In shadows cast by evening's gentle hue,

In whispered sighs beneath the crescent moon,

A heart laid bare, adorned with shades of blue,

Confession wrapped in verses' soft cocoon.

Beneath the lamplight's tender, flickering glow,

I trace the contours of a secret flame,

A love that blossoms but dare not to show,

Its petals sheltered from the world's acclaim.

In stolen glances, fleeting moments shared,

A melody of longing softly hummed,

In every line, a tender truth declared,

A symphony of whispers left unsung.

With every word, a silent vow I keep,

In ink-stained pages, where my secrets sleep.”

As you looked down at your words, a moment of realization struck you like a bolt from the blue. Lost in the rhythm of your own thoughts, you hadn't even noticed Han Jisung leaning in, his eyes scanning the freshly written lines with a mixture of surprise and curiosity.

His gaze lingered on the page, his expression unreadable, as if he were trying to unravel the secrets hidden within the ink-stained verses. And in that moment, a rush of vulnerability washed over you, like a tide pulling you deeper into the depths of your own emotions.

You felt exposed, laid bare beneath the weight of your own words, unsure of how Han Jisung would receive the confessions woven into the fabric of your poetry. Would he understand the hidden layers of meaning, the echoes of longing that reverberated within each line?

"It's beautiful." he said, his voice soft with reverence.

As you turned your head to look at him, a sudden rush of proximity filled the space between you, your face mere inches from his. The air crackled with electricity, charged with the unspoken tension that lingered between you like a veil of anticipation.

In that fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still, suspended in the delicate balance of possibility and restraint. Your heart thundered in your chest, the rhythm of its beats echoing the unspoken desires that danced beneath the surface.

His breath brushed against your skin, warm and intoxicating, a whispered promise of what could be. And as you met his gaze, the world fell away, leaving only the two of you locked in a silent exchange of longing and uncertainty.

His deep brown eyes, soft and tender, held a universe of emotions as you slowly turned your head away, a silent retreat from the intensity of the moment. But before you could fully escape, his hand found its place on your cheek, gentle and reassuring, drawing you back to him with a magnetic pull that defied reason.

In the hushed intimacy of the space between you, his lips met yours in a tender caress, a silent confession of the longing that had lingered unspoken between you for so long. The world fell away, consumed by the heat of the moment, as the soft brush of his lips ignited a fire within your soul.

In that fleeting instant, the boundaries that had once separated you melted into oblivion, leaving only the raw vulnerability of shared desire and the promise of something deeper, something more profound than words could ever convey.

As you kissed him back, the world around you faded into insignificance, consumed by the electrifying intensity of the moment. His lips, warm and tender against yours, ignited a fire within your soul, a flame fueled by the unspoken desires and shared dreams that had bound you together.

With each fleeting touch, he drew you closer, his embrace a sanctuary against the chaos of the world. And as your lips moved in perfect harmony, a symphony of longing and devotion unfolded between you, a silent testament to the love that had blossomed in the quiet spaces between books and late-night wanderings.

In the tender pauses between kisses, Han Jisung's voice rose like a gentle melody, weaving the words of his poem into the fabric of the night, each verse a testament to the depth of his love.

"In the quiet whispers of the night," he began, his voice soft and reverent, "Beneath the stars' soft, guiding light, A love was born amidst the pages, Of books that filled our shared spaces."

As his lips brushed against yours, he continued, each word a whispered confession of devotion and longing. "In words penned by poets' hands, Our hearts found solace, made their stands, On picnic blankets, under trees, We shared our hopes, our dreams, our pleas."

With each stanza, the weight of his love washed over you like a gentle tide, pulling you deeper into the depths of his affection. "In late-night wanderings, side by side, Through shelves of books, our love did glide, A silent dance of souls entwined, In the labyrinth of the mind."

And as he spoke, you felt the echoes of your shared journey reverberate through every syllable, binding you together in an unbreakable bond forged in the fires of passion and understanding. "With every verse, a promise made, In every stanza, love conveyed, Through sonnets sweet and verses true, Our hearts found shelter, me and you."

In the quiet sanctuary of the night, Han Jisung's words became a sanctuary, a testament to the beauty of your love and the poetry that had blossomed between you. "And so, my love, in poetry's embrace, I found the home for which I chase, In every line, I see your face, A love eternal, bound by grace."

With each breath, with each kiss, the lines of his poem became etched into the very fabric of your being, a reminder of the magic that had brought you together and the promise of a future filled with endless possibility and unwavering devotion.

As Han Jisung finished his heartfelt poem, his eyes met yours with a depth of emotion that echoed the sentiments woven into his verses. Without a word, you felt a magnetic pull drawing you closer to him, your heart beating in sync with the rhythm of his love.

With a graceful movement, you shifted closer, settling into his lap, your legs on each side, creating an intimate cocoon of warmth and affection. He leaned against the side of your bed, his body molded to yours, as you leaned into him, your breath mingling in the space between you.

In the soft glow of the lamplight, time seemed to stand still as you surrendered to the tender embrace of his lips, a silent symphony of passion and desire unfolding in the quiet sanctuary of the night. His touch was a gentle caress against your skin, igniting a fire that burned with the intensity of a thousand suns.

With each kiss, the boundaries that had once separated you melted away, leaving only the raw vulnerability of two souls bound together in a dance as old as time itself. In that moment, there were no words, no need for explanations or promises—only the silent language of love spoken in the tender brush of lips and the gentle touch of hands.

As the warmth of the moment enveloped you both, you broke the kiss, your heart pounding with a mixture of emotions. With a gentle touch, you cupped Han Jisung's face in your hands, searching his eyes for the truth that lay hidden within their depths.

"I never imagined..." Your voice trailed off, the weight of your confession hanging heavy in the air. For so long, you had danced around the edges of your feelings, never daring to imagine that Han Jisung could feel the same way.

But now, as you looked into his eyes, you saw a reflection of your own longing, mirrored back in the depths of his gaze. In that moment, the walls that had once separated you crumbled to dust, leaving only the raw vulnerability of two hearts laid bare.

Han Jisung's hand found yours, his touch a silent reassurance of the love that bound you together. "I never imagined either," he admitted, his voice soft with sincerity. "But from the moment I met you, I knew there was something special between us."

As the weight of your confessions lifted from your shoulders, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips, unable to contain the joy that blossomed within your heart. With a soft giggle escaping your lips, you couldn't help but hide your face between Han Jisung's shoulder and neck, overcome by a rush of happiness and relief.

His laughter echoed yours, a symphony of shared joy that filled the room with its warmth. In that moment, the world seemed to shrink to the space between you, cocooned in the embrace of each other's laughter and the promise of a future filled with endless possibility.

In that sacred space, you lingered, savoring the sweetness of the moment as if it were the only thing that truly mattered. And as the world outside faded into obscurity, you knew that in each other's embrace, you had found a sanctuary—a haven where the fires of passion burned bright and the echoes of your love reverberated through the silent chambers of your hearts.

And so, you stayed, lost in the magic of the moment, cherishing the precious gift of each other's presence as if it were the rarest treasure in the universe. In the quiet stillness of the night, you found solace in the arms of Han Jisung, your souls intertwined in a dance as old as time itself, bound together by the unbreakable bonds of a love that had transcended all barriers to find its way home.

Who could have imagined that on the day of your seminar, you would walk hand in hand with Han Jisung, fingers intertwined in a silent declaration of unity and affection. As you entered the classroom, a sense of anticipation hung in the air, mingling with the nervous energy that crackled beneath the surface.

Together, you stood at the front of the room, your hearts beating in unison as you prepared to give your presentation. With each passing moment, the weight of the day's events bore down upon you, but you drew strength from the depth of Han Jisung's presence by your side.

As you began to speak, your words flowed like a river, carrying the essence of your shared journey into the hearts of your audience. With every slide, every carefully crafted argument, you felt the resonance of your connection woven into the fabric of your presentation, a reflection of the bond and affinity that had blossomed between you.

And as the seminar drew to a close, you looked out at the faces of your classmates, their eyes alight with curiosity and intrigue. In that moment, you realized that this was more than just an academic exercise—it was a celebration of the depth of your connection, a testament to the power of friendship, companionship, and the courage to follow your heart's truest desires.

As you and Han Jisung took your final bow, applause rang out through the room, a chorus of affirmation and support that lifted your spirits higher than you could have ever imagined. And in the midst of it all, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, hand in hand, bound by the unyielding depth of your affection and shared dreams.

As the seminar concluded, your professor stepped forward, his expression one of genuine admiration and appreciation. His voice, filled with warmth and encouragement, resonated through the room, carrying the weight of his words like a beacon of affirmation.

"I must say," he began, his tone infused with genuine admiration, "that was truly an exceptional presentation. The depth of insight, the clarity of thought—it's evident that both of you have poured your hearts and souls into this project."

His words, like a gentle embrace, enveloped you both in a sense of validation and pride. You could feel the sincerity behind his praise, a testament to the impact of your dedication and hard work.

"As educators, we often talk about the importance of passion and commitment," he continued, his eyes sparkling with genuine enthusiasm, "and today, you've exemplified those qualities in abundance. Your exploration of confessional poetry was not only insightful but also deeply moving, a testament to the power of literature to touch the human soul."

With each word, you felt a swell of gratitude and pride rise within you, a recognition of the countless hours spent pouring over texts and crafting your arguments with meticulous care.

"I have no doubt that both of you have bright futures ahead," he concluded, his voice filled with conviction. "Today's presentation is a testament to your talent, your dedication, and your unwavering commitment to excellence. Congratulations on a job well done."

As the applause filled the room once more, you exchanged a knowing glance with Han Jisung, a silent acknowledgment of the journey you had embarked upon together. And in that moment, you knew that no matter where the road may lead, you would always carry with you the lessons learned and the memories forged in the crucible of shared passion and determination.

As the day ebbed away, the pulsating energy of success gave way to an insatiable hunger, an undeniable craving that drew you and Han Jisung together with an irresistible force. You’ve found yourselves in his dorm room with the euphoria of triumph still coursing through your veins, you found yourselves entangled in a web of desire, each touch igniting a wildfire of passion that threatened to consume you whole.

In the dimly lit embrace of the night, the air crackled with anticipation, charged with the electricity of forbidden longing. With trembling hands and hungry hearts, you shed the layers of restraint, surrendering to the primal urge that pulsed beneath the surface.

His touch was electric, sending sparks dancing along your skin as you traced the contours of his body with a reverence reserved for sacred ground. With each caress, each whispered promise, you delved deeper into the labyrinth of desire, intoxicated by the heady scent of arousal that hung thick in the air.

In the heat of the moment, the boundaries between you blurred and faded, leaving only the raw vulnerability of two souls laid bare in the throes of ecstasy. With every kiss, every sigh, you surrendered to the intoxicating rhythm of passion, lost in the symphony of pleasure that echoed through the night.

In the poetry of your touch and the melodies of your moans, you discovered a language that transcended words, a silent communion of bodies entwined in a dance as old as time itself. And as the night unfurled around you like a velvet tapestry, you reveled in the knowledge that in each other's arms, you had found a home—a sanctuary where the boundaries of pleasure and pain blurred into sweet oblivion, where the mysteries of love and desire awaited exploration with every breathless whisper and trembling sigh.

#Spotify #jisung x reader #han jisung #skz jisung #stray kids jisung #skz han #han x reader #skz scenarios #skz x reader #skz #skz imagines #skz fluff #stray kids

[fbczine]

Before we open contributor applications, the mods would like to answer questions raised through responses from the Interest Check and expand upon our carrd’s guidelines/FAQ.

If you are potentially considering applying for the zine as a contributor, please take the time to look over this post and read the carrd. 

Zine’s Themes: 

For our second zine, we decided to have a centralized theme for the overall project: investigation. Solving mysteries, puzzles, and problems are key elements of Remedy games. All pieces featured within the zine will focus on these ideas. 

The Oceanview is a connecting point between the Alan Wake and Control universes. It is a place of power individuals pass through on their way to somewhere else, so it’s had many guests over the years. However, pitches for the zine do not have to feature the Oceanview, they can involve different settings featured or referenced in these games, excluding the Oldest House. 

Interest Check Feedback

During the interest check, we received several common questions we would like to address:

Can we submit pitches related to Alan Wake? 

Yes, as both Alan Wake and Control both fall under the Remedy-verse, we want the zine to have a diverse spread of content featuring characters and themes from both games. 

Are Alan Wake 2 spoilers allowed? 

The zine will release a year after the first game, so we will be allowing content featuring spoilers. All pieces with spoilers will have a warning tag in the zine’s table of contents, allowing consumers to pick and choose what content to enjoy. 

Are meta/theory-crafting pitches allowed? 

No, the zine will only be featuring fanart and fanfiction. 

What about lore related documents such as dossiers/letters/case files etc? 

Yes. As with our previous zine, in-universe documentation is welcome so long as it fits the zine’s themes and criteria. 

Can I submit something which has already been posted to social media? 

No, all contributors must submit a new, original piece of content never shared before. 

Is there any specific content which will not be allowed in the zine? 

We will not be accepting typewritten, out of context manuscript pages. If a typewritten manuscript page from Alan happens to be one part of your overall story, that’s fine. 

No pieces featuring places found within the Oldest House. As much as we love the Astral Plane, the Quarry, and the Clocks Threshold, we want the zine to feature many of the other interesting settings within this universe!

All art pieces must be polished lineart or equivalent. We will not accept sketches. 

Pitch Process 

Please do NOT submit pitches that state “I’ll draw/write anything” – these will be automatically rejected. 

Please submit three detailed pitches. Include any characters or ships featured in the piece along with the general idea. Give us the elevator pitch.  

If you’re pitching a piece featuring shipping content, please state the overall plot of the piece. The mods will not be accepting stories that do not take into account the zine’s investigative themes. 

All art pieces will need to have a background. No negative white space will be allowed. 

The mods will be trying to diversify the zine’s content through the provided pitches. Of your three pitches, the mods will select what pitch to move forward with based on the zine’s tentative content spread, so please make sure these pitches are something you are passionate about and willing to create. 

Collaboration and the Creation Process

Remedy fans are a passionate bunch. Love for these games is shown in each and every creative work. And just like Remedy collaborates to bring us these amazing games, we are looking for that same dedication for the Oceanview Guestbook zine. 

We would like each of our applicants to feel comfortable collaborating with both the mods as well as their fellow contributors. We will be encouraging contributors to share WIPs with each other through more organized check-ins to receive feedback. With each phase of the creation process, the mods will provide detailed feedback and constructive critique with each individual contributor. 

Our primary mode of communication will be through Discord. The mods will be available should contributors need any assistance, to communicate any unforeseen circumstances, or to answer questions which may arise throughout the creation process. 

Final Notes

The mods are fans of the Remedy universe and love the games. We want to talk and create with fellow fans. This project is for the community, and we can’t underscore that enough. This is why our previous and next zine are digital and free. We don’t want to hide the fanworks behind a paywall. This unofficial project is made for fans by fans as a labor of love. 

We hope you’ll join us on this journey!

– The Admin Team

#control #control 2019 #remedy control #alan wake #alan wake 2 #remedy entertainment #video game zine #zine #fanzine #fbc zine #mod post #fbc zine 2024 #fbc zine faq

[tpwbyt]

above all, euclid is a eulogy

DISCLAIMER: throughout this post, i am referring to the character of vessel, not the actual, real-life performer.

@melit0n recently made a post pointing out that in the first verse of euclid, vessel begins singing thirteen seconds in asking for "five whole minutes" and proceeds to sing for five whole minutes, as well as the fact that the songs begins and ends on the same chord, thus creating a perfect symmetry. i'd like to add on to this: now i think we all immediately understood and recognized the callbacks to the night does not belong to god (especially considering that the end of euclid acts as a reprise to it in many ways)

(taken from genius)

in chokehold it's re-instated that the way sleep is worshipped is through staying awake--in other words, sacrificing your sleep and your night. at the beginning of this journey, vessel makes it clear that no, the night does not belong to god (i.e. sleep) but rather him. his sleep belongs to him and he will not lose all of himself in this..."partnership."

(genius)

but we know all of that already. euclid isn't just a testament to vessel's acceptance of what is world now consists of, it's a eulogy for the life he once lived, and above it, the person he once was. which brings me to this: what if vessel's (the character, not the performer) name was euclid?

so let's backtrack. where does the term and name "euclid" come from? most famously, it's associated with the ancient greek mathematician known as being the father of geometry.

(taken from the wikipedia page)

now, the obvious connection between the song's title and the mathematician would be through the idea of perfect symmetry and geometry--the song makes direct callbacks to both sundowning (aka the start of the trilogy) and one (aka the 'prologue' of sorts) thus creating a perfect symmetry between the bookends. the song even references symmetry:

(genius)

(that's not even considering the newfound meaning of "the night" between the night does not belong to god and euclid, but maybe that's a post for another day.)

but suspend your disbelief for a second and consider the slightly out of the box interpretation: symmetry doesn't necessarily always mean the story ends the same way it begins, but rather that the phrases, images, and motifs we were introduced to in the beginning now take on a different meaning because of the journey. vessel is introduced to the listener at the beginning of the story as sleep's vessel, and not much more. we know very little about the character's life beforehand--the life he lived, his work, his name, etc. and at the very end, his identity becomes acting as sleep's vessel. so, in the spirit of symmetry, why not call back to the one thing we don't know about the character?

his name.

further in the wikipedia page for "euclid," it defines the name's meaning.

(wikipedia)

the idea that your name decides your destiny is far from abstract, it's something that exists in a myriad of cultures. to be named "glorious" and "renowned" and then proceed to spend the rest of your existence acting as an ancient deity's mouthpiece is so ironically cruel it's almost perfect.

sure, "euclid" as a name is a little strange and out of the box, but has sleep token ever been afraid of doing something a little strange? again, this is just a little headcanon that i've been brewing for a while, not necessarily the sole reason where the song gets its title.

#sleep token #nine analyzes #take me back to eden #tmbte #sleep token headcanons #sleep token vessel #sleep token ii #sleep token iii #sleep token iv #vessel #ii #iii #iv #nine.txt

[transbutchbluess]

hello locked tomb fandom !

please tell me what you would like to see in the document i mentioned a few days ago, where i try to make an analysis of TLT and to write down every relevant information in the same document, to make it easier to create theories. for now i have written +20 pages, and my list of things to put in it is this :

• information about each House (planet, Lyctor, names, other thoughts).

• John + Alecto + the Lyctors (name meanings, main informations, pre-Res,…)

• a small analysis of the poem Annabel Lee by Edgar A Poe and all its parallels to John/Alecto

• House characters on which I have something to say (mostly about name meanings, from the name guides but also from my own brain + theories i’ve seen)

• BOE characters (name meanings and/or theories) + Blood of Eden itself

• Resurrection Beasts (status, appearance, which planet they might be)

• the River + the Tower + Hell/Beyond the River (layers of the River, stoma, whose souls are in Hell, what Hell is, the Tower ciphers, thoughts about the Tower and the devils)

• informations we have on all different variations of Lyctorhood (perfect lyctorhood, regular lyctorhood, imperfect lyctorhood with Gideon/Pyrrha and Harrow/Gideon, Grand Lysis) + other thoughts/comments on Lyctorhood

• comments on every chapter of GtN, HtN and NtN, with a color code to note on which re-read / after which books we can notice the meaning of a quote. not a summary of the chapters, i’m mostly re-writing all the annotations i put in my copies. this is probably what will take me the longest, i’m doing it for GtN right now and it’s exhausting

• for each chapter, which skull is represented.

• for each John chapter in NtN, the bible verse (+ the bible verse in the ARC)

(for some of these things i use posts made by users here, and if i still have the source i put it in the doc)

please tell me if you have any other ideas ! my hyperfixation is hyperfixating, i just think about TLT all the time

#tlt theories #tlt meta #tlt analysis #tlt #tlt names #alecto tlt #tlt series #nona tlt #resurrection beasts #the locked tomb analysis #the locked tomb #the locked tomb theories #gtn #htn #ntn #ntn theories #atn theories #alecto theories #alecto the ninth #harrow the ninth #nona the ninth

[skeith-platinumprincess]

Today I would like to go over the history of an alternate universe Spider-Man who was created solely to be a gag character but in recent years has been getting actual serious attention. I am of course referring to:

Patrick O'Hara, the Web-Slinger.

The Web-Slinger first debuted in the very original Spider-Verse event but don't go into this expecting to read much of him. Unlike other popular Spider characters like Spider-Gwen and Peni Parker he didn't get his own issue to tell you his origin or anything like that. No, he was instead part of the book's gag team.

Throughout the original Spider-Verse event we would occasionally get to check in on Miles Morales and Drake Bell Ultimate Spider-Man recruiting the goofier spider-people across the multiverse. We even got a full issue of them recruiting the 1967 cartoon Spider-Man! At one point in this requirement spree we check in on them and see that at some point they recruited a cowboy Spider-Man

That's basically it for Web-Slinger's role in the original Spider-Verse. No name, no actual lines other than Yehaaaw, and after this point he's just in a few background panels.

Someone at Marvel must have really liked this idea though as he made more appearances in later Spider-Verse events. Such as in Spider-Geddon where he gets to be alongside Superior Spider-Man, Spiders-Man, and Spider-Punk as a team of Spider-Men who are willing to kill people

Spider-Geddon also gave us Vault of Spiders, a collection of short stories set in the universes of various Spider-People. Here we got a 7 page story showcasing Web-Slinger in his own world fighting against his version of Morbius. This little story also gave confirmation that yes, he shoots webs from his guns. They are literal web shooters

Next up we have what it easily Web-Slinger's biggest apperance: the 2019 Spider-verse event. In this comic Miles Morales has to jump from universe to universe helping various spider-people fight crime. It's a fun little book even if it doesn't serve much purpose. I'd love if they brought the concept back for some sort of Spider-Verse Team Up.

Anyway, the fourth issue of this book has Miles travel to Web-Slinger's universe, now officially numbered as Earth-31913, to help him save a Mexican village being raided by El Escorpion.

Basically everything we know about Web-Slinger comes from this issue since it's the only time he has really gotten to shine. So here are a few details we learn about him here.

His version of Uncle Ben was not his uncle, but rather a war buddy of his. I cannot tell if it was the Civil War or the American-Mexican war though

Yes, his horse, named Widow, WAS bit by a radioactive spider, the same spider bit both of them which gives them a telepathic link to each other. They call it the Rider Sense

His name is Patrick O'Hara, in previous appearances he used the name Parker, but that was in fact a fake name. He only tells Miles this because he trusts him

That wasn't the last we saw of Webslinger though, we actually got to see him and his earth again earlier this year in Extreme Venomverse. Usually the Venomverse stories will either take place in a earth that is only slightly different from Earth-616 or they'll be in their own world with no connection to anything. As far as I can tell the only times a Venomverse story have set themselves in the universe of an already established alternate Spider-Man were Venom Noir from this month and last month with Extreme Venomverse #3

After passing out from wounds in the desert, Web-Slinger finds himself nursed back to health by a woman named Madame Brock. To repay the favor he helps Ms. Brock fight off a pack of goons who are threatening to burn down her place of business.

And that is the Web-Slinger's most recent appearance in the medium of comics. However he has seemingly gotten popular enough to start appearing in other mediums. He got to team up with Drake Bell Ultimate Spider-Man once again when that cartoon did a Spider-Verse storyline AND he got to appear briefly in Across the Spider-Verse, Miles even steals Widow from him here!

#comic books #comics #marvel #spiderman across the spiderverse #spider verse #web slinger #Patrick O'Hara #Skeith Explains Spiders

[despairforme]

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!

[ Oh man this post got long (and surprisingly serious) fjfjfjffjjf I wrote this 2 days ahead of time because I was so excited about it ahahaha --- I'm wishing you all a wonderful 2024!!!!!

2023 was a year of surprising development for me. I don't know if it's because I'm getting older, or if I'm simply moving into a different mindset. I loved this year! It was awesome, and I'm so happy to see that I've written MORE for Nnoitra this year than I did in 2022 ( even though my overall word-count went down from 290 000 to 280 000 ). I can't say I completed many of my goals ( or any of them LOL ). I had lots of goals for 2023, but I was unable to complete them. The past few months, especially, have brought forth big changes in my creative flow and focus.

I've realized that I need to change my priorities, to better fit my new mindset.

Roleplaying is no longer going to be my main focus. In the past, whenever I've wanted to write, I've always focused on finishing drafts, asks ect. I've mostly written on here, since that's what I prefer. Or, rather - what I used to prefer. This is not to say I don't have muse for Nnoitra, because I always feel inspired for him. What's changed are my priorities. I've come to the conclusion that what's important to me is creating stories. Since Nnoitra's story ( main verse ) has become so stagnant, it feels less important to me. I know I can drive the story on, push it forward and thus find it important once more, but - I don't want to do that. I want to create my own, original stories instead. Becoming a professional writer has always been my dream, and that's simply not possible to do when I'm prioritizing rping. Roleplaying is going to have to take the backseat.

--- That being said, I'm absolutely not quitting! I can't imagine myself not writing for Nnoitra, so I'll be writing on here like before, and I'll even try to be more consistent. An enemy of mine in 2023 has been procrastination. One of my goals for 2024 is to conquer this, so that I can be more efficient with my time. I think that by dedicating less time to roleplay, I'll be more efficient when I do sit down and write for my muses. My activity the past few months have been spotty, so I'd love to get into a better flow.

2024 GOALS:

FOCUS ON PERSONAL PROJECTS. I have a lot of them. Two (three?) book projects, two long OC-centered fanfictions.

WRITE FANDOM PROJECTS. I have a lot of ideas for fanfictions, and I want to make the time to write them. Some are long, some are short. Getting feedback on my stories has always been a great feeling, and fanfiction is the best way to get that serotonin.

CHANGE MY WRITING HABITS. My habits are bad. They lead to a ton of procrastination and wasted time. I want to be more structured when it comes to my writing time (and my time in general, but especially my writing time). I want to stick to schedules, word-count goals, page goals ect. Conquering procrastination is going to be key.

CONSISTENT RP POSTING. Even though I won't be focusing on roleplaying, I still intend to do it regularly and get replies and asks out in a more timely manner. I'll probably set off some time in the evening to get replies done, and have some fun on the dash when others are online. I'll try to be consistent across my blogs, not just on Nnoitra.

CREATE THINGS THAT ARE PHYSICAL. I've come to realize that I love things that translate to the real world. Not just words on a screen, or a digital artwork, but things that you can touch. It's why I've absolutely fallen in love with watercolor painting. I'm going to try to print some of my writing work so that I have physical copies. I'm also going to print my art so that I can hold it in real life.

FIND A SHIP FOR NNOITRA. It's been so long since I wrote a ship for him, and I need it back in my life. I've been looking for a ship for him the whole time, but I need to put more effort in, and let him interact with more characters, as well as continue to develop the relationships he does have ( in case one of them turns romantic? ). I'd love for 2024 to be the year Nnoitra falls in love again.

I am SUPER excited for 2024! I love new years and fresh starts, and I feel so incredibly inspired by the changes in my mindset. I feel like I've been stuck for a good while with rping. Don't get me wrong, I've loved every second of it, and I've learnt so much about writing - and met the most amazing people. It's just that it's time for a change. Time for me to create other kinds of stories. I thought that things were aligned for me to write books last year, but I really didn't have the right mindset - but now I do! I'm hyped!! Hope you're ALL going to have the most amazing 2024 guys!! ]

#[ was gonna post this yesterday at midnight but ahahaha i was busy ] #[ watched wonderful fireworks with my s/o and then we watched haikyuu u v u ] #[ also i hope you're not alarmed by this post xDD not much will change when it comes to my writing on here ] #[ actually i think with more structured writing sessions i'll end up more active 8) ] #[ WISH YOU ALL THE BEST !! HAPPY NEW YEAR !!! ] #toby post. ╱ out of character. #longpost //

[squishysoftmonsters]

🌺Hot For Teacher🌺

Read Next [Only a Dream Class]

Imagine you the nerdiest student of a high esteemed college. The said geek and loner with glasses that warranted hi and goodbye. It was difficult being a trans student also. But,the professor of your class took delight in you regardless. He'd stop and chat,and even offer to take you to lunch.

Happy someone noticed you,you longed to get to know your professor better. Even the sound of his name made you swoon when he introduced himself to you in a personal way. His name was Beleth Alexandersson. You frequented the library and he took note of it,tracing your fingers as you turned the pages to the biggest of calculus books. He made it an opportunity to get a touch when you dropped something..as it was pretty normal for your teacher to lend a hand,but he didn't hover over you too much as it would become noticeable,obvious and weird.

Rumors circled that the calculus professor was a forest dryad. His alluring scent and unique features would make every gender student fall madly in love with him. Of course in a simple word,perfect. It was off-putting that a male dryad would have the name Beleth,a name associated with demonic creatures..not faeries!

Smooth with his words and actions it was hard to turn away. Hard to not offer yourself up to such a figure of sheer majesty.

You : [blushes] Professor!

Adjusting his glasses while grading multiple papers,he stopped,and gazed upwards at the sound of his college given title. You felt yourself flush as his pale eyes met yours. Hot for Teacher was literal,as you fell hard for the professor.

Beleth : [soft chuckle] Here before all the others. Wanted to catch me by myself? [chortles] I'm joking with you,easy.

The sound of his voice made your heart race and your knees weak. Unknowingly you ached there as he spoke. His presence was heavenly and there was no denying that. It worsened further as he approached. Pinching his tongue in his teeth,Beleth gently put a hand to your chin, and looked deeply into your eyes. Being touched or kissed by a man taller than you was every teenage girl's wet dream.

Beleth : Have a seat..Let me give you reassurance..We're both well in the same age range. There's no big difference..so no need to be scared of me.

That wasn't true..the dryad was thousands of years old,in the form of a heart throb for a likeable late teens professor. He was comfortable in his skin and blended well with society as a human. He was highly versed about the ways of humans,culture and customs,also their quest to attain mass knowledge.

He returned to his desk,resting his glasses on the mountain of graded papers to toy with his paper airplane. You giggled at the childish sounds he made with the airplane he had folded up and created out of the puzzle section of the morning paper.

You couldn't focus on your studies,eyeing Beleth every time he looked away,or glossed over what he had planned to lecture and teach. His curved ears perked,hearing your nervous gulps even though you were so far away and high up in the auditorium. Such lovely shaped ears were well hidden by his hair.

Suddenly the groaning and screaming of students began pooling into the auditorium. A smile seemed to form on his face,as he put down his newspaper airplane and put his glasses on.

Beleth : [soft smile]If you want to survive in a tech driven world..I hate to break it to you, You will eventually need this stuff later on. I admit,there's always a subject you're gonna hate. But let's be real here. You're not going to seriously scroll through your phone during an important lecture or an interview for the job you're trying to score,and hold the whole thing up to find the said answers required to look good or fit the bill. Wouldn't you want to present yourself as a self reliant and knowledgeable individual?Pretty sure I'm right,judging by your faces.

These atrocities no one cares about..angles mixed with numbers and letters..They look silly and useless,right? Trust me,you will need them in some situation. ALL of the stuff you learn will play some role in shaping and defining your future. Nothing you gain in life is wasted.

Every decision will matter. Even though you don't care,it's always best to have it up here. Hearing my lips flap for an hour or two each day will come handy..Believe me.

Beleth gestured at his head.

A lot of the girls were whispering and giggling at how handsome their professor was,and he heard it,pinning his ears back,to reduce sounds. Groans,moans,questionable hmms and angry verbiage from the other students followed suit. If you're a forest creature with fantasy ears,you're going to hear everything! Beleth did pick up on some very offensive words towards you..but kept focus..and would bring it up after class.

The said lecture continued for a good,long while,you melting in a fantasy with your beloved professor more than paying attention you snapped to reality looking like a fool,as the chairs quickly emptied,leaving you by yourself. Everyone hollered as they grabbed up their graded papers,bidding their farewells and onto the next class. You came down the stairs to receive your graded paper,usual was an A without a problem.

Beleth : [clears throat] It's appropriate to pay attention. But I'll pardon you this time.

You : [nervously] I was..[weak laugh]

You looked away nervously,but he gently turned your head back towards his line of sight,lifting your chin with his finger,ever so tenderly. Those beautiful pale eyes cleaved into your soul once they met with yours.

Beleth : Aside your blatant fantasizing about me...What went on up there with those girls to the right of you? Not the squealing ones on your left.

You : They always pick on me religiously,but I don't care..

He started to speak in a low tone.

Beleth : If it involves what you are,not to flirt with you..but you are quite the looker to me..no one should question that.[normal tone]Aside this,You said you were paying attention..

You : [nods excitedly] I was..honest.

He raised a brow and crossed his arms.

Beleth : Let's see if your claim holds weight...Give me a small speech of what I lectured about..Keep it at a few words.

Your mouth was gaped,eyes darting back and forth,thinking as to what he lectured about,and you remained wordless. He gently closed your mouth.

Beleth : My thoughts exactly.

He took off his glasses and placed them on the desk.

You : You're not angry at me are you,Beleth?

You cupped your hands over your mouth and your eyes glittered. Heartbeat rising, becoming a bundle of nerves,calling the professor out of his title,You swore you were done. A soft smirk crossed his lips,as to the way you said his first name. It was always Professor Alexandersson or simply the cutest and most affectionate "Teach". No one had such a privilege to call him by his first name,only his wife and other relatives.

You : [tearfully gasping] I didn't mean to..[stammering] I'm so very sorry Professor Alexandersson...[gulping hard] I...

Beleth : [softly] Shhhh....

His finger so soft upon your lips as tears streamed down your face. You never meant to call the dearest teacher by his name. He was hardly upset,because he did introduce himself to you on a personal level earlier on. His eyes locked onto yours.

Beleth : Just be careful next time...

In regards of mockery towards you such as "Teacher's Pet"..He gave you advice..As no student has that right,but you who he favored. You nodded with a sniffle as he dabbed away your tears with a tissue.

This stemmed from a RP with a close friend and I. A human falling for a dryad was common,but it did make cute for a pairing and a romance. The naughties will come soon!

The RP was dubbed Hot For Teacher. I think I'm gonna run with this 🍎

#monster fucker #fae fucker #squishylovers #monster fluff #transfem #transgender #trans mtf #forest dryad #monster romance