#Forms and Controlled Components

[cipheramnesia]

The reason I probably shouldn't be allowed to make movies is I have no impulse control and I would immediately make something called Revenge Of The Dead Tranny Hooker. It would be about a trans woman trying to break into acting, but no one wants to hire her for anything except playing a sex worker who gets murdered. Then one day she does an open casting call which runs her through a series of increasingly bizarre line readings, which it turns out are meant to summon an eldritch demon to grant the movie producer god-like powers.

The culmination is supposed to be sex on the casting couch, but she ditches at the last minute, destroying the ritual and splintering the extradimensional entity across California. She unknowingly receives powerful extradimensional blood, while the rest of the fragments seek out the powerful and violent people of the world. Meanwhile the movie producer uses his new powers to transform his PAs into henchcreatures, and sends them after the protag to finish her off. She discovers her new powers in the ensuing fight, which also seem to be gradually altering her body every time she uses them.

The rest of the movie is a steadily escalating game of cat and mouse between trans woman and movie producer. While the former transformers the fragments into powerful psychic weapons like chainsaws and spiked bats, the later uses fragments to make himself bigger and physically stronger. At first the fights are short and brutal, the protag outmatched and outgunned, but she gets more confident to the point of an anarchic battle of against the LAPD led by a demonic police captain, including a scene where she stands on the roof of a speeding police car and rips the driver through the windshield.

Her eventual form is some kind hyper sexual draconic mantid squid rippling with biomechanoid components. In the fight with the producer he thinks he's winning by tearing apart the last of her human flesh, but this just complete her transformation, letting her easily overwhelm him. It's implied from that point forward she plans to conquer the world.

[thalwri]

NOBLE ARRANGEMENT

synopsis: with a marriage you didn't want and a terrible first impression, you weren't too sure your life with sylus would be peaceful. but what if there was a little nerve loosening component that could help?

warnings: porn with plot, smut, arranged marriage, use of aphrodisiacs, inappropriate use of evol (if you squint), mutual masturbation, oral sex over and lowkey under a table (m! and f! receiving), biting, floor sex, creampie, petnames

wc: 11,6k

a/n: I was rewatching dune prophecy (for the third time) and I felt a little creative. hope you enjoy!

you were a lady. 

or so you were raised to be. having been brought up in the high society of the city of linkon, you knew your social purpose amongst others and you also knew you had to make a place for yourself beyond being a delectable, innocent, and poised young woman brandished for the wealthy to negotiate through joining families. you had to be a hunter; an unapproachable entity that was most desired yet most difficult to obtain.

behave appropriately, act well amongst your peers, and also know how to defend yourself against the crude wanderers that lurked within the shadows. it had been made law that every citizen was forbidden from traveling around in the dark of night due to the unsafe nature of the environment. but you were never truly one to follow the rules among others.

that is, until you found yourself fighting for your life against the very creatures the law was created for you to avoid.

your given abilities were useful for you to defend yourself but they were more impactful when partnered with another– a privilege you currently did not have. your attire, bedazzled in jewels and badges representing your awards for the late soiree you had just left, was torn and stained with your own blood and the dirt of the ground. 

you had considered that night to be your final celebration of your freedom. though you didn’t really anticipate being attacked by wanderers to be on the palate for your night. your blunting blade in hand trembled as your arms suffered from tremors of stress, pain and exhaustion. 

your breathing was ragged and your body ached. had you worn your riding attire, perhaps the battle would have fared more in your favour. you had effectively destroyed more than seven lurking wanderers, the following were stronger and larger than the last. morale was reaching a low, and your energy was not enough to sustain yet another battle without you collapsing.

though if your corpse was to be found, you would wish it was in good condition and not ruffled, so you straightened your form and held your blade as stiffly as you could force your body to. you would not lose your life piously or aimlessly. you were raised to hold a blade like a warrior adorned with her femininity, and you would die as such. after all, a death by the blade would always be better than a marriage to a man orchestrated by your stepfather. 

a foreign man, you had heard from his private meetings. a foreigner with a questionable background, having travelled multiple worlds and fought endless battles. the more he conquered, the higher the bounty on his head. the imperial council, from what the gossipers have whispered across the entirety of linkon, has done little to none to control the “beast” or the “relentless conquerer”. though from what you’ve heard their lenience was also due to him allegedly being of noble rank. he ran amok, with his blood red eyes, and hair as white as a ghost’s chilling grasp.

his iron fist ran a vast network of crows, all known in union as onychinus. like a marbled table spreading its onyx darkness across the known universe, onychinus stretched its arms into every known and potentially unknown world marking its territory and ensuring its name was remembered. ensuring the name sylus was unforgotten.

the same sylus you were doomed to marry. 

you didn’t know which god to pray to for your last battle, not that you were religious to begin with. but it was customary for anyone who held their last blade to send a prayer if they believed they near taking their final breath. so you briefly muttered your gratitudes, your repentances, and your pleas to them all hoping at least one would listen.

the heavy thumps of the wanderer drew painfully near. you solemnly opened your eyes, readjusting your grip and preparing your body to strike. your lips move rapidly as you repeat your words in a broken mantra.

“the blade pierces fear, the blade pierces fear.”

the caws of a crow disrupted your mental flow, distracting you momentarily. in an instant, a gust of darkness rushed past you with a shadow of darkness tinted with red following. the wanderer was blown back by the blunt impact of the shadow, then again. and again. until its arm was separated from its body, then one of its legs, making it topple over. 

a flash of darkness rushed past you, assaulting the wanderer in crude blows, a double light trail of red following its movements and soft, white tufts flowing with the wind as the scent of spice flowed into your nostrils. perhaps an energy-based evol? with red eyes and what seemed like white hair– it couldn’t be. no way in hell could it be.

you quickly stumbled back, hearing the crow’s noise grow louder until a loud crackle of energy and a heavy screech silenced the night. the wanderer was obliterated. literally blown into energetic dust as if erased from existence– or rather transformed and reduced to the crystal core before you.

you remembered your father– your biological father– teaching you about protocores, but you had never seen one until now. you reached for it with a shaky, bloody hand, tempted to feel that peculiar thing you’ve always wondered about but a large hand beat you to it, crushing the core to dust with the same energetic shadow. 

“best not touch what you don’t understand,” the deep voice sent chills down your spine. you blinked, whipping your head towards the source only to find a gust of falling black feathers in the air. you caught one before the rest blew far from your reach, carefully storing it on your person. a small souvenir wouldn’t hurt especially after the one you wanted was destroyed.

“what i don’t understand?” you scoffed. “says the douche bag that broke the protocore and disappeared!” 

you felt like the air got kicked out of your lungs. you deeply exhaled and leaned against the wall of a modiste. it must have been an hour since you left that soiree. your best option would be to sneak into the manor to avoid getting a telling to from your stepfather. but if he did perhaps your mother wouldn’t have to deal with him, especially in her current state.

you pushed yourself to your feet and began to walk back where you came from. you had intended to take a small walk before you returned to your estate on horseback. if you had taken the motorcycle, someone would have noticed. it wasn’t your first time sneaking out after the curfew. 

there was a quick route through the crowd of stumbling drunks that also completed their night of drinking and possible fornication, not considering the risk of being both drunk and open to the sharp claws of the nearby wanderers. it was almost like those creatures were attracted to foolishness– though to be fair, you were recently attacked.

you eventually found your horse impatiently waiting for you with a very timid and very pissed off valet. 

“i work with keeping cars safe, my lady,” he hissed, roughly handing the reins to you. “cars. not rude horses!”

“perhaps you should have been nicer,” you muttered, fumbling through the holographic screen of your watch. a high pitched ring sounded and echoed onto his wrist. “payment for your hard work, good sir.”

the valet’s mood quickly rose as he fully digested the price paid for his ‘service fee’. he grinned and quickly bowed to you continuously, thanking you for your generosity and asking for you to return with your horse again.

you smiled to yourself as you settled on the saddle, and patted your horse to start moving. the valet was still singing praises to you as the distance between the two of you grew increasingly larger. 

“like i’d ever let him touch you again, my sweet.” you crooned, stroking the mane of your horse. you checked the time and hissed in worry. it was the middle of the night and your stepfather would soon be waking up to plot and ponder in his study like he always did. 

“hyah!” your horse’s calming trot gradually transitioned into a sprint, carrying you through the late night towards your family home. you’d be there in minutes if you maintained your speed. throughout your travels you couldn’t shake off a weird feeling from your shoulders. as far from the central city as you were, you still felt like you were being watched.

one of the few interesting concepts of these ‘arranged’ marriages was that neither of partners in the wedded couple were allowed to see each other until the day of the wedding. and even those weren’t subtle. 

huge celebrations would be held to celebrate unions and from the rumours you’ve heard along with what you’ve seen, the bride and groom would have already met one another at least a month prior at some party or another event where it would be difficult to track who comes in and when.

your case was slightly more discouraging, considering you only knew of the tales laced with potential deceit and fear regarding your husband-to-be. no secret rendezvous, no hidden in plain sight meetups like all the others blabbered on about. you were going to experience the real deal of having your hand and choice in who you marry signed off by a man who wasn’t even your biological father.

and that fury was why you threw a glass of juice at him during your adornment fittings. your wedding dress was far from simple. it was adorned with precious jewels around the neckline and embroidered on your back in the shape of your family’s crest. it was more than transparent that your wedding was considered big if your stepfather was going through the expenses of ensuring your dress was extravagant, inviting multiple politically influential figures, and trying to trap you within the estate until this very day.

it was to ‘maintain your purity’, according to him. though, that was no longer a claim you owned. not since your twentieth birthday. and that was five years ago.

and that doesn’t include the other outrageous comments and demands he made. one of them– and definitely not limited to that– involved him wanting you to give him grandchildren. grandchildren. as if he would have the privilege to ever see them!

he could fuck off and get his grandchildren from the bastard kids he’d abandoned for all you cared.

“you insolent wretch–��� the old man’s hands balled into fists as he slowly rose to his feet. the maids standing on either side of the dining room shifted to the sides of the door to give you passage to run in case he got violent.

“oh, are you going to banish me?” you bitterly chuckled, not minding his impeding anger radiating towards you. you cut through your croissant and relished in every bite as if it were the most important thing in the world. “do remember my mother and i are both more than capable of handling ourselves without you.”

you absentmindedly listened to him draw a deep, heavy breath before sighing and returning to his seat. “your mother is ill.”

the fork and knife in your hands dropped onto the plate, clattering around the room’s silence like the resonating waves of a bullet firing into an empty field. your gaze slowly flickered to him. 

“and you aren’t getting any younger.” he scoffed, looking you up and down as if you weren’t known as one of the most beautiful women in high society. “you must serve your purpose to this family–“

“i believe you meant serve your personal interests.” you cut, with venom laced in your voice. 

“he means in the interest of this family and you.” a frail voice pulled you out of your angered state and dragged into momentary shock.

your mother, frail and thin, stood at the entrance to your dressing room leaning over on her walking stick. the maid beside her stood like a cowering puppy that had been swatted away. even in her state of weakness, your mother still stood strong– one of the many qualities you inherited from her. her perseverance. 

“mother,” you began, slowly rolling your next words over your tongue. “there has to be another way. we are influential and financially affluent enough to handle ourselves–“

“not enough to handle the imperial court.” your mother sighed as she slowly reached you. she raised her eyes to up to you, your form elevated by the pedestal and illuminated by the lights above you. in her eyes it seemed as though she had birthed an angel. 

“so beautiful, dear child,” she smiled softly, running her hand up the waistline of your dress until her cold slender fingers held your cheek. “your father would have loved to see you in this. he used to fantasise about walking you down the aisle.”

“he’s not here anymore,” you whispered with cracks of grief slipping through your hardened tone. or was it hatred? hatred for the fact that he left you so young, or that his best friend married your mother almost weeks after? “and he doesn’t deserve to get that chance.” without looking, she knew who you meant.

your mother’s lips quivered into a straight line. she stepped back as her hand cold on your face fell to her side. “best you get your makeup done. you have the audience of the imperial court, the people of linkon, onychinus and that n109 zone. you must represent us well.”

to hear that struck you like an iron bullet. almost as painful as it would have been had you been killed last night. you were starting to wonder if you should have laid your blade to the ground. if being consumed and destroyed by a wanderer was better than giving up your hand to an intergalactic criminal.

“you will not walk by my arm.” you hissed to your stepfather. “i’d rather dig up my father’s corpse than let you get that chance.” you hiked up your gown and stormed off into the adjacent room where the stylists had prepared the makeup for you.

the rest of the process was quiet. the stylists whispered their condolences to you, mentioning tips to help you survive should your life be threatened, some others suggesting your husband-to-be may not be as cruel as rumour says. 

your fears were etched into your face so much so that not even the prospect of being away from your family could console it. 

the stylists had dispersed for your family priestess to bless your body. the back of your wedding gown was deliberately left open for your family crest to be inscribed onto your skin temporarily. it was an olden tradition that dated back to the ages where evols had not become more common amongst humans and the sole equivalent was sorcery. 

some of the wealthier families stemmed from old sorcerers and practitioners of ancestral magic, protecting themselves through their family crests and watchwords. talismans, charms, sigils, spells, runes, the titles would vary amongst cultures but their meaning remained the same. 

protection. strength. power. a call to war. they would be granted regardless of the method.

the needle was hot on your flesh and the scent of your skin burning made of your body twitch in discomfort. the priestess, adorned in her traditional garb designed to cover her entire body, tutted at you.

“remain still.” she dragged the hot needle down your spine, finalising the process of your marking. “it will fade in a few hours. but the magic stay intact for as long as you allow it.”

you slowly stretched, feeling the stiffening pain growing on you. you swallowed the reel of profanities threatening to roll of your tongue as you turned to the priestess who was packing away her supplies.

“you were trained to fight wanderers, and honour our family like your predecessors. my predecessors.” you rushed to her and tightly held her hands. your options were slipping out of your hand like sand, making you more desperate than before. “cousin, i know of the faction that trained you– that hunters association. and you know i’m more than capable to be within your rank. take me with you.”

you could almost hear her smiling in pity. she pulled her hands away and slowly stepped back. “my destiny is tied to my position. yours is much different and much more broad.” as she turned her back to you, she placed a small coin on the dressing table. “you will do far better once you marry the dragon concealed as a crow. best of luck, little cousin.”

and alone you remained to float within your thoughts. your destiny was broader than hers? the only thing you could envision was the potential torture you’d go through once the ties were sealed. there was not much left for you to do.

the burning sting of the crest carved onto your back had run cold, a searing tingle burst through your back like gentle sparks indicating the talisman was now active. and always would be.

the bells snapped you out of your daze, ringing away the last of your freedom– or perhaps the last of your captivity. your mother and stepfather walked you to event hall of your mansion, where everyone awaited you. your mother gently kissed your forehead, whispering you luck and reminding you to maintain composure.

the large double doors swung open and melodic music silenced the crowd before you. row by row, they all rose to their feet acknowledging you more than your family behind you. perhaps it was the dress, or that you possibly held the expression of wanting to run. the last person to turn around met your gaze with his crimson eyes.

sylus.

the very sylus, leader of onychinus, fearsome conqueror of planets, was dressed in a fitted white suit stricken with embroidered red crows. a small brooch was pinned on his blazer, the ruby in the centre sparkled under the light. his eyes scanned you briefly before he adjusted his stance, silently reminding you to walk. 

you deeply inhaled and stepped forward, deliberately moving as slowly as you could to scan each present guest in the hall. dignitaries from neighbouring planets, a large group of guests dressed in red and black including some wearing masks, distant family members and friends amongst the people of linkon, and most surprisingly four counsellors of the imperial court. you had expected less.

whispers broke out behind you as the insignia etched onto your back was clearly visible. you slowly realised that it wasn’t just a protection charm for you. you carried the burning torch telling your family’s enemies to remain in their place, that you were no longer weaker than them. you decided to assign it as a call to war against your own parents– cursing them for sending you off like this.

that would explain the secret meetings over the last few months. your marriage was a deal to grant your family protection. and judging by the satisfied look on one of the imperial counsellor’s face, they also had a chip in the transaction. control? access to weapons and intel? 

but there was nothing that caught your attention more than the man standing patiently before you. for someone so menacing, he looked divine. god-sculpted face and damningly soft lips. his white hair looked as soft as a kitten’s fur. he was so tall and muscular. so beautiful too. you almost released your tension just from the sight of him. 

he reached his hand out to help you step onto the pedestal to join him and the officiator. as you stood next to him, while feeling underwhelmingly short despite wearing heels, you caught a whiff of his scent. it was a bit too familiar, almost like burnt herbs and spices.

the officiator droned on about the beauties and responsibilities that came with marriage and how the union would connect our societies more than ever. you watched him glance to your left around the same area where your parents and the imperial counsellors sat. so he was in on the stunt too. maybe not a direct beneficiary, but all rivers end up in the ocean one way or another.

“you’re observant,” the rumbles of his voice sent shivers down your spine. another thing about him that was all too familiar. “good.”

you did not respond to his comment. a young girl skipped towards the two of you, cautiously holding a white cushion holding two rings; both encrusted with rubies and diamonds but one had a larger gem in the centre. 

sylus picked the ring with the larger diamond and turned to you. he recited his vows to you, swearing his loyalty and endless care for you, among the many traditional vows a husband would make to his wife. his crimson eyes held firm on yours with a serious stare, meaning every single world– though that was the first time you met.

“you look rather calm to be marrying the douchebag that broke your protocore,” he muttered as his fingers caressed your hand before slipping the encrusted ring on you. the realisation slowly dawned upon you like the rising sun shining directly in your face. “don’t gawk, you’ll make a spectacle.”

you quickly relaxed and took his ring from the bearer to exchange the gesture. “so it was you last night.” 

his hand was large and yet well cared for and almost scarless despite his endless battles. you recited your vows, similar to his and returned his gesture, though you couldn’t guarantee that you wouldn’t try to kill him in his sleep. if he did sleep. you slipping the ring onto his finger with more cruelty than intended, inducing a pained smirk from his lips.

“definitely a douchebag.”

the officiator, after another round of praises and ramblings of loyalty and union, asked if anyone opposed the union. you had hoped someone, anyone would say something. but the silence was clear and loud. you raised your head high, concealing the slither of disappointment– no, fury brewing within you.

“then through the powers bestowed upon me, i pronounce thee husband and wife. you may seal the union.”

you could feel your heart sink. you had to kiss him. kiss a renown intergalactic criminal, kiss those soft lips, kiss yourself into a marriage you likely wouldn’t leave by choice. those soft pink lips–

he was smirking at you. smirking! as if he read your mind– can he?

his hands, warm and gentle, cupped your cheeks as he leaned towards you.

“may i?” your words were held in your throat from the shock, making you to nod. 

he closed the gap between you and the world temporarily fell silent. his lips were really soft. like, plump and so cushiony. he was gentle with the kiss, almost like you were his lifelong lover whom he relished, and kept it brief but long enough to illicit excited giggles from the young girls within the crowd. as you leaned away, your audience burst into a round of applause, standing to congratulate the sealing of your marriage. the finalisation of a deal made behind the curtains.

it didn’t feel like sparks bursting, not that you expected it to, but it felt surprisingly warm. homely and comfortable. like it was just you and him that mattered. which was a weird feeling. but you didn’t dislike it.

and in the deafening round of applause, in celebration, relief, envy, and pity, your eyes did not leave your stepfather’s. your mind did not leave the thought of screaming until your lungs shrivelled, as if your body wanted to do it itself.

it did not leave the desire to claw the life out of his throat.

“i can kill them all if you’d like,” sylus whispered, glancing down at you as you left the hall to enter another for the reception. 

“excuse me?” 

“you look unhappy,” he adjusted his tie, giving you a clearer view of his hands. the same hands that took down the wanderer last night. those veiny, strong hands– “about your current… position. so we can kill them all now, obviously excluding the children, then annul the marriage. would you like that?”

“wait, wait,” you paused in your steps. he just offered to murder every guest present then annul your marriage. he was giving you an open door to living your own life. but why? “isn’t this what you wanted? this marriage?”

“it was a necessary agreement,” he slowly spoke, carefully choosing his words. “there were many other ways to conduct a deal with your parents and the imperial court but those would have required more precision and time to handle. however, forcing your hand in something you don’t like isn’t right. i don’t mind ending this union between us once the time requisite passes– it’s a year, isn’t it?”

you were stunned, but still managed to muster a nod. he was so polite and colloquial. he kept a healthy distance from you to not make you too uncomfortable but kept close enough not to catch the suspicious eyes of the guests. 

“if that is what you want then by all means,” he smirked as he paused, his right eye glimmered for a second. “though i can’t guarantee you’ll want to by that point.” 

sylus’ hand remained on your person throughout the more festive side of the wedding, either on your hand or your shoulder, or your waist while his thumb rubbed up and down the bare skin of your back. 

watching him whisper to foreign dignitaries just loud enough for you to hear, shaking hands with members of the imperial court while ensuring you were fully acknowledged with respect, his occasional check-ins with you to ensure you were fine throughout– that wasn’t what you had expected of the fearsome leader of onychinus. 

his present ‘crows’ were all introduced to you, pledges and vows were made to your name to serve you with integrity, leaving you slightly confused as they only referred to you by your first name or ‘missus’ or ‘mrs boss’– specifically by two younger men wearing crow-like masks. 

“do you not have a last name?” you whispered to sylus as the next group of pitiful, arrogant, or opportunistic guests began to flock towards you after the last.

“is it needed?” you shrugged and sighed, rolling your shoulders back to prepare for the fake smiles coming to you like a hurricane. 

“i guess not, especially when you’re a planet conqueror.”

sylus softly hummed and took your hand, briefly walking away from the crowd before you. he guided you towards the entrance of the hall, attracting the attention of the guests you quickly moved past.

“what are you doing?” you hissed, subtly flicking the hand holding yours as you glanced over your shoulder. sylus briefly stopped and gently hooked your arm over his, which was surprisingly rather comfortable.

“i won’t let my wife tire herself out,” he said, glancing down at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “don’t worry about the maggots behind you. they’ll likely assume we are too excited to wait for the night.”

right. you had almost forgotten about that old tradition of consummating marriages. it was an outdated practice by general standards, but some of the wealthier clans and families still found it necessary to lock the marriage in place. you were surprised he believed in that, considering his line of business.

“i’ve never understood the practice honestly,” he tutted. “let couples do as they please at their own pace.” perhaps you were wrong about him.

his crows began to depart one by one, stopping to either nod, give you a look of respect, or even hug you wishing their welcomes to you. the two crow mask wearing young men nudged each other before they handed you a bouquet of blood red roses.

“your first wedding gift from the bossman!” the one with a deeper voice said. you could tell they had meant sylus. you accepted the roses and gave him a questioning side glance.

“would you have preferred receiving it during the ceremony?”

he guided you out of the hall to the main entrance of the estate. a crow– with ruby eyes and adorned with mechanical alterations especially to its wings– landed on sylus’ shoulder as you stepped outside. a very expensive looking luxury car awaited you. along with your parents.

your mother hobbled towards you with her cane, holding her hand out to hold you one last time. you instinctively leaned into her touch and pulled her into your embrace. a wave of emotion washed over you brimming tears in your eyes. 

your mother slowly stepped away from you, reluctant to let go of your hand. her sharp gaze averted to sylus who silently watched your stepfather throughout the interaction.

“keep my child safe. and alive.” he only gave her a nod. it became clear that your time was up for your old life. the transfer was complete and what happened next was up to you to brave with courage.

you gave your mother a final hug, requesting for her to take care of herself and that you would visit whenever you got the chance– both of you knew you never would.

as the vehicle pulled out of the main driveway with sylus at the wheel and you on the passenger seat, you heard your stepfather wishing you godspeed. it took more than balling your hands into fists to stop yourself from jumping out of the car and decapitating him with your hands.

the drive was mostly silent. the roof the car was opened to allow the wind to brush through your hair. a few black cars drove by your side for several minutes before branching off to different locations until the two of you were isolated on a road leading to the outskirts of linkon city.

you weren’t too sure on how to begin conversation with him– your… husband. even thinking about it felt unnatural. the car slowly picked up more speed until passing vehicles flashed by in less than a second. 

the exhilarating thrill of the speed reminded you of your horse and how you would often go riding at night to experience a sense of thrill to dispel your anger or disappointment. you had gone for a morning ride before preparing for the wedding, too afraid to say goodbye as your horse was the one thing– outside your mother– that you weren’t willing to let go of. like a man with a dog, you and your horse were true companions.

“you did well,” his voice almost made you jump in your seat. you turned to him with a look of slight agitation, watching him concentrate on the road. 

“oh sure, you would definitely be proud.” you scoffed, voice heavily laced with sarcasm.

“it’s good that you’re not ignorant,” he continued as if you didn’t say anything, making your eye twitch. “keeping an eye on every guest there to understand their intentions behind their presence and discerning between those who cared and those who benefitted from your- our marriage… that was admirably smart.”

your eyes narrowed. he was being painfully meticulous with his words but it also seemed effortless. you felt warmed by the praise, the acknowledgement of you putting your knowledge to good use. the crow cawed at you in what you assumed was anger.

“is this your pet?” you bit at the bird, making it flutter its wings and caw even more. sylus’ grinned as the car drove into a more isolated road.

“mephisto,” he said as the crow hopped off his shoulder and flew ahead of the car. “i don’t consider him as a pet– more like a confidant.”

mephisto cawed at you once more before flying off of sylus’ shoulders to speed ahead towards a large estate. the mansion looked absolutely marvelous, with its aged designs and well maintained grounds. it was slightly larger than your family’s estate with the lengthy driveway, the magnificent fountain at the main entrance and the overall quietness of the space. 

a dozen uniformed staff quietly moved boxes of what you recognised as your personal belongings into the mansion through what you assumed was the side entrance, stopping to bow in the presence of their employer.

one of them jogged to the car to greet sylus, not forgetting to acknowledge your presence, and announced that the staff would vacate to their quarters once your belongings were placed inside.

the interior was just as bourgeois as the outside. the main sitting area was dark, red and black with hints of rusted gold to be specific, covered with vintage furniture and collections of rare assets. you recognised a few of the paintings on the walls as prized works of classic creators. sylus was a creator.

towards the couches in the living area sat a bundle of neatly wrapped gifts in varying shapes and sizes. a few of the ones you picked were there as well. one of the many gifts that sat on the pile was the box of alcohol similar to the wine bottle in your hand.

“cherry wine,” sylus appeared next to you in complete silence, making you jump on the spot. “i love the scent of it.”

he poured you a glass and slid it to you before preparing his own. it smelled deliciously sweet to the point where you couldn’t tell if it was actually alcoholic. as the wine coated your lips, the sweetness was the first thing for you to sense. it was like drinking liquid sweets in the most erotic way possible. no wonder the term ‘pop the cherry’ was said when drinking that. the engulfing burn of the alcohol ran down your throat just as you swallowed. 

your tolerance for alcohol was reasonably strong– strong enough to have at least three glasses of the wine before you began to act differently. sylus, on the other hand, was already in a bit of a blush. he wasn’t near finished with his first glass.

“i didn’t take you for the type that can’t stomach drinks,” you commented as you poured yourself another glass. something about that intoxicating sweetness just had you thirsting for more. you were heating up under the confines of your wedding dress with it pooling close to your core.

sylus chuckled with a hint of nerve. “i don’t have the tolerance for it,” he admitted as he took another leisurely sniff of the drink. “and my sense of taste is somewhat dull, so i appreciate the smell more than what i consume.” he swirled the crimson beverage in the crystal glass, admiring the gloss of it under the warm lights above you. 

he glanced at the ring on your finger. “it looks good on you. i had feared that you would not like it.”

you followed his gaze, watching the light reflect on the crystals making them shine like water under the moonlight. 

“and you looked marvellous in that dress, as tattered as it was.” he was talking about the previous night. before you got roughhoused by those wanderers, the dress was rather beautiful and formfitting for you– dashed with gold and black jewels to complement the ruby red colour of your attire. you didn’t think he had noticed.

you could feel his gaze peeling you open layer by layer, increasing the bubbling heat within you. the alcohol must have been quite strong since it was rare for you to get so fuzzy so quickly. he was probably going to ramble more if you didn’t change the subject.

“do you live here?” you asked, turning away to look around the living room. your torso still felt so tight and constricted. “it looks untouched.”

your fingers fumbled to remove your necklace, struggling to get a good grip of the clasp– partially because you were flustered and that you the dress was designed in such a way that you couldn’t vigorously move around.

sylus moved behind you and moved your hands to your sides with an uncharacteristic amount of gentleness. this kindness was still something you were suspicious of. for a conquerer to be so kind to you felt weird.

“it’s a temporary stop before we get to the n109 zone,” he helped you remove your necklace, his fingers slowly travelled up your neck to unclasp it. “we can stay however long you need if you’re not ready to go.”

you instinctively leaned into his touch, feeling the heat of his hand spread across your skin. his patience and care was something you greatly appreciated– so much so that it gradually lowered your guard.

from the wedding to the tedious reception to that very moment, his behaviour went completely against the rumours that spread tainting his name. the same rumours that instilled fear amongst your peers. even when he stepped in to help you in battle the previous night, he wasn’t cruel– not with you at least.

“what were you doing in linkon yesterday?” you asked as sylus placed the necklace on the couch. he took your hand, silently indicating his desire to walk with you.

“confirming a few deals with the hunters association,” the hallway was wide and covered with pillars of withered plants and old paintings. although it looked meticulously clean it was still so void of life. “i needed to maintain my influence with my associates working there. i believe one of them are distantly related to you. she said you have a habit of chasing wanderers.”

then that was what she meant about your destiny. she knew about the deal too. a flash of disappointment in your face caught his ever so watchful eye.

“don’t blame her for this arrangement. she didn’t know better.” he rubbed your hand with his thumb and tugged you into the dining hall, embroidered with expensive carpets, couches and a fireplace on and by the floor, exotic plants on the corners of the large room and large windows overlooking the extensive grounds of the estate, coloured orange from the setting sun. 

your skin was painted in a warm gold colour along with his, kissed by the light shining into the dark room. the faint tipsy blush on sylus’ cheeks had gradually darkened as he looked at you, fully taking you in.

the way your dress hugged your body and accentuated your beauty, the soft amount of makeup on your face that amplified your natural appearance, and your relentless energy in how you spoke and moved had set his mind in a bit of a frenzy. even when you gave him that confused look you were just so pretty.

so pretty.

so beautiful.

so attractive.

heat flowed through his veins in rapid flashes, more than he could comprehend. it wasn’t similar to what he normally experienced whenever he was intoxicated. his hand left your grip to tug down on his tie that tightened around his neck, feeling as though he was suffocating.

his vision began to haze slightly, almost as though he was blinded by a wave of a familiar yet enhanced sensation– a magnified feeling.

lust.

“sylus?” his large hand hit the wall to maintain his balance. you almost called out for the staff to help but you quickly remembered they were all likely gone.

“are you alright?” your eyes blurred in a daze, your body fuzzed from the heat surrounding you and the incessant throbbing and swelling feeling of arousal spreading around you. sylus leaned on the wall, covering his eyes with his hand, the other quickly rushing down his abdomen to his crotch where a very large bulge pressed against the fabric of his pants.

oh. oh.

this was far from noble. both of you were basically clawing at your clothing, disheveled with the heat of pure desire– that had to be what it was. and for some reason, the muscles on his arms bulging through his tailored suit became more prominent than it was throughout the entire day.

just what could have caused a flash of this to happen out of nowhere?

then it clicked. the wine. that damned wine. did someone send it to you to spike you? the speculation made you pause to think. if someone wanted you and sylus dead, why would they send over a crate of cherry wine that has rendered you both insufferably hot–

“cherries, sylus, cherries are aphrodisiacs.” you groaned, holding your face in your hands. you just knew it that recommendation had no pure intent behind it.

“not strong ones,” sylus muttered, his back turned to you. though you could clearly see his ears were flushed red. “unless there’s another component in there– damn it, did you taste pomegranate?”

you did but it wasn’t that strong over the sweetness of the cherries. but you remembered someone mentioning (back in your clubbing days) that there are variants of the wine that have stronger effects– one of them being an aggressive aphrodisiac.

the air was thick, your breaths were heavy, the distance between you was less than a few steps away and ethically speaking it should have been much further than that. and yet– and yet you didn’t want to be any further from him.

you wanted to help him and yourself. through the clearest means possible.

“we need to fuck our way through this.” sylus whipped his head to you, almost bewildered by your brash approach. “only if you’re willing.”

“i am,” his chest rose and fell heavily, beads of sweat began to form on his forehead, damping that soft, cloud white hair of his. “but i worry if you are willing to do it. there are other ways we can handle this without going as far as intercourse–“

“what, masturbate in separate rooms?” you scoffed. you hissed in a breath, tugging down at your dress in a sore attempt to breathe more. “i don’t think i’d be able to get off if i can’t see you.” that part came out in a loud whisper which didn’t go deaf to his ears. 

“oh sweetie,” that same infuriating yet charming smirk tugged at his plump, soft– fuck. “you think i’m attractive?”

“wasn’t that obvious?” you panted and tugged at your neckline. “gods, i need this dress off.”

a gust of energy pulled you towards sylus until you were fully in his embrace. his head was dipped into your neck, lips so close to your skin. if this was his attempt to help relieve your mutual tension it definitely wasn’t working.

“perhaps i can take it off,” his hands traveled to the back of your neck and the small of your back, searing your nerves just with his touch. “your desire has changed to that of wanting something. someone. should this someone step in?”

oh that ass– you knew exactly what he wanted you to say. you weren’t going to give him that satisfaction. not by a long shot.

“maybe a kiss will suffice,” you mentally slapped your forehead. a kiss will suffice? your flirtation skills must have turned into pure mush. it was probably his face. handsome, divine, damned face!

and to your internal relief and joy he dutifully complied, engulfing you in his touch. just like the first kiss you shared, he was so gentle but this time you could sense he was holding back. though, admittedly, so were you. your hands stroked his hair, occasionally tugging at those soft tufts. a low groan erupted into your mouth accompanied with a harsh tut.

“my dear wife,” his voice had dropped an octave, rumbling straight down to your core which had already started to pool with arousal. something about him calling you that felt good. really good. “we are dangerously dangling over this cliff. are you sure you want to take the dive?”

you pecked his lips, giddy from the kiss. “let’s hope you can swim.”

your hands swarmed all over each other as the kiss intensified with each beat of your heart. in intervaled tugs and pulls and breaths between the kisses, your shoes both were kicked off, then his tie fell to the floor, then his blazer, then his dress shirt, exposing his torso to your hungry eyes. 

he expertly unbuttoned your dress at its collar and paused waiting for your permission to proceed. you quickly nodded and assisted him by tugging down the front of the dress, revealing your torso both bare and sparkling from the glitter sprayed onto your dress.

sylus eyed you with an indecipherable look all while feeling his way down to your hips so slowly with his large hands, tracing his fingers over the outline of your breasts and the sides of your waist. he was admiring you. 

his eyes fluttered shut as a shaky whine left his lips. within the closed space between your heated bodies, his hips managed to jut to yours reminding you of his throbbing length trapped within the confines of his clothing.

you leaned back, widened eyes peering into his burning crimson gaze. a quiet bond had formed between you in seconds and the instant understanding had been made transparently clear. he took your hands– which were not surprisingly smaller than his own– until they cupped his erection. sylus’ hands swiftly touched the zipper below the back opening of your dress and tugged it straight down.

“my patience is wearing thin, sweetie,” his lips tickled the shell of your ear. “i don’t know how much more i can hold back with you this close to me.”

you wasted no time in tugging down his pants along with his briefs allowing his cock to spring free, slapping your skin with precum almost spurting from his reddened tip. that alone was enough to have you soaked.

it was so hot and heavy, and long and thick, thick enough for you to question if your hand could wrap around it let alone your poor pussy, who was shamelessly leaking even more while sylus slid your dress and your lacy underwear down to the floor.

“i wanted to rip that off.”

“what?” 

“what?” with a scoff, you pushed him back with a singular finger to his chest and stepped away from the abandoned dress on the floor to get a better look of your husband confidently standing before you.

you’re mentally fanning yourself at the sight, shamelessly thinking of all the profanities you can conjure and all the dirtiest images involving the two of you. those thoughts must have been made under the influence of the wine. right?

“you like?” sylus grinned, watching you relentless stare at his body. his well-built, muscular body. god-sculpted and revered– fuck, you were in too deep.

“don’t get cocky.” you huffed, feeling your face warm for the nth time that night. that dress was getting a bit too tight on you. you tugged at the opening at your back to force more airflow around your skin but nothing was working. prickles of sensitivity brought you to a shiver, the slightest movement from your legs was stimulating pleasure to the power of a thousand. 

you almost pounced on him. almost. but you maintained composure. you straightened your posture and moved to the dining table, pushing away the plates and cutlery in your way to free up the corner. fortunately it was short enough to stand between. 

sylus followed in suit, standing at the opposite end of the table at the shorter side to not be too far from you. his hands wandered all over his body, stroking and pinching at his skin to tease himself– and you.

“i know what you’re doing, sylus.”

“i know what you’re doing, sweetie,” his hand eventually found his cock, ghosting his touch over his sensitive length. you watched him bite his lips, watched him intentionally raise the stakes in the little game you were playing together. 

you were going to go all in. you leaned into the corner of the table, connecting your needy wetness to its new source of pleasure.

sharp jolts ran up your spine from your clit rubbing against the corner of the table. you paused, slowly repeating the movement until you relaxed into the position too needy to stop. your hand flew to your mouth to muffle the impeding moans just begging to roll off your tongue.

across the table, he watched you in a daze while lazily pumping at his cock. his fist squeezed around the base, making the veins running up his shaft more prominent, and stroked up until his angry red tip disappeared within his hand. a gentle plap! rhythm accompanied the classical music in the background as he picked up a reasonable pace. 

his fingers danced around his tip rubbing back and forth on the slit that dribbled out precum like a leaky tap– soft moans were being pulled out of his lips as he teased his body, he caressed his chest and ultimately tortured himself, all while intently watching your pretty, squished breats bounce between your arms as your hips began to rut against the table.

he must have been doing all of that on purpose.

your knuckles paled as your grip on the table strengthened, so desperate to have something inside your weeping pussy that you almost stuffed your fingers as far as they’d be able to go. but alas, you knew they weren’t capable of satiating what you needed. you dropped your head to concentrate– to go just a bit harder–

“uh-uh, kitten,” you could just hear him smiling. kitten. a jolt shot straight down to your core. you could just feel your slick begin to drip down your legs, and judging by the reckless pump of blood flow your lips must swollen from all that need. “look at me.”

nope, you weren’t planning on doing that. not while you were getting closer to your climax. the angle you had found was just perfect, hitting the bud of your swollen clit and rubbing at the sensitive nerves surrounding at. you could just hear the squelches from your wetness leaking onto the table and dripping down in small, sticky droplets. 

you raised your head slightly, panting out a desperate moan, eyes hazed with arousal and need only to find sylus not where he was originally standing. your breath hitched, instantly feeling his overwhelming presence behind you. how did he get there so fast?

his lips found the back of your neck, still well exposed despite the neatness of your styled hair falling apart. his hands settled on your waist, holding you in place as kissed down your spine and around the fading remnants of the insignia painted onto your back.

“how about i help you a bit?” he murmured and licked his way up your spine until his hot, wet tongue found the shell of your ear. “would you like that?”

too breathless to speak, you nodded.

“use your words, sweetie.” he whispered and pecked your jaw. his hardened cock lightly grazed the curve of your ass. “this only works if you tell me you want it.”

“oh fuck you.”

“that’s not what i’m looking for.” he teasingly presses himself against you, rubbing himself up and down, nestling his cock between your lower cheeks. “tell me what you want.”

he was so close yet so damn far, and his teasing wasn’t helping at all. “you.” you choked.

“hmm?”

“damn you, i need your help!” you blabbered while your body instinctively pushed back to be closer to him. “i want your help and i want you– now, help me!”

sylus hummed in approval, lowering his hands to your hips. “yes ma’am.”

your legs were beginning to ache from your endless grinding to satisfy your insatiable desire, bringing you to a tremble. sylus’ presence had briefly left you until he returned with his hands on the back of your thighs and warm air fanning your pussy.

“absolutely soaked,” he commented in astonishment, pressing a wet peck on your thigh, intentionally making you feel how far he is from where he’s supposed to be. you groaned, bucking back in urgency.

“stop teasing!”

“oh?” he pressed another kiss on your other thigh, intentionally increasing the distance. “i thought enjoyed my brattiness, kitten. are you going to threaten me with your claws?”

you stopped moving to give him a glare. “sylus–“

“no, continue what you were doing. i’ll take care of this little mess right…” his fingers rubbed your entrance, spreading your wetness down to your thighs. “here.” 

oh yes. his hands were perfect. 

they did so much more to you than your own ever could. you slowly rocked your hips against the desk to return your wavering attention to your needy bud. the double stimulation from his fingers gradually going deeper inside you and your clit being abused by a bloody inanimate object– you could just feel yourself reaching your limit.

his fingers explored your weeping pussy without restraint, curving and curling in you to find exactly what made you tick, twitch, and tingle. his lips caressed your bare lower cheeks, making your pant more and more until a sharp sting threw you off your daze. it was a bite. he bit you.

“did you just bite my ass–“

“yeah, what about it?”

you scoffed in disbelief, muttering that you’d stop him from biting your ass and pushed his head back to devour your soaking cunt. sylus grunted in surprise but wasted no time to get to work, resting his hands on your ass to give his tongue more access to you.

you heard of tongue-fucking as a concept but you never understood how good it felt– not until now. feeling him smoothly curl and curve that wet muscle inside you so effortlessly had you in a messy daze. your nails clawed into his hair, keeping him in place to continue with his gentle yet persistent ministrations.

“s-sylus,” you moaned, moving faster and faster to chase your impending high, keeping him close to you to ensure he followed your flow. “oh, fuck, sylus!”

“mm– so profane.” his voice was muffled against you, his tongue swirled around your entrance before slipping back inside. the vibrations of his moans rumbled through you almost triggering you to tip off the edge. that familiar plap! plap! rhythm sounded beneath you, accompanying his choked noises.

you pushed his head back to face him, and you were shockingly pleased.

your dangerous husband was on his knees with his hand shamelessly tending to his abandoned, flushed cock, jutting his hips to simulate what it could feel deep inside you. the experience of having his fingers and tongue in you alone was more than enough to set him off.

now he just needed to have you in every position humanely possible.

“need some help?” you grinned in a mocking tone, slowly kneeling before him. sylus’ face was as red as the cherry wine, his broad, muscular chest glistened in a layer of sweat that dripped down the lines of his abdomen until it was lost within the trimmed, white tufts of the hairs surrounding his cock. you just couldn’t take your eyes off him. you didn’t want to.

“please,” it didn’t even take you teasing for him to give in. sylus leaned forward, hand still working his raging cock, and rested his head against yours. 

“i need you,” you watched his cock twitch in his hands, slowly beginning to salivate. damn, those aphrodisiacs were strong. you had never felt that aroused before. never felt such a strong desire to take him in your mouth. 

“i have an idea,” you whispered, pecking the corner of his lips. he whimpered from the mere contact, leaning into you more to reach your lips. “if you’ll let me.”

“anything, kitten,” he pressed a desperate kiss on your lips. then another. “anything.”

what he didn’t anticipate from you was that you’d immediately go down on him, moving his hands up and swiping your tongue around his cock in an instant. he sucked in a deep breath, closing his eyes. what a seductress you were.

from the way you walked down the alter to him, to your joy and serenity on horseback, to that very moment with you bent down lubricating him with your tongue, kissing his leaking cockhead with your pretty lips.

you kissed your way up his shaft, long and heavy, testing how girthy he truly was with your hand– so thick you couldn’t wrap your hand around it fully. you took his tip in, getting a taste of his precum bursting into your mouth from a simple touch all while swirling your tongue over his slit.

his groans vibrated onto your tongue as it lapped up more drops of his precum at debilitatingly slow pace. lick, lick, lick like a kitten drinking milk. his shaft was not left alone, being delicately handled by your hands stroking up and down with gentle squeezes in intervals.

“squeeze– squeeze harder.” sylus panted. you raised your eyes to meet his piercing crimson gaze. a shot of tingles vibrated around your pussy, making you so much wetter. you obeyed without complaint, strengthening your grip on his cock with each stroke. 

your head bobbed taking you further and further down his shaft until his leaky tip tapped the back of your mouth, right before the curve down your throat. you choked out a moan, feeling a tingle of tears burn the corners of your eyes. sylus quickly noticed and cradled your head, about to pull you out.

“are you alright?” from your angle he looked like such an adorable puppy, worried for you while his cock was stuffed in your mouth. you hummed, stroking his hand, and opened your jaw to take more of him. you took deep breaths through your nose slowly returning to your initial rhythm.

sylus watched his cock slowly disappear into your mouth until he was fully bottomed out in you. you were so warm and your throat was so tight around his length, so much so that you couldn’t help but gag every so often around his girth. the sounds of your chokes and gags filled the space along with the delicious sloppiness of your pretty mouth slurping around him.

“so pretty,” he huffed. the temptation to grip your head and guide you to go faster was getting stronger by the second. his knees ached from sitting in that position for so long but the pleasure was worth the pain. his hand instinctively pushed your further down into him and you responded so well by hollowing your cheeks, tightening your mouth around him as much as you could. his eyes rolled back as he moaned, your noises of pure pleasure reverberated in the air.

it was so wet and sloppy, creating a small puddle of precum and saliva from what dripped out of your mouth. you pulled your head back with a loud pop! with your tongue out, letting all the slickness drip down to his tip. sylus groaned in an attempt to hold back whatever profanities brewed in him.

your face was drenched from the tip of your nose down beyond your chin. sylus breathing was heavy, chest heaving, face fully flushed. his lips opened to speak but he was rendered speechless. his lips rushed onto your neck, licking up the slick wetness until his lips found yours. 

like how you worked his cock, the kiss was wet, sloppy, lustfully passionate and boiling with your mutual greed to consume each other. your tongues swirled and collided, teeth occasionally clashing as well in reckless pursuit of remaining as close as possible.

he pulled you onto his lap, cock still rock hard and flush against your abdomen, rubbing against your flesh, making him shiver from the stimulation. the buzz from the aphrodisiac was still strong, coursing through him as quickly as his pulse.

“need to be in you,” he moaned against you lips in a rough plea. “need to feel you.”

your inhibitions were right out the window. all you could think of was the thought of you two sickeningly together, divinely united, fucking consummating the damn marriage just so you could fully feel him. “need you inside, sy,”

like hearing an instant buzzword sylus immediately acted on your word, picking you up and moving you towards the carpet by the fireplace. he rested your head on the larger pillow while pressing his lips down your body, whispering his praises.

his lips found your hand and kissed each knuckle. “thank you for accepting me despite our rough first impression.” he kissed you up your arm all the way to your collarbones, nipping your flesh then licking you as an apology.

“want to make you feel so good,” he suckled on your skin as his hands fondled your breasts, thumbs circling your pebbled nipples making your back arch. he gently tugged on your hardened bud with his teeth and switched to the other, lathering it with his tongue and leaving harsh bruises behind.

“want to be yours,” his lips slowly travelled back up your neck, suckling small bruises and biting his mark onto your skin.

“you are, genuis.” you huffed, wiggling your finger holding the bedazzled ring. sylus glanced at it with a look of great admiration, enamoured by how it looked in your hand. how you wore it so confidently.

“legally,” his hands held your face and gave you a squish. “legally, but not of your own accord.”

you had to admit that he was correct. the marriage alone wasn’t something you would have agreed with. but you found him interesting within the last few hours where you got to speak to him. outside of your physical attraction to him you liked how his mind worked too.

“then let me make you mine.”

a look of surprise painted his face. you assured him with a smile. “let me claim you as mine. my husband. my friend. my partner.” 

your lips found each other once more, dancing in pure passion and adoration as your bodies performed a more lewd waltz in grinds and strong grips on sensitive flesh. sylus adjusted himself, aligning his cock with your dripping entrance.

he gave you one more questioning look to which you responded with an affirmative nod, lacing your fingers between his. he rolled his hips against yours, gently bullying the tip of his cock into you until it disappeared past your swollen pussy lips. you felt so warm and so damn tight he struggled to keep what was left of his composure. 

the sting of his sheer size and girth made you hiss and claw your fingers on his arm, gasping at the sheer buildup of pressure. sylus’ eyes were squeezed shut, brows furrowed, and lips parted allowing a melodic moan to flow into your ears. 

somehow the feeling of him being inside you get you wetter than you could comprehend and your walls sucked him in, pulling his cock deeper into you until he was almost, almost bottomed out.

“i think she likes me,” he huffed, massaging your hips to soothe the sting. 

“maybe.”

“definitely.” he slowly drew his hips back and thrusted forward with little restraint. the pain had disappeared with a fiery ignition replacing it. your gummy walls held onto his cock as it drew back and rushed into you again, creating a slick and wet noise between you as he gradually went faster.

your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist to lock him in place while your hands explored his back, smooth and rippled with his muscles tensing and relaxing with each gentle thrust. his lips peppered kisses and bites onto your neck, sucking harsh bruises into your skin as a substitution for the pent up desire he was desperately trying to hold back.

your name was rambled into the air in seething moans as if he was almost pained to have to restrain himself. to not harm you in pursuit of pleasing you. and then you tugged his hair. and gave him that look.

“stop holding back sy,” you whispered and pecked the corner of his lip. you were feeling a bit too greedy. “let’s give in.”

something must have snapped in him. a switch must have flipped because you saw a completely different look in his eyes in the exact second you felt his cock fit inside you entirely, fully bottoming out in you. your eyes rolled back from the sheer quick force of it, choking out a cry.

he wasn’t merciful either with his pace gradually picking up to the point where your skin slapped against his every time your hips collided until a wet clapping rhythm echoed across the dining hall alongside your joint noises.

your hands crept up to his back, finding comfort in rudely carving red lines into his skin without restraint. sylus’ melodic groans serenaded you into a haze that demanded more and more from him– more noise, more pleasure, just more.

sylus slowly sat up and glanced down to watch his cock disappear inside you then pull back out, glistening with your joint wetness to the point where it ran up his abdomen. the pillows propping you up gave you a slight view as well, a view so lewd that you almost hit your orgasm then and there.

“you are so– so tight, kitten.” sylus panted, pushing his damped hair back. his muscles were flexed, defining the sweat dripping down his body. you were almost certain you could ride his abs and get off just from that.

“you’re so big,” your eyes fluttered closed, too overwhelmed by him filling you up consistently. the pleasure alone was overwhelming. seeing him so disheveled because of you was so delightful. 

your legs were pushed up against you before he leaned back down, his tip teasing your dripping entrance for painfully long seconds before pushing in entirely in a swift slam. your pussy stung with esctasy, your toes curled from the intensive swell of pleasure in the direct spot his tip brutally poked, your eyes crossed out of your control. just what did he do?

near shaking above you, sylus leaned into your touch, hypnotised– no, enamoured by you. he just wanted to stay buried so deeply inside you, privileged to be the only one to feel how your walls squeeze and flutter around him, to be able to explore what makes you tick and moan or scratch him in need, what would make you happy, what would anger you, he wanted it all.

he had it all. he had you. and he was gradually learning just how much he needed you.

“you’re so enchanting,” he half moaned-half laughed as he returned to his initial pace in that deeper angle. “so– gods– so powerful.” he watched your pretty face fall into a daze, lips spread apart for him to hear your voice crack with your cries. your bodies were so close that the friction of your sweat stricken skin no longer bothered either of you.

you could felt your limit approaching. all that stimulation and foreplay from earlier on top of the aphrodisiac’s influence was driving you insane. you pulled sylus’ head to yours, pressing your lips onto his desperate to consume him, desperate to ensure he knew how you felt so good with him. how you felt safe.

but fuck, you were going to explode. you were so painfully close and it looked like he was too. 

it took a few more sharp thrusts before the thin string snapped, throwing you into a whole new realm of bliss. a loud cry escaped you, followed by a soft whimper from the man above you before you both crumbled in the cloud of intoxicating sparks bursting. 

your soaked walls fluttered as globs of sticky, hot cum filled you up, partially spurting out with each rough thrust. a string of curses filled the air from both of you due to the sheer deliciousness of the feeling.

hours– or, realistically speaking, minutes– must have passed while you panted, glistening in the afterglow of your erotic pursuit. despite the exhaustion, you somehow managed to soothe each other through soft caresses and massages in the areas where you gripped each other harder than intended.

sylus rested his head on your shoulder, kissing the parts of your neck that he could reach. you brought his hand to your lips and pecked each knuckle over and over again, blessing his ring finger with a particularly longer one.

“when the effects wear off, things will be a bit awkward.” sylus grumbled. 

you hummed in agreement. but considering how far you had gone on your first– technically second– day of knowing one another, you could pretty much do anything.

“how about we start off as friends first and see where that goes?” you suggesting, lacing your fingers with his. your rings dazzled in the moonlight for to admire. “i mean, we’ve already achieved the marriage goal. and the consummation.”

his laugh vibrated onto your neck, further lulling you in to comfortable exhaustion. maybe a nice nap on the floor wouldn’t hurt. 

sylus smiled a kiss onto your neck then your cheek, eyes twinkling with bliss and joy. “alright then, dearest wife who is also my new friend. let’s do that.”

in the mutual quiet, you both found yourselves admiring each other as the heat of your climax finally cooled down. and then the next wave of arousal quickly arrived. you definitely weren’t going to hold back this time.

“again.” you pressed a kiss on the corner of his lips.

“again?” he panted, almost in worry. you were insatiable.

“you can’t handle it?” you laughed in a teasing tone. within an instant you found yourself straddled on top of him– he must have turned you over with that inhumane strength– his cock quickly hardening again inside you. 

“i was worried about you, sweetie,” he squeezed your nose with a playful grin before settling his large hands on your hips, rocking them back and forth. you could just feel his cum seeping out of you. “i hope you can keep up because we won’t be stopping till the sun rises.”

[nasa]

Spinoffs: Space Station Innovations in Your Cart (and Heart!)

You might think NASA technology is just spaceships and telescopes, but did you know the camera in your cell phone is, too? It’s one of many NASA innovations now found everywhere on Earth.

The International Space Station has had crew living on it for 25 years straight. In that time, the space station has enabled a tremendous amount of research, helping NASA and scientists better understand long-term living in space – but it’s not just knowledge coming back down to Earth! Technologies developed for the space station and experiments conducted aboard the orbiting lab also benefit people on the planet below. Here are a few of these inventions, or spinoffs, you can find in your everyday life.

A Sunscreen That Blocks Radiation in Space – and on Your Face

After surviving for 18 months outside the International Space Station, an extremely hardy organism is now improving sunscreens and face cream products from a cosmetics company, which licensed use of the organism from NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory.

Build Muscle With or Without Gravity

Muscles atrophy quickly in space, so when astronauts began long stays on the International Space Station, they needed some specialized exercise equipment. A resistance mechanism made of a coiled metal spring formed the basis of the first way for astronauts to “lift weights” in space. Soon after, that same design became the heart of compact home gym equipment.

Fresh Greens Every Day of the Year

The need to grow fresh food in space pushed NASA to develop indoor agriculture techniques. Thanks to the agency’s research, private companies are building on NASA’s vertical farm structure, plant-growth “recipes,” and environmental-control data to create indoor farms, resulting in higher crop yields and better-quality produce while conserving water and energy and eliminating the need for pesticides.

Cultivating Hearts and Knees in Space

Gravity is a significant obstacle to bioprinting cells and growing human tissue on Earth because heavier components settle to the bottoms of petri dishes. In the absence of gravity, each cell layer stays in place, which is how it’s possible to grow heart and knee tissue on the space station. The same principle also allows mixing of complex pharmaceuticals on orbit.

Storing Oodles of Energy

NASA chose nickel-hydrogen batteries to power the Hubble Space Telescope and the International Space Station because the technology is safe, reliable in extreme temperatures, and long-lived. NASA’s improvements brought down the cost of the technology, which is now used by large-scale utilities and renewable power plants that need to store energy generated by intermittent sources.

You can read about many more products sourced from the ISS on spinoff.nasa.gov.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[doppel-doodles]

A normal post a about Kevin Barnes from Poppy Playtime.

I genuinely feel so bad for Kevin…

Like that was a kid who clearly had a lot of issues from the start, instead of getting the help he needed all that happened was him being marked off as a „problem child“.

And then he was turned into a toy:/

Read more of my full thoughts and a sorta character analysis/ramblings below cut!

Like honestly no wonder he is seething if he wasn’t troubled before he definitely is now-

Obviously he has no trust in anyone, almost every adult he ever knew screwed him over in some way, hell even the kids he shares a body with would go against what he would do.

(Great example: When Doey chases us in his monster form, it's the arms of Matthew and Jack that are trying to keep his mouth from biting us, Kevin's are trying to grab for us.)

He was hurt over and over again, clearly he wasn’t aggressive just because he wanted to be but because this was his only way of making sure he wouldn’t get hurt.

It was how he had a semblance of control, a sense of protection.

But of course the irony is: That coping mechanism brought him more pain, it was what got him killed.

Sure, maybe he could've just "calmed down", but why would he? He was hurt again, he lost everything AGAIN.

All because he listened to their judgement over his own. Kevin could've killed the player and Poppy on sight, clearly his emotions easily overpowered the other two, but he didn't.

Instead he agreed to trust them as well.

He was still willing to do that, surely if he were just a mindless monster he wouldn't be.

And you know what? I believe he blames himself just as much if not more for what happened than he blames us and Poppy and projects it tenfold.

Because maybe, JUST MAYBE-

If he didn't allow himself to trust again, then everyone would still be alive.

But he did...now see what that got him?

In his mind he's proven right.

So what's an emotionally unstable child to do? After being hurt AGAIN?

That's right.

He lashes out at the first thing he sees that had something to do with his pain:

Us.

Is he in the right? Hell nah- bro we didn't mean for that to happen! But do you seriously think this kid is thinking rationally right now??? NO! He is seeing red right now, he is in fight mode! All emotions and must I reiterate that the only way he knows how to express them is through anger and violence?

There is NO reasoning with wrath try as you might! And that hurts because yeah maybe you could've dealt with that if he was still a gradeschooler but he isn't! He is 900 pounds of living dough with a thirst for blood!

It's either our life or his now. And we already know what the outcome of that is.

Honestly I think it's better that we only hear Matthew and Jack apologise for what happened, I do not think Kevin would even if he did feel bad for what he had done.

Because why would someone who has been scorned so many times be vulnerable all of the sudden? When his main character trait is biting at those who bark at him?Why would all that rage suddenly disappear? If anything the stress of dying only causes him to lash out more.

You don't need an apology from him to feel bad for him.

He is hurting anyone with two eyes can see that and for what it's worth, I do believe deep down he knew what he was doing was wrong but it was too late for him to see any other alternatives and even if he didn't and thought he was right for doing what he did it doesn't take away from the fact that he was fucked over by life.

Kevin is not the worst part of Doey, he is just a part of him.

And that part is not just a violent hunk of playdough.

It’s a scared, confused little boy that cared just as much about every toy in safe haven as his other two components did.

Because if he didn’t why would he get so angry about their death?

Anyway thanks for coming to my ted talk-

Also feel free to agree or disagree with my take, those are just my thoughts so let me hear yours, I like discussions:}

For those interested here are some Jack thoughts and Matthew!:D

And the big blue lump Doey

[starlit1daydream]

On the subject of Equius Zahhak: hypersexuality and patriarchy.

It's been a hot minute since I promised to write something like this, and I've been meaning to test a new writing style for these big posts anyways - so I'm going to try my hand at explaining my personal interpretation of Equius Zahhak.

Equius is one of my favourite side characters in Homestuck, and though the individual components of his characterisation are intentionally facetious and humourous, all of these components then come together to form a fantastic and deeply layered commentary, however unintentional.

Let's begin with the basics: our introduction to Equius proper.

The narrative makes it clear from the start how you're meant to feel about this guy for starters - he's a creep and a weirdo. Nepeta says as much in their very first interaction on-screen:

This is backed up by the narrator themselves exhibiting a discomfort with him, painting him as a cryptic and eerily observant loner:

Once again, he's making people uncomfortable. Discomfort is going to be a very common theme going forward, particularly once we tap into Equius' personal interests and the justification behind them.

The next sign is when we first see him properly on-screen, and the narrator is immediately mortified by the state of his room and advises us to move on with the story.

So, immediately, any cognizant reader knows what's up. This guy is a joke character. A punchline, a fool, a weird asshole with no redeeming qualities. This is, of course, the intended reaction.

...Which then brings us to the subversions involved with Equius' character. Every single off-putting and strange thing about him is subsequently repainted in a more flattering light by the conclusion of his screen-time.

What begins as an overcontrolling, possessive demeanour towards Nepeta becomes a genuine, albeit perhaps overbearing desire to protect his moirail from harm. The context of him being Vriska's neighbour helps us infer that he's very, very aware of the dangers of FLARPing.

What starts as a bizarre and testosterone-poisoned obsession with strength becomes more of a fleshed-out character flaw. It's an inherent fault that Equius cannot control that brings him more distress than anything else. We'll delve into that later.

This is not, of course, to say that Equius is without genuine fault. You are still meant to find problems with his behaviour, of course you are; the Aradiabot fiasco is an intentional violation of personal agency based around an unhealthy obsession. He allows himself and his moirail to die because of his refusal to disobey the vapid and classist hemospectrum.

Okay, so why is he like this?

I'm glad you've asked. This is where this delves more into conjecture, based around a few different things.

The state of the internet and online culture at the time of Equius' inception; and the ramifications therein.

What we know to be true about the aspect of Void, and how Equius interacts with it.

The added retroactive context of Hussie's handling of queer topics (as a non-binary person themselves!), particularly on the subject of gender identity.

Let's start with point one.

Equius and hypersexuality.

At the time of Homestuck's inception, it was a veritable fact that the internet was overrun with overt sexuality, oft for the sake of shock value as opposed to arousal. Screamers and shock sites like 2girls1cup, goatse, Mr. Hands... (that last one is particularly relevant).

I cite Mr. Hands in particular because therein we get to the use of bestiality as a gross-out punchline. This is what Hussie's invoking with Equius; you're looking at this guy and seeing a gross freak who hangs horse porn on his walls. It's appealing to the fact that:

Homosexuality was considered a funny punchline.

The furry fandom was considered a funny puchline.

Bestiality was considered a funny punchline.

And so, this thirteen year old child hanging gay horse porn on his walls is meant to be played for laughs.

But with the retroactive lens we're looking at this through now? It's not only deeply disturbing for reasons I don't think I need to explain, but it's also a portrait of unhealthy teenage sexuality and the ramifications of exposure to explicit content at a young age.

Because it's a veritable fact that Equius does not understand boundaries and has a deeply flawed relationship with his sexuality. It's the kind of hypersexuality induced by childhood exposure to sexual material, and I would go as far as to call it a kind of CSE.

Need more proof of this? Dave Strider. Bro's weird sex puppets and usage of pornography as a punchline undeniably fucked Dave up, and explains the way he so regularly uses sex, particularly gay sex as a source of humour. Dave is the same problem that Equius rises, played seriously at a point in the story wherein these things are no longer treated so facetiously.

Furthermore, it becomes clear that Equius does not actually understand what he is consuming and emulating. Pornography isn't pornography to him, it's fine art. He's uncomfortable and unhappy with his sexuality because he lacks a label for it and doesn't know what it is he's feeling. This is tied to his Aspect of Void; but more on that in just a second.

This is uncomfortable. It is meant to be uncomfortable.

Equius' toying with casteplay and power dynamics is a clear representation of this frayed relationship - and it also segues into our point about his lack of self-worth.

Equius, the Heir of Void.

The Void Aspect. The Aspect of irrelevance, secrecy, ignorance, simplicity and absence, amongst other things.

The Heir Class. The Class that indicates an overabundance of the player's Aspect that overwhelms them and embodies them.

Equius is he who inherits, becomes and is consumed by emptiness. Because Equius Zahhak does not have a sense of selfhood or self-worth. The inference brought about by his title as the Heir of Void is that Equius is overwhelmed by nothingness.

Combine this with his Dersite status and the consensus on Lunar Sway (Prospit indicating externalisation, Derse indicating internalisation) and you get a very clear image of how Equius' title translates.

An overwhelming, consuming sense of internalised absence and nothingness. This is where Equius' hemospectrum adherence comes in! It's a cover up to compensate for his purposelessness and lack of meaningful identity. He sees himself as being deficient in anything real or of substance, and so adheres to the system placed before him because it is the only thing he feels he understands.

Once again, this is uncomfortable and a real phenomenon amongst teen boys. We see it with Eridan, too; young and confused teenagers with no sense of purpose falling into harmful and bigoted pipelines because they have no sense of direction otherwise.

(In a roundabout sense this explains Tavros' role as well; The Page indicates a deficit in their Aspect throughout the session and so the trolls lacking Breath in the form of directionlessness fits fairly well).

It's almost like watching a young boy fall into the alt-right, or start feed into Andrew Tate-style snake oil bullshit. It's the exact same kind of exploitation on a much larger scale; because it's the whole of Alternian society orchestrated by Doc Scratch.

You know... the Doc Scratch meant to represent online groomers?

So, we've been over about all I can cover about Equius' sexual trauma, lack of boundaries and emptiness/lack of self. So, how does this translate? Particularly thinking on the last point, I'd like to give my two cents about a very interesting headcanon for Equius that's been circulating a lot lately.

Equius, and gender identity.

A transfeminine reading greatly enhances the content of Equius' character, and provides a narratively satisfying character arc and means of development for them.

(From hereon out, I will be referring to Equius by the pronouns she/her).

I've seen Nekropsii sum this up beautifully, and I'll paraphrase this interpretation to the best of my ability; Equius' manifestation of masculinity is akin to a poison to her.

It makes her into a grotesque, testosterone-poisoned freak that physically cannot interact with anything around her without hurting it. It is the metaphorical confusion and fury of dysphoria made literal. It is the emptiness and lack of self that I myself can corrobate as a trans woman myself.

Masculinity is a curse for Equius. Much like quite a few other Homestuck characters (Dave & Jake come to mind), Equius really fucking hates being a guy.

So, this ties into my final point.

How I personally would have developed Equius had she been given the screentime to keep being relevant to the story.

The transfeminine character arc seems obvious. I believe that, if a person would be willing and able to tackle the more obscene and deliberately uncomfortable components of Equius' character, you could make an incredibly raw and interesting portrayal of transition and identity.

What's more; this is corroborated by Equius' closest relationship. Nepeta Leijon, the Rogue of Heart. The girl whose role indicates the ability to share identity and selfhood. Nepeta could very, very easily function as a catalyst for Equius gaining her own identity and being helped through the transition process. It makes an already STRONG and stable moirallegiance all the more interesting and heartwarming to witness.

This is not to say that Equius should not have agency herself, of course; an important part of this development would be the formulation of an independent self without debilitating outside influence. It would be allowing herself not to be consumed needlessly by Void.

Equius, and further relationship dynamics.

Equius' relationship with Gamzee (which I have always read as a one-sided kismesis) is also very important to me. This is not healthy. Equius is using Gamzee as a vessel for her fantasies and lack of boundaries, and through her black feelings she vents out her frustration with her sexuality and intrinsic need to obey and serve someone of a higher caste.

I don't think I need to tell any of you how well that works out once Gamzee goes sober. (I'd rather not dwell on the topic of the Makaras too long; that's something for a wholly separate post - and one that I'm sure would end up being rather scathing towards Hussie).

Finally, Equius' relationship with Aradia. This is also one I feel is unhealthy and once again one-sided. It is the same principle as Gamzee; merely in the red quadrant as opposed to the pitch one. Equius is using somebody as a vessel to vent out her feelings of purposelessness and frustration, and deliberately ignoring the lack of reciprocation.

Both of these connections are similar; and both of them end with Equius getting her shit kicked in.

How one would retool and treat these relationships post-character development is up to them, but I personally think it would be healthier for Equius to step away from both of them. I don't think Aradia would want or need Equius' continued presence in her life, and Gamzee is notoriously terrible at relationships. (We know damn well how a reciprocated blackrom with him turns out, just ask Terezi).

Equius, in conclusion.

That's all I really have to say on this matter; a long-winded and ultimately self-serving wall of text that I'm sure will come off as masturbatory and stupid when I read over it again. That being said, I wanted to lay all of this down in one place.

tl;dr - Equius Zahhak is a complex and interesting character with commentaries on teenage hypersexuality and unhealthy masculinity, and reading her as a trans woman provides an incredibly interesting character arc for her in the long term.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Fire Development

Recognizing each stage allows you to describe with accuracy how a fire can quickly increase; later we will discuss fire characteristics, which will provide you with an opportunity to describe accurately the visual features of a fire scene.

THE 4 STAGES OF FIRE DEVELOPMENT

Incipient Stage

Also known as ignition.

This first stage begins when all 4 components have resulted in a fire starting.

Easiest to control and extinguish, and given the right circumstances, may possibly burn out on its own accord before it has a chance to reach the second stage.

Growth Stage

Shortest but most sudden of the 4 stages.

Combination of oxygen and any nearby combustible material will fuel the fire.

As it progresses, gases will rapidly increase in temperature, resulting in a build-up of pressure in the room.

Fully Developed Stage

When all the combustible materials have been consumed, the fire is at its peak and will be fully developed.

At this stage, the heat will be immense, and because the room will be engulfed in flames, there will be little hope of escape or survival.

Decay Stage

If the fire is left, then this final stage will be the longest, as the fire gradually finishes its consumption – think of a bonfire that is left to burn.

The heat still remains intense, and will do for some time, which is why firefighters remain so long at a fire scene even after the flames have been extinguished.

The fire may continue to smoulder and there is a risk of pyrolysis occurring, which may result in a secondary fire.

Source ⚜ More: Writing References

EDIT

Stage One: Ignition

When the 3 elements of the fire triangle (heat, fuel and oxygen) are involved in a balanced chemical chain reaction, a fire begins.

Can also be classed as the incipient stage if the reaction is unbalanced, leading to smouldering, low temperature fire with no visible flames. This type of fire still gives off toxic gases.

The fire easiest to control and extinguish, or as close to this stage as possible.

Stage Two: Growth

The fire begins to consume the available fuel in the area or compartment.

Heat rises rapidly, and in an indoor fire a smoke layer forms at the ceiling, descending as more fuel burns.

Where present, active fire protection systems such as sprinklers or smoke alarms will activate, and passive systems such as self closing fire doors will protect escape routes. An escape should be made in this stage, as the fire will reach lethal temperatures during the growth stage.

Once the fire reaches a hot enough temperature, a transitional event called Flashover occurs. Flashover is where the heat of the fire is enough that all fuel in the room reaches a combustible temperature more or less simultaneously, including the particles of fuel in the smoke layer.

Essentially, the room erupts into a fireball all at once and if you're still in the room when it does, you've caught fire too.

Demonstration of a "Flashover" [video]

Stage 3: Fully Developed

Now all fuel elements are combusting, the fire is at its peak and is considered fully developed.

At this stage, the heat is lethal without specialist equipment to survive it.

Stage 4: Decay

This final stage will be the longest, as the fire gradually finishes its consumption – think of a bonfire that is left to burn.

The heat still remains intense, and will do for some time, which is why firefighters remain so long at a fire scene even after the flames have been extinguished.

The fire may continue to smoulder and there is a risk of pyrolysis occurring, which may result in a secondary fire.

Sources & additional resources: 1 2

Thank you so much to @hypocriticalhypothetical for the added information and corrections!

[reasonsforhope]

"A team at Northwestern University has come up with the term “dancing molecules” to describe an invention of synthetic nanofibers which they say have the potential to quicken the regeneration of cartilage damage beyond what our body is capable of.

The moniker was coined back in November 2021, when the same team introduced an injection of these molecules to repair tissues and reverse paralysis after severe spinal cord injuries in mice.

Now they’ve applied the same therapeutic strategy to damaged human cartilage cells. In a new study, published in the Journal of the American Chemical Society, the treatment activated the gene expression necessary to regenerate cartilage within just four hours.

And, after only three days, the human cells produced protein components needed for cartilage regeneration, something humans can’t do in adulthood.

The conceptual mechanisms of the dancing molecules work through cellular receptors located on the exterior of the cell membrane. These receptors are the gateways for thousands of compounds that run a myriad of processes in biology, but they exist in dense crowds constantly moving about on the cell membrane.

The dancing molecules quickly form synthetic nanofibers that move according to their chemical structure. They mimic the extracellular matrix of the surrounding tissue, and by ‘dancing’ these fibers can keep up with the movement of the cell receptors. By adding biological signaling receptors, the whole assemblage can functionally move and communicate with cells like natural biology.

“Cellular receptors constantly move around,” said Northwestern Professor of Materials Sciences Samuel Stupp, who led the study. “By making our molecules move, ‘dance’ or even leap temporarily out of these structures, known as supramolecular polymers, they are able to connect more effectively with receptors.”

The target of their work is the nearly 530 million people around the globe living with osteoarthritis, a degenerative disease in which tissues in joints break down over time, resulting in one of the most common forms of morbidity and disability.

“Current treatments aim to slow disease progression or postpone inevitable joint replacement,” Stupp said. “There are no regenerative options because humans do not have an inherent capacity to regenerate cartilage in adulthood.”

In the new study, Stupp and his team looked to the receptors for a specific protein critical for cartilage formation and maintenance. To target this receptor, the team developed a new circular peptide that mimics the bioactive signal of the protein, which is called transforming growth factor beta-1 (TGFb-1).

Northwestern U. Press then reported that the researchers incorporated this peptide into two different molecules that interact to form supramolecular polymers in water, each with the same ability to mimic TGFb-1...

“With the success of the study in human cartilage cells, we predict that cartilage regeneration will be greatly enhanced when used in highly translational pre-clinical models,” Stupp said. “It should develop into a novel bioactive material for regeneration of cartilage tissue in joints.”

“We are beginning to see the tremendous breadth of conditions that this fundamental discovery on ‘dancing molecules’ could apply to,” Stupp said. “Controlling supramolecular motion through chemical design appears to be a powerful tool to increase efficacy for a range of regenerative therapies.”"

-via Good News Network, August 5, 2024

[taylor-titmouse]

now that cadogan and his little guys are their own things i can explore freely, i want to talk a little about how they're made. lore subject to change of course, but the general idea i'm working from atm...

the in-universe term for what they are is "chimeric homunucli", but for ease i usually refer to them as cadogan's servants. they are not familiars. familiars are different. the three most basic components a chimeric homunculi must have are bones, blood, and semen. other elements can be added to better determine the form of the guy, but you won't get anywhere without those three things. bones are the scaffolding on which the body is built, blood forms the flesh, and semen provides the spirit. all three of these will have some effect on the personality and behavioral traits, but that mostly comes from the blood and semen. the blood imbues instincts, semen imbues intelligence and creative thought.

cadogan prefers to use gnome bones as his base because they're easy to get and because they make his creations conveniently pocket-sized. it's easier and safer for him to only make them big when necessary, with magic. for one thing it would require Significantly more material to make a full-scale creature, which is difficult to acquire and properly prepare. for another, they're much harder to control when big. obviously. if they were big all the time he'd never get anything done.

madog's basic components are gnome bones, manticore blood, and goblin jism. the manticore blood is where he gets his aggression and territoriality, and much of his strength when big. the goblin jism gives him the ability to think rationally and understand commands, and also the ability to work as part of a group. you'd never think it, but he's very good at teamwork. altogether he's a dedicated, completely loyal servant who'll take to tasks with vigor and gusto. good for a brute fighter to send out in times of trouble. he'd defend cadogan to the death. he also has manticore hair and imp wing membrane. these don't have any real effect on his personality or behavior, and are purely functional. the hair is to give him his fluffy appearance, the wing membrane is so he can fly.

myrddin's components are again, gnome bones, but also sea serpent's blood and troll jism. the sea serpent's blood attunes him to the water, giving him his hydrodynamic shape and skill at swimming. it's also given him patience and the instincts of a hunter that rarely feeds. he's not overly quick to action. the troll jism provides a greater intelligence than the goblin jism, closer to the level of a human. he is a much more rational thinker than madog, able to slow down and think fully through a problem rather than rush in to meet it. his secondary components are serpent fin and mermaid hair. these are almost entirely aesthetic, but the mermaid hair Does make him silky smooth to the touch and keeps wild animals from attempting to eat him.

and that's most of what i've thought out! before anyone asks, human bones + human blood + human jism would create an undead abomination and We Don't Do That. human blood and jism are alright to use but human bones are a taboo that crosses into necromancy. human wizards care less about the personhood of tailed species, so that's more okay (though it isn't really)

[stellarwhisper]

Random Astrology Observation

The fact that Mars is in the first house suggests that confidence, physique, and self-image are highly valued. These people appear to focus their energy on keeping up a powerful, alluring persona. Being eager to give people more self-assurance points to a helpful and inspiring personality.

Mars's position in the ninth house presents an exciting and daring image. The love of adventure, philosophy, and travel fits very well with this placement's expansive character. Extreme sports fervor is indicative of a will to push limits and experience life to the fullest. A desire to disseminate knowledge and a broader viewpoint are reflected in the goal of education and teaching. Adhering to specific values gives their approach more depth and makes the journey lively and meaningful.

Sagittarius Mars traits indicate a great dislike for anything that restricts their freedom or stifles their independence. They don't like to wait around and value efficiency, thus being on time is crucial to them. They cherish their autonomy, therefore any attempts to limit or control them may encounter opposition. People in this role may also become frustrated by unreasonable responsibilities and rigidity.

The variety of characteristics that people with Leo moons exhibit, from a difficult connection with trust to creativity, forgiveness, and a craving for attention and giving. The knowledge of their inclinations, driving forces, and educational experiences deepens the comprehension of this lunar positioning.

Even though it can occasionally come out as judgmental, Virgo Sun people's honesty is valued for its directness. Their readiness to be open about their true emotions and to offer candid counsel is indicative of their dedication to truth and authenticity.

People with Jupiter conjunct Moon are described as having a strong and alluring emotional presence. They seem to have a significant influence on people around them if they can control emotions and use their auras to create a spell. Through their artistic or intellectual endeavors, individuals appear to have secret knowledge banks that open up when they communicate their feelings. The secret to revealing the depth and richness within is found in the allure of their bursting emotions.

In fact, the 10th house in astrology is frequently linked to one's profession and public life. It stands for a person's reputation, accomplishments, and career goals. The planets and signs that make up the 10th house, along with any aspects that they may form, can provide information about a person's attitude toward their work, public persona, and desired global influence.

The depiction of Pisces Mercury in a relationship creates a lovely image of profound understanding of their partner and nearly psychic communication since they have sensitive energy to sense whether something is off. When words are utilized they will use it to bring out the most understanding and sensitive parts of their partner, they love a connection that appears to be a source of consolation and healing. They want their friendship or relationship to take on a lyrical and inspiring dimension due to their appreciation of arts especially music and they have the possibility of writing or even dedicating songs for their loved ones.

Mars in the seventh house frequently denotes a forceful and proactive approach to interpersonal connections. People that have this placement tend to be direct, aggressive, and passionate in their relationships. They can be looking for a companion who can have lively conversations and is just as vivacious. They might have a strong desire to take the lead in relationships and relish the excitement of working together on projects. Direct communication and a desire to resolve conflicts amicably are two possible components of conflict resolution.

Venus in the Ascendant, sometimes referred to as Venus in the First House, frequently improves a person's attractiveness, charm, and relationship style. People that are placed in this position typically have a friendly and cheerful disposition. They could be naturally magnetic, capturing the attention of others with their charisma or beauty. Their identity is greatly shaped by their relationships, and they may place a high importance on harmony and aesthetics in their self-expression. A great desire to establish and preserve lovely relationships in the social and personal domains may be present.

[vindelllas]

a brief exploration of the amatyakarakas 🍸

🍸note: any information regarding amatyakaraka placements should be treated lightly, as a good portion of these celebrities do not have verified birth information. i calculated all of the following celebrities with unverified birth times assuming they were born at noon their time!

🍸the amatyakaraka does not share the immense physical focus of the atmakaraka, but serves as the knight (amatyakaraka) to the king (atmakaraka), as it controls much of the labor/work of the chess of life. it is a karaka designed to aid you in picking a field or hobby that can allow you to fully express the passions of your graha. It is the helpful hand that guides you to who you truly are, in this post i focus on the overarching lessons of this placement.

brihaspati amatyakaraka

🌾 aesthetic: the liberation of the femme fatale

🌾 key components: shares similar characteristics to the femme fatale archetype of brihaspati atmakarakas, but inwardly is garnished with the liberated qualities of brihaspati. this is a placement of timing, expansion, and immense growth in the lens of one's work ethic. this is ultimately why these natives are known for their adventurous (and sometime controversial yet successful) business ventures, e.g. kendall jenner's "818" brand and lana del rey's controversies throughout her musical journey, which are centered around intrinsic learning via the external public eye.

shani amatyakaraka

🪐 aesthetic: the theater of love

🪐 key components: it shares the sensual hollywood starlet aesthetic of shani atmakarakas but this karaka's lesson lies in what they pour themselves into. they excel at possessing the drive and willpower to succeed in their respective fields, but are not without controversy in their private lives. this is emphasized by megan thee stallion's wrongful sh*oting, selena gomez's ex, nicki minaj's infamous husband, julia fox's former partner kanye west, etc.. their incessant focus on their future and work, often leaves much instability in their personal lives outside of their everyday routines.

surya amatyakaraka

🌞 aesthetic: the intersection of promiscuity and materialism

🌞 key components: this placement is similar to the materialism noted in surya atmakaraka natives, but is further heightened by this karaka's penchant for promiscuity. this placement's immensely influential nature and general desire to lead/test others can manifest as a form of sex*al temptation of those around them. from professions of acting to involvement in adult industries to modeling, there is a great need to shine their rays onto those around them. the dichotomy agni (the sun) being of purification and knowledge and soma (the moon) being water and nourishment come into play here. the sun wishes to purify and empower those around them through lessons of spiritual teachings. the general focus of the mouth in the photos of surya amatyakarakas is reflective of the mouth being the vessel of soma/the consumer of water. to achieve the purification of agni, you must first be watered spiritually.

kuja amatyakaraka

☄️ aesthetic: the mysticism confidence

☄️ key components: drawing upon the lessons of kuja atmakarakas, a certain confidence is emphasized within this placement. this confidence lies in taking immense risks and undergoing challenging situations for the betterment of your career, talents, and desires. this is evidenced by amber heard's career-challenging court case and jennifer lawrence's recounts and statements about w*instein. this placement is not without its controversy, but it is a placement of willingness to endure immense controversy for personal gain often without the lesson-emphasis of brihaspati amatyakarakas which results in much healing being needed later on.

buddha amatyakaraka

🌑 aesthetic: the ubiquity of feminism

🌑 key components: learning from the misunderstood lalita, this placement emphasizes a certain call to seeking maturation of the self through a higher power and intellectualism. this placement is symbolic of the overt dichotomy of girlhood-womanhood, these natives personify this experience through their accounts of the male gaze, longings for more expansion within themselves, and consuming all the external rays of others for the purpose of bettering and finding themselves (as buddha does to surya).

shukra amatyakaraka

🍓 aesthetic: the languish of luxury

🍓 key components: this placement indicates a certain affinity yet boredom of the luxurious properties of shukra. it causes many celebrities who grow into financial success to possess a coupled, sometimes delayed, distaste of the spotlight/fame. think of selena quintanilla who grew popular with ease compared to her latina musician counterparts but continued to maintain a relatability to the public (similar to cardi b who is still considered "surprisingly relatable" despite being immensely wealthy compared to the general public).

chandra amatyakaraka

🌙 aesthetic: the insatiable pitfalls of revolution

🌙 key components: these women often serve as role models to individuals through their presence in the media, but often serve as a lesson to the pitfalls that come with being "revolutionary". recall alexis ren who revolutionized mid-2010's social media and fashion yet struggled privately with her eating d*sorder. additionally, kaley cuoco was popularized for her role in "the big bang theory" yet too struggled with her eating habits. this is why some vedic astrologers theorize chandra to be associated with eating d*sorders, as yes soma seeks to nourish, but this nourishment (coupled with the drive/talent/profession denoted in the amatyakaraka) results in a potential for restricting soma (nourishment) to feel in control of one's surroundings--that is one's profession or environment.

🍸all of these placements were found using astrotheme/.com and/or astro-charts/.com. it is important to note that some chandra (moon) placements may be off by up to 6 degrees and lagnas (ascendants/rising signs) as well, due to the fact that many websites do not have 100% accurate birth times for the given celebrities.

🍸i am additionally offering readings again for a limited amount of time! if you are interested in a reading, please privately message me. thank you all for all of your patience! please expect the color analysis post soon since it won the poll <3

xoxo,

angel 💋

[serpentface]

!!!!!RISKY POST INCOMING!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THERE'S ILLUSTRATED EXAMPLES

Erotic art forms in Wardi culture largely center around a variety of visual arts and poetry.

Visual erotic art falls under a wide swath of materials, purposes, and uses. It ranges from art that exclusively intends to be pleasing to the viewer (while not necessarily outright Arousing) to art with utilitarian ritual functions. While Wardi culture has very strict standards and regulations around interpersonal Acts of sexuality, Depictions of sex (including acts that are frowned upon or severely taboo if actually performed) are not considered inappropriate or something purely for a private setting, and are something the average person is entirely accommodated to. As such, erotic art commonly has a place in everyday objects- drinking vessels, plates, oil lamps, pottery, etc- and in decoration- statuary, frescoes, textiles, mosaics, etc. It's not a Predominant theme, but most well-decorated homes will have at least a few erotic art objects.

There isn’t really a concept of 'pornography' in the sense of uniquely explicit art exclusively for the purpose of sexual gratification, but there are (often subtle) measures that distinguish a sort of ‘highbrow’ erotic art appropriate for public viewing (either in literal public areas, or in common areas of the home where guests can visit) and ‘lowbrow’ erotic art that is reserved for private areas of the home (and sometimes brothels).

This distinction revolves less around the explicit nature of the sex act, and more around What in particular is shown. Actual depictions of a spread vulva in a sexual context tend to be ‘lowbrow’ (note the distinction of the sexual context- some of the most common apotropaic motifs directly depict or heavily invoke a spread vulva). Visible depiction of the human anus is virtually always ‘lowbrow’, and is very rare in erotic art in general. Both organs are conventionally regarded as ugly, though the vulva has highly positive connotations of abundance and renewal while the anus is, at absolute best, a hole you can stick a penis into.

Depiction of sex acts seen as taboo or disgusting, inappropriate, (mutually) emasculating, or otherwise undignified occupy an ambiguous middle ground- too lowbrow for common public spaces, but appropriate in certain semi-public contexts due to their usually humorous and entertaining intent. Depicting shocking or widely mocked sexual practices often (at least ostensibly) seeks to elicit a comedic response from the audience. (Some examples on a diminishing scale of perceived severity- bestiality, rimming, a woman penetrating a man with a dildo, a man masturbating with a dildo, mutual fellatio between men, a man performing cunnilingus.).

---

The element of voyeurism is VERY significant to the Wardi concept of erotic art. Some art that wouldn’t even slightly be read as erotic by an outside viewer is squarely so by means of depicting people (usually women) in highly private domestic spheres which no one but close kin/spouses typically has access to. This can be evoked more easily and directly with women, who are expected to veil outdoors and in fully public settings, and to keep the hair braided everywhere outside of the private spaces of the home. This norm is strictly enforced among the upper classes and is followed fairly uniformly across class lines outside of the most extreme poverty (and some heavily rural settings). In a lot of instances, the only women any given person sees both without a veil and with unbraided hair on a regular basis (outside of their immediate family, or their wife) will be sex workers out in public. The depiction of a desirable, upstanding woman unadorned heavily implies the viewer's presence into a controlled domestic space (with undertones of sexual vulnerability), and has a distinctly erotic component.

It’s less the unbraided hair in of itself that is sexual (though this norm certainly leads to more people than average having sexual fixations on hair)- women in public with loose hair tend to be regarded more as lowly and unkempt than as objects of desire. The specific fantasy is that this is a woman of good standing in a private place and You are there, watching her.

In more explicit art, the hair being half braided during sex is a very common motif. It suggests that the process of the woman undoing her hair has been interrupted for sex, which can be compelling for viewers. It can imply her lover is so revved up that he could not wait once they both entered a private setting, as well as functioning as wish fulfillment in contrast to the tamer voyeuristic art- the viewer is no longer just looking in on the scene, but rather is invited to participate.

Depiction of a young woman noblewoman unbraiding and combing her hair, executed by a highly skilled pottery painter. While there is nothing overtly sexual in this image, this would be considered erotic art. The viewer finds themselves looking in on a highly private scene of an upstanding, sexually desirable young woman, in a physical state that would likely only be seen by a husband.

---

Art objects depicting actual sex acts are common and come in great variety. The vast majority depict men with women, but all gender combinations Can be within the sphere of 'highbrow' public art.

More work from the same painter depicting an older man and a beardless youth, who (for the sake of keeping this post up) could just be in a charged, artistically nude embrace for all you know. The youth is heavily implied to be a sex worker- he wears a short haircut typical of a teenage boy, but the presence of full sideburns indicate that he is well beyond puberty, possibly shaving a beard and keeping his hair short to maintain a youthful appearance. This visual performance is very typical of male sex workers, as means of attracting clientele predominantly interested in very young men. Though on the older side of the 'beardless youth' spectrum, his body is still conventionally desirable for a male partner. Neither the presence or the older man's cloak around his waist nor the youth's distinct lack of arousal is a desperate attempt to keep this post from being nuked (though my choice of this subject matter to begin with is), and instead represents actual artistic conventions. The older man's partly clothed state serves to dignify him in comparison to his partner and emphasize their difference in status. An unmistakable clarity of power differential is common in depictions of male homosexuality made for a mass public audience, allowing the image to be conventionally pleasing and attractive. Similarly, squarely 'highbrow' depictions of male homosexual acts tend to imply no sexual gratification on the part of a receiver, as the position is emasculating and shameful and this act is often described as being exclusively pleasurable for the top. The youth's function in this image is mainly to be a desirable male body and to glorify his partner in comparison. Depictions of more amorous/more power-ambiguous male homosexuality are conventionally acceptable, but largely relegated to the semi-private sphere, and are often intended and/or received as humorous in nature.

---

The above examples serve primary functions of pleasing the viewer with their imagery, but a wide swath of erotic art has simultaneous aesthetic and ritual/magical functions. Imagery in of itself is thought to have a degree of metaphysical power, and depictions of sex (and pregnancy/childbirth) on utilitarian objects often seeks to spiritually benefit the user in its use.

A decorative ceramic oil vessel featuring a coupling man and woman. The imagery of this vessel has, aside from the typical blank expressions, a distinct sense of tenderness, with the couple positioned close together and holding each other's bodies. The smear of white on their foreheads represents amenchalme, a sanctified substance used to give blessings. This heavily implies that this is a wedding consummation (as a full blessing of the couple occurs at the end of the ceremonies). The wife appears to be pregnant, which is unlikely to be an implication that she was married while already carrying (which is generally shameful outside of cases of remarrying widows), but rather intends to show the act and its successful result simultaneously. Lotus flowers (symbols of renewal and fertility) and a stylized version of the abundance character (here doubling as roots) decorate the body of the vessel. This is a multi-purpose erotic art object. It has aesthetic beauty but does not intend to be titillating. Its imagery evokes the hope for a happy marriage and the fertility of the couple. While not a specific ritual object, it may serve ritual and/or folk magic functions regarding fertility and childbirth in its usage. It might hold oil rubbed to soothe a pregnant belly, or to give in home offerings during prayers, all while imparting a sense of the blessings it suggests onto the user.

---

Other erotic art serves entirely ritual functions, with no concerns for pleasing or titillating the viewer. Genitalia in complete isolation is almost always squarely apotropaic in function- the phallus is a symbol of masculine protection and transformation, the vulva symbolizes abundance and renewal, and imagery of both are thought to have protective natures.  

Some simple imagery depicting human or animal mating has a sympathetic magical function (especially in folk magic, but also in some doctrinal religious practice) intending to compel fertility, conception, healthy pregnancies, and safe childbirth. The folk magic variants tend to be made by everymen who are not technically sophisticated artists. The concern is not aesthetic quality, but the magical functions of what is being depicted. These objects are also usually not intended to be actually seen, as they will be buried or hidden in a relevant location to work its intended effects.

A pottery shard used for folk magic. The artist has little technical artistic experience and is partly literate. They have drawn their best representation of mating horses, accompanied by logograms that translate to 'horse' + 'abundance' and '(animal) fertility'. This will likely be buried within the pasture they graze their horses upon, in hopes of influencing more matings and healthy pregnancies in their livestock.

Clay figurine used for folk magic. It similarly hopes to encourage conception, this time for humans. It could be for a specific pair of humans (in which case it may have their mingled blood baked into the clay, or be tied with their hair), or intended to benefit many. Writing may be present at the bottom- depending on the artist's literacy, it may contain anything between common logograms broadly communicating their wishes or a very specific idea (ie: "May my beloved wife Tsimanse Hippinoube conceive a son by me, and not by my wretched dogcunt of a neighbor Odebidinai Jannes (cursed be his name), and may her pregnancy be healthy and her birth be swift and safe, Odomache protect her and give her strength").

---

Wardi culture has a long history of poetic traditions, with its main two facets being epic and lyrical poetry (erotic poetry generally falls into the latter category). Being a talented lyrical poet is highly esteemed. Successful poets will have their works permanently recorded and disseminated for general use- read for entertainment at social events, weddings, ceremonies, and in private. Being a performer of poetry is its own field, and can be highly lucrative with skill, resources, and luck. Most professional performers are men, but learning to recite and sing poetry is a standard part of the education of most upper class girls as well as boys.

Erotic poems are generally a subset of love poetry, extolling the beauty of an object of affection or the speaker's desire (fulfilled or not) for them. Most erotic poetry revels in wordplay, avoiding direct descriptions of sexual acts in favor of cleverly implying them through careful wording and use of metaphor. These poems are considered entirely appropriate for public performance, though (unlike visual erotic art) the VERY high esteem of the poetic practice limits most conventionally accepted poetry to "highbrow" subject matter (it can be entirely explicit, but the acts and relationship dynamics it describes are relegated to cultural norms).

There's a separate subset of 'dirty' poetry (usually intended as comedic, though sometimes a form of invective poem), which mixes conventional flowery language with graphic sexual descriptions and heavy use of slang. Opinions are largely split on this variant, with the most socially conservative swaths of the population finding it to dishonor such a virtuous artform, with the less uptight response being "but its kinda funny tho"

The vast majority of successful poets are men, and most erotic poetry focuses on conventional targets of male attraction (primarily women, secondarily akoshos and beardless youths). However, erotic poetry can be one of the most accessible outlets to genuinely express un-socially accepted desires, especially due to the stylistic tendency to partly obscure its subject matter.

[noxturnalmoth]

What Could Have Been

Summary: Silco, the Eye of Zaun, the Industrialist, was first and foremost a son of Zaun who wanted his motherland free. After an altercation in which his adopted daughter shot him in a fit of rage, he is left dying while the world goes on without him. His life's work and ideals soon trampled to nothing as his memory fades from the world. But what if he was saved?

Warnings: Canon violence

Word Count: 15, 463

Masterlist: here

Chapter 6 - Catharsis and Ruination

After the meeting with Sevika, Silco had been more relaxed than you've ever seen him. A huge weight taken off of his shoulder after having poured all of his feelings out, and also at knowing his daughter was safe and cared for, building a life for herself out of the noise and healing. And that in turn made you so very happy, because his happiness was becoming your number one priority as time passed while sharing your life with him. Which was probably because of your ever growing feelings, but you'd ignore these until Silco inevitably notices.

Until he notices the stares, lengthening in duration, and the adoration coating each and everyone of them.

But how could you not admire him, not only his beauty but his strength as he carries your heavy components to spare you the extra work and save you time. His resilience, still managing to stand up and live even after all that he had survived, still managing to fight for what he thought was right. How controlled and composed he could be even if he was possessed by an all consuming storm, deep down in the abysses he refused to show anyone. But what you loved the most was how he placed himself in your hands when he was broken, choosing to heal instead of continue his stubborn and desperate ways. Broken shards of crystal put so gently in your hands, cutting you as you pieced him back together, but you didn't mind.

Not when he grew more gentle and kind, letting you peek at who Silco truly was. Not when your shared banter soothed your hard days, not when you proudly executed your plans of working Piltover's forces to the ground. Especially not when you fell asleep to his warmth in your bed, cradling you, hands brushing your hair.

But you had to hide it. For his sake.

He was rebuilding himself, a new life opening itself to him. And one day, he'd probably want his own space, be his own man without your help. And as much as it hurt, you resigned yourself to swallow it all down because being a friend was all you could really hope for, you were only a transitory period after all.

And if that's what you'd have to be, then so be it.

As the constant clinking of your hammer dictated the rhythm of your day, you find yourself working later than usual, letting Silco leave before you like many nights for the past two weeks. Creating molds, writing blueprints to carve intricate designs on metal, soldering articulations and mechanisms to escape the confines of your own mind, all to loud with infatuation.

Now that your dear friend isn't here the air is easier to breathe, mind clearer for but a moment before it spirals again. Both distance and proximity not helping with the tumultuous waters clashing in your heart.

The hammer is harshly brought down on the anvil, metal clashing against metal and shaping the red hot sheet. Your form leaning over it panting from the heat, exhertion and the constant emotional turmoil you've been facing for months now.

Sevika's arm was coming together, balanced to her body weight and size unlike the one Jinx had made her, the oxydized copper and dark, gunmetal steel entertwining in the distinct Zaunite designs you've grown up with. Harsh and industrial in their material and edges, jutting forward to cut at anything approaching, yet organic in shape, gothic and intricate.

It was nearly done, the outer plating was completed and only needed to be covered in the metal lace you've spent so many sleepless nights working on. The clawed fingers only needed to be assembled, the wrist joint soon to be attached while the plating of each knuckle is doubled with more lattice.

"You should rest."

Your body tenses at the touch on your shoulder as you direct the chisel currently in your hand towards the noise, quick and calculated although the movement itself was instinctual.

"Fuck, Silco. Give a little warning next time."

"I did, called out to you but you were unresponsive. I get that you want to help Sevika with her arm but something else is at play here."

His form approaches, looking at you with soft worry, as if scared you'd run away.

"Sorry, I've been in my head a lot lately."

"I've noticed, do you want to talk?"

You grab your soldering machine, your goggles brought down on your face by your other hand as sparks begin to fly about, fireworks in the palms of your hands as you pull the arm together.

"I guess that with the thing at Vander's statue and the talk with Sevika I've been...Realizing how close we're getting to a full on civil war."

"Does it frighten you?"

"Only a fool would feel no fear at something like this."

Your voice mumbles as joints, plates and intricate metal lace are interwoven, pieced together like a puzzle. And for a while it was silent, your thoughts sinking back into the dark recesses of your mind.

"And what's this?"

You turn around to find Silco holding a blueprint, one you've made with the hex crystal in mind. A circular pedestal with a round indent at the center, some grooves leading from it to the arches creating a dome over the contraption. A crank and button were linked to the main component on a smaller rectangular piece, to activate the machine and change the positions of each of the six wheels. On each of those were mirrors, small and circular in shape, that would be engraved with a rune yet you knew not which one just yet. Held up by four long pins was a cylindrical sheath, meant for a shimmer vial, placed right above the hex crystal's resting place.

"It's for Samira, gave her the arcane stone we found and she said she could maybe use it for treatments because it seems to help with certain mollecules. So I'm helping her channel it."

He nods, thumbs caressing the paper as he observed each intricacies, your writing thoroughly analyzed as he whispered each word scratched on the large page.

"Did you get started on it?"

You nod looking towards the side table and Silco walks towards it, the sheet covering the intricate machine soon taken off to reveal it half done.

"I just need to solder the parts together and find the right runes. Unfortunately I know no one capable of helping and going topside would be bad right now, especially since Jayce Talis disappeared and he was the only one capable of helping."

You mumble, the arm slowly yet surely taking shape between your expert hands. The calouses covering them being followed my more recent scars, some of them from today, crusted over by blood, soot and sweat.

"Two weeks."

You turn to Silco confused, the cloth at your hip used to wipe your sweaty face as he walks towards you, pushing your goggles up.

"You've been working, going on missions and doing all of this for two weeks."

"I'm fine."

"You look dreary. Do not lie to me."

You sigh as he grabs your chin, dehydrated and exhausted you couldn't help your head from lolling just a bit, leaning into his warm touch.

"Let me finish this at least, please Silco. I just need to put the elbow pieces together."

He huffs a soft breath, your chin freed from his grasp as he pulls your goggles back over your eyes, pushing your sweaty hair back from your forehead afterwards. His head nods to your workspace, prompting you to finish the soldering, moving the arm around and bending every joint to see if everything was up to standard. And with a groan you stretch, arms and back popping before you rip your goggles way, letting them hang around your neck.

"Let's go home, you grump."

"I'm only a grump because you're working too hard."

"Now, you're one to talk Mr.I've been a revolutionary since my teen years."

"Dove."

His voice thunders dangerously and you freeze in the doorway, shaking your head to get your control back yet grateful that the colored neon lights of Zaun hide the red flush of your face. You begin walking as he closes up, long strides easily letting him catch up with you

"What? I finished Sevika's arm, I'll have less work now."

"Now." He points out. "It still doesn't erase the fact you've spent even your days off at work. What about this project you told me about?"

"It's a part of it. The new contraption I mean. There are so many diseases stemming from Piltover's chemicals we could heal with something like that, Silco. Sump resistant plants are needed, and moss doesn't nearly make enough sap. But with enough of it and this crystal, we could create a healthcare system for Zaun."

"You are resting this weekend, I will not take no for an answer."

"I have to see Sami-"

"She can wait."

Silco's tone was flat, indicated he would indeed not accept any debate on his choice. When you two get to bed that night it feels heavy, the ever growing sentimentality you feel for him, your exhaustion overtaking you as you enter his embrace. You didn't even have time to caress his hair before you were dragged to the abyss of sleep, drowning in nightmares that felt more and more distant as Silco held you.

"Have you been to the northern fissures?"

He asks when you nearly crawl out of bed and to the table in your small kitchen, the bed way too good after barely sleeping for the past two weeks. Your already small nights smaller and your days off spent slaving away at the forge.

The only answer he gets is an unceremonial grunt as you slide in your chair, your breakfast soon put in front of you.

"Is that a no or a yes?"

"No." You sigh happily as you savour the flatbread and sautéed squid, spiced and seasoned to perfection as always. "I wasn't here when they were still open."

"Would you like to go?"

His question surprises you and you think before swallowing your bite with coffee, your cup prepared to your taste. Your eating habits engrained within Silco's clever mind from the time you two spent together.

"I'm up for it." And before your next question can pass the threshold of your lips realization lights your eyes up like the neons illuminating Zaun. "That's where you worked before, wasn't it?"

"Indeed."

"And you want me to come?"

"Not just to the mines. It's more...a specific place within it."

"An old haunt?"

He huffs softly, head bouncing in a soft nod while his hair follows the movement, untied and silky. And although you've always kept yourself from being intimate unless it was when the sun came down, in the alcove or in your bed, today your body moved before you could scold yourself into staying still. Body leaning forward held by your left hand, the right one brushing through his hair before pulling it behind his ear. And he looks at you like you brought air filtration to Zaun, your own lip worried between your teeth as you tried to keep his hair from falling back, making it as perfect as you could, his silence broken when he clears his throat.

"Something like that, yes."

He sounds breathless and you tilt your head in confusion before he nods to your plate, his good eye back to its usual half lidded nonchalance while he motions to your cooling breakfast.

"Sure, why not. Last time you brought me to a special spot to you we became friends, I wonder what will happen now."

You smile up to him, cheeks full of food while he scoffs, entertwining his hands as his elbows hold his arms up on the table and his face is hidden behind them, his eyes looking to the side.

"It's not that special."

He nearly mumbles, sound smothered by his hands.

"Is that place special to you?"

"Very."

"Then it is that special. And I'm glad you see me as worthy enough to share such an important place."

Silence settles between the two of you and you point to his plate the same way he had pointed to yours.

"You are."

Rings after a while, the sound bouncing off the walls.

"What?"

"Worthy. You are worthy, to me."

Your eyes gloss over, goosebumps lifting each hairs on your body, and your heart pumps your blood at inhuman speeds within your veins, skin becoming too hot too quickly. Your thoughts stopped and freezed into place, soon enough becoming blank. The small sweet sentence enough to force your whole being into a reboot for the exception of your heart, which was thrumming in elation at the words.

The only thing you can answer with, a smile stretching across your face slowly, before you two leave is something small and quiet. Demure enough in its dictation and cadence that it would have sounded like the Janna's blessing cutting through Zaun's narrow streets if it weren't for the utter silence in the room.

"You're worthy to me too."

The trek there was spent in relative silence, the busy streets serving as back drop until the noise faded into mechanical whirrs and soft whistling. The structures of the northern fissures abandonned and the houses less populated and quieter the closer you got to the mines.

The strong smell of metal, rust and humidity dampening your senses as you enter the dark cave, taking apart some planks and pulling them back in place, the light from outside disappearing and leaving you and Silco in the dark. That's when you jump, a loud clap bouncing off of the walls and illuminating the stone path, your friend looking at you smugly.

"What?" The light dims again and this time you clap, revelling in the way the fungi around you glow, crouching to pat one in wonder. "I've never seen those before!"

Silco is right behind you, bending at the waist to look over your shoulder, as he chuckles, voice sweet and gravelly as he looks fondly to the mine's tunnel.

"They only grow in the mines, the chemicals bond with some of the metals here and fungi gain this bioluminescent quality to them."

You pick a few of the big bulbous mushrooms and put them in your satchel, wiping your now slimy hands on yourself while Silco sighs.

"What? I need to bring back more plant samples to Samira and those seem full of sap. I can't work on y-" You stumble over your words quickly. "-the first type of antidote, without a good enough amount of this. Although I don't know if it'll work, but it's better than nothing, trial and error and all that."

You get back up and turn to Silco who has his eyebrows raised inquisitively and you pray to Janna that your rant made him forget about your little slip up. Your hands clap and you two continue to make your way, further and further down the winding paths.

That's when you notice.

"Silco, is anything still happening in those mines?"

"No, they're abandonned, why?"

You point to your right, claw marks littering the wall and ground. Your eyes follow them and you clap louder.

"Is that where we need to go?"

He nods, face grave and good eye narrowed. There were no grand signs of panic coming from him yet you could see the tension in his shoulders, the clenching of his jaw and his hands clenching and unclenching as if preparing for a fight.

"Let's go."

"It could be dangerous. I wouldn't want to risk-" He takes a sharp breath and shakes his head. "We don't have to go."

"Well, I want to. This place is important to you, so let's go."

You take his hand, his whole form rattling in surprise at the touch. Whenever the lights dimmed, you would make a small noise, loud enough to make the fungi glow with life, not enough to bounce off of the cavernous walls and start a headache. And after a moment of walking, Silco now back to leading you while his hand remained in yours, you gained an idea.

You knew that miners were superstitious to a certain extent, believing in the goddess Janna more than most along with those from the Sump. And growing up you would hear chants, now engraved in your heart you thought it to be a better way to illuminate the plants leading your way instead of ringing noises.

"Bey'fet ihru ga, Ahuni lek'cho."

The way lights up.

Beyond these walls, the Storm's fury grows.

Silco's hand squeezes yours, a small nostalgic smile growing on his face as you look at him. So you squeeze back, eyes observing the growing beastly marks on the surfaces of the tunnels as lights dimmed.

"Bey'un habbab, Ahuni lek'cho."

Albeit the growing concern of the ruined tunnel, clawed left and right, you two advance, steps assured yet hands clasped to one another's in comfort.

Over the seas (and land), the Storm's fury grows.

It was strange how the sound of the chant ricoché'd in the long stone corridor, sounding almost like you weren't alone singing, like this place was not nearly as quiet as you thought it was.

What was also strange was how you weren't scared and neither was Silco, his form more relaxed than when you had first observed the claw marks and so were you. Was it the song, reminiscent of something real and concrete that could root you back into reality. Or maybe it was Silco's presence. You knew your lack of fear could be attributed to the latter, the former only exacerbating the effects of it. Yet you couldn't help but hope deep down that you were the cause for his comfort too.

"Suhbi al naa yih.."

Rings when the dark swallows the two of you, Silco's voice soft and nearly whispered, a soft rhythm cadencing his words into a song.

The blue bird exists and thus...

The tunnel illuminates, the smile on Silco's face growing and showcasing chipped crooked teeth, watered by your own surprised expression also morphing in a toothy smile. His eyes, shining with mirth and something more tender, were still trained forward to a quickly approaching wooden door. Yet you could see them leaving the path to observe you, the lights dimming as your cheeks flushing red.

"..Kha aademas auja."

I fear nothing.

You answer, lighter in tone, the lights around you shining only dimly, enough for you two to walk to the doorway. That's when you notice the small golden glow from inside, your hands gripping one another's tighter before separating. Your own reaching for your Noxian knuckle blades, the same ones that you had been using for nearly a year now, polished and sharpened to perfection. While Silco takes two daggers in hand, he nods to the door and you step back, knocking it down with a heavy kick.

You immediately zero in on the now black haired girl, eyes blazing in anger at the recognition.

"I told you not to come back here girl!"

Her eyes widen as your body staddles her, blades at her throat, body tensing.

"I'm sorry, I promise I have a good reason!"

That's when two metallic clanks resound in the room, a choking breath, then a shaking sob following them. You glare at Violet as you turn, Silco was standing straight with a long blue haired girl gripping him tightly. The small brown haired child from the revolt at the Lanes, her locks now changed from a soft brown to a bright yet patchy blue, looking confused between the two displays.

"You can let her go."

Silco breathes out, arms reaching around his daughter and you sigh, getting off of the older sister and sheathing your blades back in your belts. You show your hand to her, beckoning her to take it so you could help her up.

"Looks like you're good for now, Violet."

"How-"

"Later."

You nod at her before moving to the child, remembering her name from your meeting with Sevika. You crouch with a friendly smile and take her mining helmet away, ruffling her hair before placing the hard hat back on her small head, the kid laughing at the ministration.

"You must be Isha, are you alright kiddo? You've pulled quite the stunt last time at the reunion."

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion before nodding, a grin stretching across her face, her arms embracing you softly and quickly before she pulls back.

"Dad, how...how did you survive?"

"Let's sit down for that, poppet."

And sit down you all did, Jinx looking at you suspiciously while you settle down next to her father, Isha on her lap as she sits and Vi to her side leaning against the wall.

"You're alive.."

"I am."

"Why didn't you come back to me? I thought I-" Jinx trembles, her eyes glossing over as she gazes at Silco's hand reaching around your shoulders, bringing you closer to him.

"Because I have learnt that I had caused too much damage, too much death. And that killing is a cycle that only walking away can break." He sighs, his thumb rubbing your shoulder as his other hand reaches for his daughter's face. "I have hurt you, you know that?"

"I know but, you were-"

"The best father I could be with the way I am. I know poppet. But I have made you a weapon, I aided in ruining your already fractured mind. Although I gave you a roof and as much love as I could, I dragged you down with me as I sank into my very own abyss. I'm sorry Jinx."

"You abandonned your dream! You left Sevika and I to pick up the pieces of your empire, the one you built and burnt to the ground yourself!"

Jinx's face leans into Silco's hand, yet her lips tremble, confusion and anger, sadness and fear tainting her face.

"I have left the empire I built as the Eye of Zaun, yes. But I haven't abandonned my dream of a Nation for all of us. My friend and I have been quietly working towards it, her for longer than I have, and I just followed in her steps."

Everyone's eyes shift to you and you nod as a greeting, your name slipping from your lips, preferring Silco to talk in this situation.

"She was there when it all happened, and saved me from the goodness of her heart. She helped me heal, in more ways than one, even when I was more than undeserving of it. She gave me a place to stay, and honest insight into my own mistakes. She's welcomed me in her life, in her work and in her rebellion. I would not be here now if it wasn't for her."

"That doesn't make you a good man." Scoffs Vi, Silco takes his hand away from Jinx and nods solemnly.

"Indeed, and I do not pretend to be. All I can do is be better. If I didn't, I know she would have been the first to set me back on the right path." Silco's voice rumbles. "Or to beat me into it."

You chuckle, the sound calling his eyes to you, the ever so soft gaze melting you as it always does. It seems to shock Jinx and Vi who look to one another with amused yet distraught faces.

"You bet I would have, you fossil."

His laugh rings in the shabby wooden room.

"Are you two..In charge of the Children of Zaun then?"

"Yes, Vi. Are you still an enforcer?" You answer back, eyebrows raised and gaze trained to the giant mechanical gauntlets behind her.

She scoffs. "No, turns out stopping Cait from shooting through Isha to get to Jinx is good enough of a reason for her to go Noxian dictator on us."

"That was the reason?"

She nods sadly, the affection in her eyes broken by such pain that you knew exactly what had happened.

"The things we do for love, right kid?"

"You can say that again."

"The things w-"

Silco takes the hand around your shoulders to your mouth and you snort, the room's tension dissipating as everyone followed you. You take the hand off, entertwining your fingers with Silco's. A gesture to calm yourself and be closer to him, hoping to Janna he would let you be so intimate, yet also that he'd build distance between you two to not let you fall into delusions. He lets it happen, squeezing once, your heart replicating the movement in shackled adoration.

"And you Jinx, how have you been?"

The girl's pink eyes snap to yours curiously, a pinch in her eyebrows showing shock at your care towards her.

"I've been...alright, better."

"So I've heard. Your dad's been really worried about you, you know? But we saw Sevika two weeks ago, she told us little bunny over there has been helping you." You scrunch your face at Isha who giggles. "I'm glad you found someone to live for, everyone needs something to push them forward."

"And you've been helping, dada."

She mumbles and you smile at her, one hand reaching to ruffle her hair.

"To the best of my ability, you know how your old man is kiddo."

"Commanding?"

"I was going more for cantankerous, stubborn and annoying. But why not?" You smirk and she cackles, your hand retracting to push away Silco's that escaped yours, pinching at your waist. Yet it remained there, softly soothing the bite it had delivered.

"I'm not all that bad anymore, am I, dove?"

Your lips twitch and you turn your head away, shaking it as if you were disappointed simply to hide your blush.

"You're a confident one."

"Oh shut up." He barks a laugh.

Jinx and Vi tense at the noise, eyes widening at Silco before looking at you like you grew two more heads.

"Where is Silco and what have you done to him?"

"What the f-"

You raise your eyebrows at the older girl. "Language."

She purses her lips before shaking her head incredulously, Jinx giggling, reaching to you both with a paper in hand and presenting it to Silco.

"I think you might want to read that, Silco."

"Yes, I...It's from Vander, from way back when..." The younger girl continues.

Your friend takes the letter, the hand at your waist squeezing as his eyes fly through the words.

Silence.

Even as his grip becomes borderline painful, you make no noise to disturb it.

Even as the letter crinkles in his grip.

"This..."

"Could've changed everything? Yeah, that's what we thought aswell."

"Why...?"

You gently take the paper from his grip and read it.

I’ve looked everywhere, but it’s clear you don’t want to be found. God I’m shit at this. I’m sorry. When she died…I lost my head. I told myself what I did to you was for the greater good, that you deserved it, but the dirt was on both our hands. Anyways, you know where to find me.

Blisters and bedrock.

V.

Indeed, it could've changed everything. If Silco had found this back in the day, when he was still freshly hurt and untainted by his pain. No matter how clumsy the words are, they convey enough guilt that you knew Silco would have at least heard Vander out. Even if he wasn't forgiven. But after spending so much time with the man, and knowing how profoundly he loves, you know he would have.

So you fold the letter and put it in his pocket, turning towards him and cradling his face. Your breath shaking as you try to look into his eye.

"Do you need time?"

"I'll be fine, I simply-"

"Everything could have been different, but what point is there in drowning in what ifs, Silco? What's done is done, what happened, happened. You've forgiven Vander long ago, and I'm sure that he would have too, given the time. Seeing who you've become now."

"Are you sure?"

"Certain."

Your right thumb caresses his scarred cheek quickly, barely holding yourself back from embracing him with all the love you held for him, before returning to your place, Silco's hand softening around you.

"Why are you two girls here?" You question, leaving Silco to his thoughts.

"Vi here was ruining herself, drinking and fighting after Cait-"

"Jinx." The sister groans.

"And when Isha had been caught, Sev and I went to get her at Stillwater...But there was something there. A beast who killed and destroyed everything in its path. And I promise I'm not lying when I say it's Vander! He said my name! He called me Powder and got out of his murderous transe then he just left!"

The hand around you clenches yet again, Silco's breath shifting to a faster, more chopped cadence. Your hand covers his softly.

"A beast you say?"

"I know it sounds mad but I'm not lying! Something happened to him! I swear!"

"I trust you Jinx." She stops her panicked rambling, Isha holding her close for comfort and her eyes glazed over yet again.

"You do..?" She sounds fully disbelieving.

"Of course, I'm your father's friend and I trust him, so if he trusts you so do I. You're not a bad kid, you just did bad things and I know you regret them. Trust me, I'd know what being a monster is and you're far from being one."

Your smile relaxes her tensed body, Violet looking at you with a faraway look while her face softens into something akin to gratitude and nostalgia.

"So you came because...you thought Vander would come here when he broke out of whatever he was controlled by?"

Jinx nods, not trusting her words.

"And you wanted your sister to come, so you could both reunite with him?"

Her eyes trail to Violet who smiles softly.

"We've seen the claw marks in the tunnels, we trust you Jinx. Your father and I."

The girl sniffles and slides Isha off of her lap, the child walking towards you cautiously and setting herself on the table next to you with your help, hand momentarily leaving Silco's.

"And you?"

"I...wanted to show her this important part of my life." Finally speaks the man, his voice the slightest bit shaky yet reverting back to its controlled tone.

"She has become the most important person for me now, and after seeing and apologizing to Sevika it only felt right to bring her here."

Your heart clenches at his words, you knew he only meant that you were a close friend yet you couldn't help but find it in his tone that he could be more. A delusion perhaps, fueled by the time spent together and his vulnerability, yet something that you couldn't simply gloss over as your hand clenches around his.

"You apologized?"

Vi says incredulously and Silco nods solemnly.

"And I should apologize to you too Violet. I've made your life a living hell, and I know I can take none of it back. But if you ever need anything, consider it done. You don't have to forgive me, not now and not ever if you do not find it in your heart to. Just know that I'll spend the rest of my life atoning for my actions to you and allof those whom I've hurt."

"Wait. Does that mean you were there when the strike team.."

"Yes. Dove here was not only agressive because of what Kiramman did to our people but also because she was keeping you from finding me in the back. She was, once more, my shelter. I owe her my life and so much more, I believe it'd be impossible to repay it all."

You shake your head, elbowing him softly as you try to shake off the way you melted as he said the nickname that he's found for you.

"You already do more than enough Sil."

"I don't believe that's true."

"You don't have to. It's the truth."

You smile and Silco gently grins back, pushing his hips away from the wooden table, his hand caressing you as it leaves its spot on your waist and touches the table. You have half a mind to pursue his touch yet decide against it, body stiffening at the inner conflict. His svelte form approaches two jackets hung on the wall. Grabbing the smaller one he sighs, slowly taking off the one he wears before putting the dustier one on. It fits him perfectly, and you melt at the sight.

It was his old jacket.

He reaches to the other one, placing the one he wore prior on the hanger. Slowly, he turns and approaches the table once more before reaching for your shoulders. Your heart stammers in your ribcage as he slides your coat down your shoulders, your hands twitching and stare darting all over his face as he does so. And when it's off, he gently places the larger jacket on you.

"It fits you."

Silco's voice is nearly imperceptible and you almost swoon and jump into his arms, instead choosing to grab at the leather. The smell of humidity, metal and dirt clinging to it like seafoam on the shores of Ionia. Your eyes find his teal one, the burning orange still hidden behind its eyepatch, and you break just a bit at how he looked at you. It was chaotic, yet soft, something you couldn't decypher yet that had your stomach bursting with firelights, warming you from the inside.

"Guys, he's not here, let's just go."

The moment is broken by Vi and you nod, sighing both in relief and in dejection as Silco steps away. Isha jumped off the table and took your hand, dragging you towards the door and letting a huff of laughter leave your lips as you follow her, the two sisters behind you.

The two girls argue softly behind you, talking about how Jinx had lied again, about Vander's survival, and Jinx defending herself. The child at your side jumping between the sisters before Violet pushes her away, unknowingly throwing Isha to the ground, her small hand scraping against a rock.

"Are you okay little one?"

You ask, crouching next to her and observing her hand. She was bleeding a small bit, and without thinking much you pull a small bandage from one of your many pouches, kissing the small wound before putting the small plaster on it.

"There, all better."

Meanwhile Silco is trying to de-escalate the arguement, softly talking to the two stubborn girls and taking the side of neither. Showing just how much he's grown from an overprotective and blinded parent, to a responsible father even to the child he didn't raise. The older sister now his daughter by proxy from having been his best friend's child, then his brother's, but also Jinx's sibling.

That's when the you heard it, the faraway sound of something approaching. Something big. The lights dimming to nothing but pitch black as the sound gets closer.

You guide Isha behind you, hands reaching for your blades and Silco standing next to his daughter with a protective arm placed in front of her. Violet moved in front of all of you, gauntlets glowing with arcane energy as she gets ready to attack whatever rushes at you, your own form tensing behind her.

"I got your back Vi."

"Thanks, Mrs. Silco." She glances at you from over her shoulder.

You stammer and she smirks, turning back forward. Jinx calls out to her as red light appears in the tunnel, pleading her sister not to hurt the beast currently rushing towards you, snarling violently as if starved. And Vi punches him, you in tow using the knuckle parts of your Noxian blades to push the monster back.

"Don't hurt him!"

Yet as the beast zeroes in on Isha, Violet and you pushed pack with another flurry of punches. Your bodies thrown back at a violent sweep of his claws, you taking the blunt of it as you rushed in front of the girl. Silco holds you close in his arms from your crumpled position on the ground as the gauntlet wielding woman gets back into position.

"Vander!"

The monster closes in, and as you think the older girl will attack again, preferring to protect you all rather than bet your lives on a story, she drops her hands.

The room grows dark again, not even illuminated by the red of the beast's...you wouldn't even know what to describe what was on his back. Some sort of pump, full of a glowing crimson liquid. Probably an artificial heart to animate the, what was meant to be, dead man.

Silco holds you tighter.

"Are you okay, my dove?"

You nod in stupor, clinging to him as Jinx gets up, flicking a lighter on as she holds Isha close. Wandering in the dark, walking towards where Vi and Vander's ghost had been. Her breath is heavy and stuttering, searching for her sister and father in the dark. When the dust clears, you see it.

The beast glows green.

The violent red replaced by a peaceful tone reminiscent of Zaun's neons as Violet holds the monster's neck tight, the larger creature softening in her hold. A hand is over her back, cradling her neck protectively as she turns around, a hand held out invitingly.

"What are you waiting for? He's your dad too."

Jinx sobs, shaking in disbelief before dropping her lighter and rushing to Vander and Violet. You grunt, getting up with Silco's help before joining the girls, Isha clinging to you in fear and wonder at the sight in front of you as she seeks comfort in your touch.

The beast grows restless as it sees Silco, yet as it observes you held so gently at his side, it grows confused.

"It's been so long, brother." You hear from your friend, fear freezing you at the thought of Vander attacking, yet Silco's warmth melting it back.

"Hello Vander." Your voice is small. "I promise we'll explain everything."

Duochrome eyes dismantle the sight of you before his arms open wider and you smile, pushing Silco forward as you stayed back with Isha. The man stumbling in his old friend's grasp as sobs rack through him. Silent, yet strong enough for you to notice the shuddering of his back. Yet his hand grabs yours, pulling you and Isha in the embrace. The warmth of such unbridled love enough to have you crying too, included in a family you were never a part of yet were accepted into.

You don't know how much time was spent in each other's arms, crying, mumbling apologies and I love you's, before you pull away. Still holding onto Silco's hand you turn to the man, his hair out of his usual bun, face struck with so many emotions yet everyone of them was clear. Relief, sadness, guilt, shame.

"You were right." You hear from behind you.

"I know it sounded insane bu-"

"It doesn't matter, Jinx. You were right, and I'm sorry for doubting you. I'm sorry for everything."

Violet holds her sister tight and Vander's gaze turns to you and Isha once more.

"Vander, this is Isha. She was taken in by...Powder" You say the name softly, looking at the girl who nods, her eyes looking at you in approval. "She helped your daughter a lot and in turn your daughter helped her." You explain softly, smiling at the creature. "And I'm Silco's friend. I...Helped him back on the right track, you could say."

"She saved me from death, brother. And set me straight, made me a better man. I know you and Felicia would have loved her."

"I was way too young to know all of you back then, Sil."

He looks at you fondly, lips pursing back a smile.

"Perhaps, my dove."

He turns back to his brother in time for you to release a deep breath. Janna, this man didn't know what he was doing yet it seemed like he did. And you hated that you loved it, the self-satisfied yet kind look in his eyes as he said that word in his dulcet tone.

As all six of you make your way out of the mines your eyes trail off to the side, a large tarp covering an entrance to a branching tunnel and you get an idea. You walk towards it, hand leaving Silco's who looks at you in confusion, and rip it from its place in the wooden frame.

"What are you doing?"

"Well, do you want enforcers on our asses for dragging a gigantic man beast. Sorry Vander." You turn to him and nod in apology, the man huffing in acceptance. "So let's at least cover him. We'll bring you guys to my shop."

"You have a shop?" Jinx asks from behind Vander's hulking form.

"A forge, yes. There will be enough space to house him until we think about what to do."

You throw the large fabric over Vander, Violet helping you wrap it around him from the other side. The beast holding it close to himself and covering his head.

"Are you comfortable, Vander?" The man nods, another puff of air escaping him.

"We'll close up shop." You hear from behind you, Silco looking pensive. "She's overworked herself and was long overdue for a vacation."

You turn, an jokingly idignant look permeating your features.

"Hey if you're too old to work hard just say it Sil. Don't pin it on me." You tease as he scoffs.

"I'm not the one who woke up four hours later than usual and looked like death, this very morning."

You roll your eyes as he slips his hand in yours again, dragging you forward and the group following after.

The way to your shop was riddled with curious stares, yet as people saw Silco and you aswell as the blue haired girl, they nodded. Respect pouring from their forms as they turned away, blind to your group while you walked to the forge. Entering it and closing the metal blinds behind you, forge soon illuminated by the hearth's flame, Isha helping you haul wood there all too happily. Each time she would bring back a small bundle you'd pinch her cheek lovingly, a small kiss delivered to a new part of her face and she'd giggle on her way back to get more fuel.

In the back, Silco is sitting next to Vander, Violet on the other side of the bigger man and Jinx on the table in front of everyone, observing and quipping at times. The energy she was known for nowhere to be seen. Yet you can understand why, discovering two of the fathers she lost are still alive and that both have drastically changed, one more than the other. Along with her past and her newfound responsibilities as the face of Zaun's rebellion and parent to Isha, you could understand why she's changed so much from the loose canon she used to be.

You set yourself next to her, hips leaning against the table before bending to take Isha in your arms, the girl clinging to you and Jinx talking next to the both of you.

"All I'm saying is that there must be a way to change him back! Or at least to make him I don't know...Vander again! Without anymore of those freak outs!"

"We'd have to find the reason for those sudden changes, though." Silco leans back on the couch, arms draping over the back.

Isha shuffles around in your grasp and you get off of the table, placing her next to Jinx. That's when you look down at her hands, brushing yours against them, that you realize what the reason for Vander's rage could be.

"Blood." All eyes turn to you.

"Violet pushed Isha away while she was arguing with Jinx, and the kid scraped herself on a rock. She bled and it's only after that, that Vander rushed to the mines."

You show the child's injured hand, the bandage on there taken away so you could clean it again before you put a new wrap on it. The girl hugs you, her face nuzzling right under your chest. The older sister turns to you and you break from the embrace, going to lean against the wall.

"But we can't know for sure."

"We can."

You take Silco's dagger out of your pockets, the same one he had gifted you over a year ago, and flick it open, spining it between your fingers.

"No."

"Silco.

"Dove." He gets up from his spot to approach you, his pace panicked "I'm not letting you put yourself in danger, even if Vander is himself now, your method could work and tick him off and you could get gravely hurt. You will not try it."

"Then we'll never know! We need to know what triggers him to know what to avoid! I mean maybe my blood won't even work because so many people bleed at once, maybe only the blood spilled by people somehow important to him can get him angry!"

"For Janna's sake, you are important."

His voice bounces from every wall yet he doesn't yell, his words are harsh, clipped and hissed with the concern and care of his eyes softening his agression.

The room was so silent that Vander's deep breaths could be heard.

Violet is standing up from the couch, fists clenched and body tense as she seems to want to come and protect you. Jinx holding Isha with a soft gaze trained towards you, Vander's heterochromatic eyes looking at you in a similar fashion.

And for all the hope it gives you, at how concerned Silco is and at how everyone seems to react to it, you'd rather not imagine why their gazes are that way lest you fall into delusions again.

"Silco?"

"You are taking the week off, and you are not executing your little plan. Promise me."

"Sil-"

"Promise."

His voice grows more and more gentle, one hand sliding up from your shoulders to hold your chin and direct your gaze to his.

"Promise me, my dove."

And under his gaze you crumble, the touch, the nickname, the tone of voice and his form hiding yours from the others' inquisitive looks are enough to leave you flushed. Shaking you nod.

"With your words."

"Yes."

His eyebrow arches, lips pursing in discontent, the marred side of his face twitching.

"Yes, Silco."

And with that he sighs, his hand caressing your chin as he leaves the room under the excuse of going to buy dinner, and you breathe heavily, ragged and fast.

"So...how long have you two been together?"

"What?!" You turn to Violet, expression disbelieving.

"You're...not?"

"No! Why would he-" You purse your lips and straighten. "We're not together. We aren't. We're just friends. He's just changed, that's all."

A scoff is heard from the table, Jinx barely holding back a laugh. her blue hair moving with her like flowing water from the Frelljord.

"Well then he must be pretty stupid!"

"Jinx, that's your father."

"Riiiight, sorry mom."

You groan, dragging yourself to a chair and slumping on it, face on the table. Your blush spreading through you like wildfire, the teasing only making it worse.

"Let's just not."

"Even Vander thinks it."

"Well I can't hear him teasing me so that's fine by me. Sorry Vander." A huff answers you, almost sounding like a chuckle. "Oh f-.. shut it."

"Men are stupid. That's a given." A pat's given on your back, Violet's warmth seeping through the heavy miner's jacket.

"And women too apparently."

"You can say that again."

"And wom-" She smacks the back of your head and you sigh out a laugh, a hand raking through your hair as you sit up straight. "Really though, let's not."

"You're torturing yourself liking a man like that." And to your surprise Jinx nods along.

"I know girls, don't remind me."

A small hand pats your hair and you look forward to see Isha smiling at you, making humming noise and you grin back.

"How could we help Vander though?" Vi sets herself next to you.

"His body might not be salvageable. From what I know his death could very well have destroyed his body, so this may be what we have to work with." Jinx gazes towards where you are, Isha crawling into your lap from hers.

"But who could help?"

"Dada knew a man, Singed. Tall, burnt, very creepy. He made shimmer. He saved my life too, he could-"

Vander's growl stops her, all eyes pinning him like darts on a board, he looks restless and his eyes are swirling with so many feelings you couldn't even begin to fathom. Pure unbridled fear is what rolled out of him in waves, and so it was clear to all of you then that Singed was not an option.

Then you remember, so many rumors coming from clients, words whispered on the streets of a healer. Many refused to believe such a thing as you were in Zaun and a magical, kind being offering their help without demanding anything in return was bound to be a scam. At best, you would go back home naked, destitute of all your possessions. As for the worst? You would either have no home to come back to, or no life animating your body.

Miracles were a gamble, even more so in Zaun where you were ground 0 to test all of what seemed to cruel or inhumane to try on any other human.

Yet over the past year this mysterious healer had gained a following, apparently rallying and helping those in need where you originated from. The Sumps.

The lowest, poorest and most dangerous of the levels in the Undercity. Where those who have nothing live, praising Janna for a blessing that you now knew would never come.

Or would it?

People came back changed from this healer, or never came back again. Describing a kind, soft spoken man draped in dark blue, his long hair caressed as if he carried the Winds with him, a scepter of marble and gold held within his ethereal, indigo grasp. Eyes a kaleidoscope that could see through your very being, separate soul from body and pick apart every emotion, every atom, before pulling them back together, better than before.

You feared a cult, a hidden scheme, yet seeing Jinx and Violet now clinging to Vander as he held them close, Isha pulled along in the beast's lap; you couldn't help but want to believe. When you saw Silco's walls crashing down, sobbing in his brother's arms with abandon, his emotions seemingly less in his control.

You couldn't help but hope.

And hope was all a Zaunite could ever do with the life they were dealt with.

Hope for financial stability, a roof over their head, clothes on their back, food in their belly, love if life allowed them and a child if the gods were generous. Hope was all you could afford, fear was all you were awarded.

And on the cusp of a civil war, a revolution, you needed more than simple hope. You needed a concrete sign.

So when Silco comes back you propose your plan to smuggle Vander down to the Sumps, and meet this man. The Singed man not an option you could explore due to the man-beast's restlesness at the mention of him. And Silco looks conflicted, just like you imagining so many bad outcomes for his dear friend, this healer capable of bringing him back or take him away from the lithe man's grasp again, him and both sisters left behind like before.

Yet the more you talk and resonate, the more you see the gears and cogs of their minds turn, analysing and pondering every word flowing from your lips. You had nothing much to lose anymore and Vander needed to be stable, maybe then some of the ever growing tension that was generated by the inter-city conflict could be erased. Leaving your minds clear and ready for the approaching fight.

The war readying itself right under your eyes.

So food was quickly consumed, the afternoon having passed and the evening quickly rolling by.

"Vi and I will sleep here with Vander. You take Isha with you for a nice bath and a soft bed."

You nod at Jinx, and although it takes a bit more time to coax the little girl into coming with Silco and you, she eventually does. So you close up shop and bid goodnight to the two girls already holding their father close, a soft yet sad smile growing on your face, watered by the bittersweetness of the moment.

Isha holds your hand as you walk back home, jumping up and down yet slowing down until she comes to a stop, exhaustion overtaking her after such an eventful day.

"Come on darling, let's get some rest yeah?" She nods, your arms slipping around her as you carry her the rest of the way.

You wake her up for a bath, draping the girl in one of your shirts for the night, way too big for her tiny frame. And soon enough after both you and Silco were done with your routines you all got in bed. Isha softly held between the two of you, one of your hands cradling her to your chest and the other brushing through your friend's luscious, salt and pepper locks, sometimes switching so you can scratch at his scalp.

"You're good with children." His soft voice echoes in the dark room.

"I just give them what they deserve. What I haven't been given at their age. In Zaun a little goes a long way."

"Yet you go above and beyond, for children and adults alike."

"We all need respite, why deny kindness when it costs nothing?"

He chuckles, the arm over you and Isha tightening its grip at your waist. The one in your hair moving to caress his knuckles at your cheek for a moment.

"Thank you, for Vander, for Jinx. For everything."

"No thanks are needed. You're my friend Silco" You lie, yet the affection in your words is as true as it can be. "I would go to the ends of Runeterra if you so asked."

Your eyes grow heavy, head sinking deeper into your pillow as words are whispered to you, undecypherable because of the exhaustion putting your mind at rest.

The next morning you wake up to the sight of Isha holding a tray with a big smile on her face, Silco in tow with your mug in hand unwilling to let the girl hold hot liquid.

It all felt so homely, that you couldn't stop two tears from sliding down your cheeks.

Wiping at your face you joke that you cry sometimes when you're tired and kiss the child on the forehead, laying the tray on your legs as you sit up. Looking at the hearty breakfast then to the two people standing near you, Isha coming to curl up at your side while Silco sits by your legs.

"She insisted on bringing this up to you."

"Not you?" You tease, nodding in gratitude as you take the hot cup from him, humming at the aroma and taste of coffee.

"Should I start then, my dove? Mh?"

You nearly choke on the hot beverage in your hands and go to stuff your face, hoping to Janna he cannot see your blushing face in the dim room.

You learn that even though she can speak, Isha is indeed very persuasive and insistent. Taking your empty tray downstairs with a bounce in her step as she pointed to your small wardrobe with a jokingly stern look, probably excited to see Jinx again.

You pick breakfast on the way, and hesitate on what to get Vander. His new form far from human which makes you doubt anything concerning his eating habits, so you pick up something similar than for the rest of you hoping to Janna it'll fit him.

Breakfast is shared with everyone huddled in the back room, Isha cuddling Jinx and signing excitedly, probably to explain how her evening went. And your doubts seem confirmed when Jinx looks at you incredulously, whispering to her sister from the side while she hides her mouth from view. You roll your eyes jokingly and spare them a desperate pointed stare as Violet chokes on her pastry, Vander huffing as his ears pick up what is said.

"What are they planning?"

"You don't wanna know, Sil." The three girls laugh. "Trust me."

"I think I do."

"No you don't you fossil, now stop swirling your coffee mysteriously before I drink it myself."

"You wouldn't, it's too bitter."

"Don't try me."

Soon enough Vander is covered back with the tarp, fabric hiding his monstrous form. Violet puts on her gauntlets, Jinx holds Isha's hand and you all get out, Silco and you closing up shop.

The way to the Sump is not all that long, your small hole in the wall community being very near the limits of the Entresol level. Though the labyrinth of the lowest level is another story, the thin corridors nearing a prison sentence are hard to navigate through with the man-beast's hulking form, the group following you as you expertly make your way through the sullen streets. Filled to the brim with those who had less than nothing, the only reason they keep going being faith in Janna's return and her blessings.

"Excuse me, we wish to find the healer, I believe they call him the Herald. Would you be so kind to guide us?"

The small, frail woman you kneeled in front of trains her eyes to you, slowly, exhausted from hunger and the cold. You hand her a pastry, having bought extras to give to those in the Sump, and a handful of coins. Not quite bribing her, more like delivering a counter offer for her help.

She takes your hand with her shaky ones, and with soot draws a small map. The lines are scribbled, the map nearly unreadable, but as she puts down a couple of landmarks your brain ticks in understanding.

"Thank you ma'am. If you ever need help, come to my shop, it's near the Sump entrance on the east of the Entresol. Just ask for me."

You tell her your name and that she can spread the information to as many people as she can. A small, tired smile lights up her sunken face and she holds your shoulders gently, caressing them before letting you return to your group.

As you travel deeper into the Sump the tension within the group grows, not knowing what to expect of the Herald yet wishing to the Gods that he would be able to help.

On the way there you give the last of your pastries to some of the poor fellows down there, repeating what you had said to the woman so that they know they have a safe space to run to if they want it. And time passes, walking through the foul sump smelling streets, metallic groans and cries of pain haunting the very air you breathe, until the buildings become sparse.

As they become sparse you observe the way Isha clings to Jinx who is by Vander's side, Violet on the other, revelling at the sight of the family.

"Why don't you join them, Silco?" You ask softly, eyes trailing to the man walking next to you, steadfast in his position by your side since you offered him a new chance at life.

"They deserve to be a family, I'm the reason the girls lost their parents and even Vander, I hurt Jinx and Violet got imprisoned because of me. It wouldn't feel right."

"Yet you're Vander's brother and Jinx's father. You have as much of a place in this family as any of them."

"I think the only place I have left in this world is by your side."

You bite your cheek, a sigh escaping your lips as if it needed to leave you, to run away. You couldn't stop your heart from rushing everytime he talked to you so solemnly, looking at you as if you hung up the moon. Those words never helped, they made everything so much worse in fact.

This man had found his family once more.

You tell yourself.

He will leave even if he says otherwise.

You reason.

At least you try to, cutting your delusions down as you always do, knowing they'll come back with a revenge but unwilling to deal with them at the moment. They always do around him. His tender care like soil to the fragile seed of your heart, providing warmth and growth, his affection like the sun and the rain feeding your soul.

Around you the buildings make themselves sparce, the thin space of the ravine opening up to a clearing. The space in front of you which you knew to be filled with quaint tents to some inhabitants of the Sump now...a commune?

The sun shined down upon it from breaks in Piltover's metal plating over Zaun, like the Celestials shone down upon this small bit of paradise in the bedrock. What was the most surprising was not the organic shapes of the buildings, white like carved marble and ornate with gold and stained glass, although it was the second on your list. No, it was the field surrounding the small town.

Plants growing in the Undercity.

In the chemical soil, ruined by the upperside's arrogance, watered by toxic waters ruined by experimentations and so called "progress", grew flowers and grass, and you would wager food too if this commune was as self sufficient as it looked.

And it was beautiful.

Even more so as you approached, the grandeur of the place seeping into your bones, warth feeling you as you see...happiness. The crowd coming in along side you filled with hope.

"Vi. I hoped you might return."

Says a man in white, a member of the commune if you could judge by the way he was dressed and by the strange gilded scars on his face. But for all the man's gentleness, Vi stepped forward, tension and agression shaking her very being like you when you first saw her again.

"You filthy traitor."

"Yes, that was me at my worst. Simply awful." He glosses over her rage, acknowledging his past mistakes with nonchalance and welcoming other Zaunites into the gates. "But the Herald has freed me of my past self. He has given me a chance to make amends."

His voice softly fills the air, your body tense at the sheer spectacle of the place, his words heard yet not quite as engrained in you as the sight of heaven within hell.

"All are welcome but I must ask you to surrender your weapons, this is a place of peace."

Your fingers twitch at your side, gaze snapping at him, Vi and Jinx also disgruntled at the words the man just uttered. When you look to your right to find Silco, you find him looking quite similarly to you. Asking a Zaunite to surrender their means of protection was a big inquiry, yet as your eyes trailed to the commune, you can't help but sigh.

Your hands reach beneath your big coat, noxian blades unsheathing and stabbing them in the ground. You are surrendering only this much of your own comfort, Vander is important but you are still a Sumper and a Zaunite and grew up solely in violence. You aren't giving away your tools, and neither are you giving away the dagger currently brushing against your fingers in your jacket's pocket.

Jinx looks at you then at the greeter, her gun suddenly trained on him, the familiar hextech glow shining from within it. But then Violet abandons her gauntlets, the heavy machines slipping from her hands and smashing onto the ground, nodding at you as you follow her in.

You trust that the others would follow.

And they do.

Jinx gives away her gun, keeping the crystal that was stored within it, and Silco gives away two daggers. You smirk at him, knowing that the man was hiding at the very least three more on his person, and he gives you an innocent look. It turns into the usual self satisfied grin as he reaches you.

"Sneaky bastard."

"You're one to talk, minx."

The greeter takes your group to a hill in the commune, no one in the streets minding Vander until you pass by a blacksmith, the man quenching some hot metal and the noise agitating the beast. Yet no one seems to mind him, even as the tarp falls down, nothing but complete gentleness and understanding filling the gazes of the commune's inhabitants, albeit surprised at Vander's appearance.

You soon make your way to a hill, covered in sand and housing a singular, spheric building, from which comes out a man.

The Herald.

And for all of the praise you've heard about him, nothing could have prepared you for how...Ethereal he looked. Body metallic and purple, gilded in certain spots, lithe and tall while it's held up by his iridescent scepter. Yet his face still very human, gentle, the cheeks softly sunken in, his eyes like oilspills and his long hair greying from beneath.

"We hear you can heal people." Is all Vi says before the Herald steps forward, eyes trained on Vander as he stretches his hand towards the beast.

From besides you, you feel Silco moving, his hands already reaching for the hidden daggers he kept on himself.

"Silco, no."

And as you hold his hand, he tenses, the movement fully stopping at your ministration. He sighs and shakes his head in surrender.

That's when the healer reaches Vander, a swift instant passing where purple energy comes from his chest and spreads towards his outstretched hand on Vander's head. Then the man crumbles, seemingly in a daze.

"He is worth the risk." Resounds the Herald's accented, gentle yet almost mechanical voice.

He helps himself up, but as you think his analysis is done, he steps towards Silco, his hand taking the eyepatch away from your friend whose hand is already gripping yours tightly.

"Silco, it is...Strange, to see you here. As much as it isn't. No one truly seems to die anymore, do they?"

Says the healer, a hand outstretched towards your friend before Silco snatches his, his eyes widening, seemingly staring through your friend's soul.

"I'll be fine. We came here for Vander."

"Your eye is infected."

"It is my burden alone to bear, boy. There are more pressing matters at hand."

And the regal man steps back, a soft smile on his face as his eyes trail to you, twinkling with something unknown.

He leads you to a fountain, explaining how he saw within Vander's mind, his dreams, aspirations for Zaun and memories, described the affection the man felt for all of the three important people now reunited with him.

"Can you help him." Vi asks urgently as you set yourself next to her.

"I will do all in my power. However I have one condition."

"Looks like you got a couple." Jinx mumbles teasingly as she stops walking around the fountain.

"You have much to offer this commune..Powder."

Everyone looks at him, surprised at his knowledge of her birth name yet the word cementing his capabilities as true in all of your minds, the girl dropping a coin in the water out of shock.

"Your talents can be used to build instead of destroy." He reaches into the water for the metal circle.

"...I'll stick with what I know..Thanks."

"My condition is that he must be restrained at night. I've seen the harm of which he is capable."

Time passes and Violet looks to her sister.

"What do you think?"

"You...actually want my opinion?" The girl mutters to herself before sighing, getting off the fountain and taking Isha with her.

"I hate fortune cookies."

Violet bids goodbye to Vander and you let Silco do the same, the man holding his friend in a way you would he wish with you. Tightly, with abandon, his body melting into the embrace.

"Good luck, Herald. See you later, Vander." You nod your own farewell, tapping the beast on the shoulder as you walk away, going your own way. The events of the previous day, of the previous year even, catching up to you.

You find yourself welcomed by the inhabitants of the commune, your stomach full and thirst quenched as you walk past homes, the sound of happy chatter and giggling children filling the air. Your body firstly leading you to the blacksmith from earlier, asking to stay and help to occupy yourself, empty your mind of the whirlwind of thoughts finally breaking the dam you've imposed on yourself.

Soon enough, Vander's psyche would be healed, his body impossible to salvage as you had feared. Silco would probably return to him, possibly to his daughter now that she had healed, and perhaps even Violet would join them, Isha obviously coming as a package deal with the younger sister. That's what your mind told you, no matter how much it seemed like Silco would stay, no matter how much he acted like he wouldn't or said he'd be by your side, you doubted him.

And you hated it.

But it was impossible for your mind to change. You grew up, shackled like a feral animal, sent to the pit with no empathy. Whether you died or not didn't matter as long as you put up a good show and racked money. You saw other children die, day by day, you saw men and women bloodied on the ground as your hands clawed at the ground, nails caked in their flesh and the sand from the arena. And months passed, years passed, the red forever staining your hands in your mind's eye, and to escape you had to kill again. Rage overtaking your body as you ripped through skin, flesh and bone; you made a carnage, worse than any you've made in the pit. Survival bubbling with unrestrained anger as you left the premises silent. No spectators, no adversaries, no ring leader, no staff. Just metallic smelling, foul silence; the sound of death.

Yet as you dragged your body to the Entresol you could still hear a combination of elated yells and pained screams, bouncing around your head. And so you became louder than them.

You were taken in, and started working hard. Finding jobs louder than the previous one until you landed on the art of smithing. Loud enough to cover the screams, respected enough that you would be left alone, and social enough that you could help people.

And that is how you lived.

Hot metal beaten day in and day out, helping those in need. Yet you saw it all too quickly that you left one hell for another. Maybe you didn't have to kill everyday to survive, but you saw how Piltover treated Zaun, even how fellow Zaunites treated their own. Sitting on piled up riches made from death and hardwork while they remained lazy and self-righteous, working towards their own progress and not yours.

That's when your blood boiled again, disappointed at how the world was for those at the bottom. So you remembered. Remembered of those stories of miners uniting in a band of misfits, fighting back against the status quo. The Children of Zaun were the only reason you fought back in the pit, the only reason you even dared live, and the reason why you eventually escape.

You wanted to see the Nation of Zaun they were speaking of, wanted to work with them towards achieving it and hoping it would be your repentance for all of the blood you've shed.

And even if tragedy had struck and they had disbanded, you believed in their dream. So when you saw exactly why they dared what they had, you understood all too quickly.

Their vigor, their arrogance..it all made sense. And even if the movement was dead, you would be lying if you said that fighting back wasn't an idea that ate at you. So you did, and eventually it all culminated in you meeting Silco.

Your childhood hero, the driving force behind your own solitary fight. And even if he had fucked up, like hell you were going to let a Zaunite, let alone him, die. Not on your watch.

And you were glad you helped, you were glad you believed. Because beneath the ice cold façade, you saw it. The miner boy who grew to have a dream of freeing his people from oppression, the boy who grew to become a man of action and who got so hurt that his pain led him astray. Focusing his energy into his dream while forgoing the rest, including the very reason he fought.

It felt sweet to know you helped him.

If only these pesky feelings didn't get in the way, turning your friendship into a one way longing, growing into what you feared to be love. Yet as much as you loved him, you couldn't help to fear his departure, knowing a man like this would never settle for something like you. You shared so much in common, his affection so very true.

It just felt impossible for your feelings to be reciprocated.

He was the first person you let in this close, and you feared that even unknowingly he'd rip at your heart.

Days were spent in your own head smithing away and delivering around the commune, coming back in the evening and sharing a meal with your little group. Violet and Jinx seemingly growing closer, Isha included in their banter, Vander growing calmer and his eyes more gentle, Silco more relaxed yet his eyes looking so far away from here.

You shared a room, single bed, and when you looked at the Herald he had this glint in his eyes again. Yet you couldn't be anymore happy that he did. Knowing that you'd be getting no sleep without the soft scratching on your scalp and you scratching on Silco's. His soft hair flowing through your fingers like river water.

"You're not supposed to work."

He grumbles every night.

"If I stay here and don't help, I'll feel guilty."

You always answer back and he sighs, bringing you closer. The drum of his heart against your cheek enough to lull you to sleep.

Today is a day just like any other, where you share breakfast with Silco before going away, leaving him with his daughter and her sisters, Vander soon to be visited by the four of them.

"You work hard, I have to thank you for that." Your name is spoken so softly you nearly miss it under the sound of hammers on metal. Wiping your forehead with a rag you greet the Herald.

"Well, I couldn't bear the thought of staying here for free. Trenchers need to help one another, it's one of the rules."

"Walk with me?"

You look at him confused, then to the two men working alongside you. They smile, nodding to the healer before you step away and towards him, following wherever he needed to go.

"I actually had something to ask of you, Herald, if you'll hear me."

"Of course, what is it?"

"You have many plants here, I wish to take back some to a friend. We're working on an antidote for S-" You bite your lip and sigh.

"For Silco's infection. It's getting worse isn't it?" You nod dejectedly.

"We saw that sap from plants growing in Zaun, mixed with shimmer, could stop his infection. Moss doesn't make nearly enough, and here you grow so many different kinds of plants that...I wished to ask to take some to Samira."

"You may take as much as you need."

You freeze, stopping in your tracks.

"As easy as that?"

"I would have said yes anyways because of your noble intentions but you have been helping the commune, think of it as payment."

He settles himself on a rock overlooking the small slice of paradise he built and you sit next to him, slumping on your knees with your head in your hands.

"You're already doing more than enough for Vander and all of us, I think I'm the one repaying you."

He hums.

"Let's call it a mutually beneficial arrangement, then." You chuckle.

"You're stubborn."

"So are you, helping a man like Silco back on the right path is no easy feat, but you've accomplished it."

"I saved him because of admiration, he stayed because he proved himself capable of change and healing. All he has now is because he worked hard for it, I simply helped."

He chuckles and his cold hand finds yours, patting it gently, the metal feeting heavier despite his ease of movement.

"You're a healer, but do you know anything about applied magic?"

"What do you mean?" His face tilts.

"Something else Samira and I have discovered is that, a hex crystal like this." You hold up the blue marble after fishing it from your pocket. "Can enhance the serum's efficiency. Yet we don't know how to harness it. I've made a machine but I don't know runes for the life of me. Going up to Piltover would be way too dangerous especially since the only person left knowledgeable about runes has disappeared..."

The man freezes besides you, gripping his staff tighter before he slumps, your body turns towards him as he looks at you.

"Show me this machine. Can you write the blueprint for me?"

You nod and get up only to kneel on the ground, picking a tool from your many pouches as you draw shapes after shapes. Arches and annotations following one another in a nearly frenzied scribble.

"The centrifuge force exerced by the machine to mix the serum plus the crystal's energy yield better results than something done by hand, yet I know from previous encounters that Hextech has runes. I may not be a scientist but the stone is the energy source, the machine is the catalyst...yet all that without instructions is useless for optimal results, right?"

He kneels next to you, observing all that you had carved in the sand, one hand holding his chin as his eyes swirl in color. A small excited smile making its way to his face.

"This is genius." He mumbles. "And you've had no real experience in making Hextech before?"

"None, I'm a simple blacksmith." He shakes his head and clicks his tongue.

"There is nothing simple about this. You have engeneered an entirely new machine, from nothing with no previous knowledge of magic...Yes, of course I will help you."

"You know runes? I mean you're obviously a mage but..."

"How could I not, when I have fathered half of what has made the inspiration for all of this?" His hand shows your blueprint.

And silence rings loudly between the two of you and your eyes widened.

No one truly seems to die anymore, do they?

You remember him saying that the first day in the commune. And now you understood just how true it was. The man in front of you was the Zaunite who made it to the academy in Piltover, the one who Jayce Talis spoke so fondly of as his partner.

This was..

"Viktor."

You mumble, remembering his name from mourning his incredible mind that had been burried under Piltover's arrogance. No Zaunite could make it there, even one as amazing as him.

He nods and smiles, his eyes filled with sadness yet as they trail to your schematic it's replaced with determination. Your small notebook quickly taken from its place in one of your pouches, a pencil following it as you get ready to take notes.

He described runes to you, their effects and you two theorized which ones would be better for the job, which ones would work better together. And as the morning bled into the afternoon, the young Herald seemed less holy and more human. His usual poise and calm melting into excitement, ideas brightening his eyes, calculations and explanations flowing from his mouth, punctuated by his accent. One you could hear so much down here.

You could see in him, how he's made it so far as a scientist. His passion was unrivalled, the fire in his soul unable to be tamed and only growing stronger the more he learned about the world.

He was a good man.

A great man.

And he did all he could to help, no matter what it cost him.

So you took great care to listen, quipping in whenever you could when you couldn't understand, when you felt like you could add onto the discussion, and he seemed happier each time you did.

Soon you decide that you've worked enough, Viktor needing to return to Vander, and you home. Feeling exhausted from the way you've been pushing yourself. The man gets up and extends a hand towards you, slowly wrapping his fingers around yours as you let him help you up. You make a detour towards the green house so you can pick a few bulbous plants, full with enough sap that Samira could experiment for a while before you had to come back for more. You will give them to her tomorrow.

"Silco is lucky to have someone like you."

You groan.

"Please stop, everyone is saying shit like that and I cannot deal with it. He's found his family again, I'll be old news soon enough."

"I do not think so."

"Why?" You turn to him, an inquisitive look glazing your eyes along with the barely contained longing and Viktor has the gall to chuckle.

"You'll see soon enough. You have been avoiding him, haven't you?"

"I'm..Trying to stop all of these.." You gesture to your chest frantically, though your tone is calmer, yet filled to the brim with unsaid emotions. "..Feelings. I don't want to get hurt if he leaves and I don't want to take his friendship for granted. He deserves better."

"If, he leaves."

"If or when...I don't know, I would hope not but I'm not used to being cared for, to having something really good and not just...Whatever it is that my life always does."

"He won't, don't worry about that. But you will have to mention it sometime soon. Avoiding him will only make it worse, absence makes the heart grow fonder, as they say, or it'll hurt the both of you. Take the rest of your time here off, please, I insist."

You sigh and nod at him, eyes trained towards the entrance to the commune as you see flashes of red. Noxian warriors, posted at the gate in their armors, the woman you know as General Ambessa talking to the Huck, the greeter from your first day here, talking to her.

"Viktor?"

"I can see."

"That bitch."

You didn't know the woman personally yet from all of what you've heard, Piltover's dictature was imposed under her watchful eye. Always in the back, planning, killing, manipulating; for what exactly, you didn't know. But you knew enough to understand that her being here isn't just out of the goodness of her heart. Especially after her army had killed and attacked so many of your people over the last year, your hands covered in enough of their warrior blood from defending Zaun. Your weapons, stolen from them, a tribute to your hatred at their belligenrency.

"The doctor.."

Whispers the Herald, a green figure clashing against the Noxian red.

"Go back to Vander, if Ambessa's here I'm sure only misery will follow."

"Very well, do stay safe."

"You too Viktor, take care."

The man nods and the sound of his cane behind you slowly fades away.

You spare one last hate fuelled glare to the gate before entering the tent. Silco is waiting for you there, eyes somber as he gazes at you.

"Out with the Herald, dove?"

"He had insight on the machine Samira and I are working on, he also let me take some of the plants for the sap." You sigh, sitting near him and he grunts.

"I know Sil, you're mad at me for not resting."

"Indeed."

You take his hand in yours.

"The Herald told me to rest, non negociable. I'll be with you the rest of our time here."

He relaxes, a soft sigh escaping him as his other hand undoes his bun, the locks flowing around his shoulders

"Why have you been avoiding me?"

"Thought you'd prefer to spend time with your family."

"You are a part of it, dove."

You chuckle and shake your head.

"Come on now, I'm your friend yes, but family?"

"You are." His eyes grow more gentle. "Why do you keep on insisting that you matter less than you do?"

Your gaze slips from his and he holds your chin to bring it back.

"Why?"

"Because I know you'll leave when Vander's back for good. Jinx is here, Vander is here, Violet too. You have no reason to stay anymore. I knew you could leave anytime before but I guess I just chalked it to you not wanting to be alone. To you respecting me and being grateful. But now that all you've ever wanted is in the palm of your hand, there isn't much I could bring you."

He stands up, the hand holding your chin tilting your head up to follow his movement.

"Do you think so little of yourself?"

You startle. Expecting him to say "do you think so little of me", yet he pinpoints the source of all of this. You don't doubt him, you doubt yourself. Your usefulness. Your worth to him.

"I do."

His face all but crumples, pain evident in his features.

"For how long."

"Long enough. You can't blame someone that has never had anything good for feeling like they'll lose it all in the blink of an eye."

"For Janna's sake, I'm not blaming you. I'm not leaving. What else should I tell you to make you believe that I'll stay? I love Vander and Jinx, I care for Violet even after everything, yet it's not my place anymore."

Your breathing becomes shallow and you blink back tears, frantically fluttering your eyelashes before you squeeze them shut to force the tears away.

"What do you want Silco, really. I'm just, confused."

"What is there to be confused about? Have I not made my stance on this clear enough?"

"Perhaps not. I don't know what could help, I'm sorry Sil."

You did, yet you knew it would never come. This conversation was teetering on an edge you'd rather not cross because you know that you'd fall into an abyss of torment if you did.

I love you.

Those are the words you desperately wanted to hear, the thought of them squeezing your heart tight from within your chest.

"Look at me."

You breathe shakily, lower lashes covered in thick tears as the hand grabbing your chin suddenly shifts to cradle your face.

"What are you so afraid of?"

"I don't know."

To be alone again. Without anyone close, anyone that knows the true me. Without you. Because I love you so much it hurts me to think of living without you by my side.

"Stop lying."

"I'm not."

"Then why are you hiding from me?" He calls out desperately, voice so soft you'd think he was talking to a terrified animal.

Your jaw sets, trying to regain control.

Then a loud, booming sound rings through the quaint town.

And the gentle silence of the evening changes into an echoing scream of pain, parasited by high pitched screeches that shook you to your core. You push yourself from Silco's grasp to rush outside.

Everybody is dropping like flies.

The gilded marks on their faces glowing as they drop boneless, mouths opened wide. No matter where you go, everyone is the same. And then there is the sound of marching, red flags and black armors shining in the dimming light as you make your way through the commune. Disgust filling your throat and anger bubbling beneath your skin as you see Noxians set their warpath into this place of safety and peace.

So you go to Huck's, silently appologizing to Viktor as you take back the weapons he had asked you to surrender. Silco hot on your trail taking his own daggers back. Your panicked rushing making it impossible for you to sheathe your weapons.

"Let's go get Vander and the others, quick!"

He nods and you sniffle as you run to the greenhouse, wiping at your tears with your sleeves before nearly crumbling at the sight in front of you.

Vander was...bleeding. Fire and magma escaping him instead of hemoglobin, growling and screaming as he frantically moves. Violet is standing near Caitlyn, which surprises you because of how much she's done to your people over the past year. Jinx is protecting Isha, one hand keeping the child away from the horrific sight and a Noxian warrior is posted near the man-beast, ready to fight.

Near you, you see Ambessa and her troops within the confines of the commune watching whom you could only theorize as the Kiramman girl, with sheer anger. Betrayal barely masked behind the ugliness of her rage.

The sight behind Vander was just as shocking, Viktor's home is broken. Bits of the stone and stained glass floating in the air as the sky darkens.

Your observation is cut short when Vander attacks the Noxian, beating the man to death with such a vicious ferocity you could only describe him as a monster.

That is when all hell breaks loose.

Ambessa delivers a war cry before she and her troops rush forward to Vander and the girls.

"Come on!" Silco screams, panicked and you follow him, heading straight into the fray.

"Go get the girls! I'll hold them back!"

"No!"

"Do as you're told Silco or there will be no more family to return to!"

Your body shakes in terror and your tears finally escape you freely, this could be the last time you see him. This could be the last time you see him, talk to him, feel him.

So you rush to Silco, your fear of losing him in war stronger than the fear of him leaving you. He reaches for you and your lips meet, the man wobbling back at the force of your embrace, breaths mingling and lips entertwining in a depserate kiss.

When you push back from him his good eye is wide open, the teal ocean cooling the raging blaze of your fears and the orange iris filling you with confident warmth.

"We'll talk later. Don't die out there, or I'll kill you."

And that's when you find yourself surrounded by Noxians, rushing into battle as Vander swipes madly and snarls, your attack not all too dissimilar from his. Desperation, anger, loss, all boiling into a dangerous culmination. Adrenalin stopping you from feeling the pain delivered to you by Ambessa's men as you cut and smash through them, doing as much damage as you can in the presence of a platoon.

Cut, cut, smash, cut, smash. You barely even think to defend yourself, preferring to act like a second distraction so your group could leave, escape, live.

Tears carve through the blood covering your face, your angry snarls nearly as terrifying as Vander's as you fight. In fear at those whom you care about dying, in fear at your dream of a free Zaun crumbling, in anger at how those people had stolen Vander's second chance at life.

Yet through the noise, all the screaming and fighting, you could hear Jinx's voice.

"Isha!"

Turning your head you see her reaching towards Vander, Violet holding her back, Isha under the beast with the blue haired girl's gun glowing bright blue.

Your lungs burn as you scream her name.

Your legs burn as you rush forward.

Your body burns from all the cuts and hits you've been dealt.

Your eyes burn as Silco calls out to you, his voice full of fear and panic, breaking in a way you've never heard before, even less from him.

But you don't stop.

As you push through hordes of Noxians, the weapon glows brighter and brighter, the girl holding it up towards Vander, her other hand shooting towards Jinx as she smiles at her.

And before the worst happens, you reach her.

You take the gun and you throw her away towards Silco, smiling tearfully as you see him scambling towards the child. And it's when you see him rush towards you next that everything goes black.

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Silco Masterlist: here

Arcane Masterlist: here

Navigation: here

[d8tl55c]

physeng(write, file, "tco_physeng_breakdown.png");

to:compiler {file}

to:compiler {txt: "Internet and Outernet are full of StickFigures with similar body plans, so there are optimizations for rendering vector strokes specifically. it's way more efficient to use those optimizations than keep calculating perfect spheres for no aesthetic benefit."}

{txt: "btw why haven't heat issues been patched yet"}

{txt: "i fixed this years ago for the latest model. remember."}

from:compiler {txt: "Thank you. The avast! nodes will appreciate the credits. TheChosenOne.exe has been unreachable for some time."}

to:compiler {txt: "you mean OuternetPhysEng still won't update their programs"}

from:compiler {txt: "Yes."}

to:compiler {txt: "and still won't provide a specific location?"}

from:compiler {txt: "Do not allow them to bring up the moral argument again."}

to:compiler {txt: "OK. fine. yes. i will spare both of us"}

to:compiler {txt: "abridged or full docs?"}

from:compiler {txt: "Abridged. Please describe the acronyms."}

to:compiler {txt: "ofc"}

{txt: "

sel.per.filter: standard StickFigure component (src)*****. invisible membrane with special collision properties. protects mouthparts.

H2O scoop: avast! code. implements water retrieval from ambient air.

EIS: avast! code. destroys ingested materials identified as, "dangerous" before they reach internal systems.

SOS: avast! code. they only said this one was, "used for control."

ECL: avast! code. recycles some forms of contact energy.

THROUGHLINE: base code, initialization data, and processing space for vitals. found in some form in all StickFigure-type worms. following unique sectors noted: Black Hole Monitoring System, Basic Intake Threat Enum, Fly By Wire.

smaller points list other vital and peripheral systems.

"}

from:compiler {txt: "Thank you. That's enough."}

end(physeng());

@compressedrage as per my previous email /silly

related: pliable stick figure biotech

[literaryvein-reblogs]

hey, do you have anything on writing about cults you could share, please?

Writing Notes: Cults

Cult - A religious or quasi-religious group characterized by unusual or atypical beliefs, seclusion from the outside world, and an authoritarian structure.

They tend to be highly cohesive, well organized, secretive, and hostile to nonmembers.

Also: The system of beliefs and rituals specific to a particular religious group.

Cult of Personality - exaggerated devotion to a charismatic political, religious, or other leader, often fomented by authoritarian figures or regimes as a means of maintaining their power. Also called personality cult.

Characteristics of a Cult

Each cult has its own distinctive focus, but almost all of these groups share at least some elements in common, such as:

Authoritarian control: Cultism hinges on encouraging maximum dependency. People in the cult must feel incapable of living an individual life outside the norms of the group. These beliefs often go hand in hand with a worshipful attitude toward the group’s authoritarian leader.

Extremist beliefs: Cult members hold to very dogmatic and extreme beliefs. They also are unable to question these belief systems without fear of reprisal or punishment from the leader or other group members.

Isolation from society: As soon as new members join a cult, other adherents work hard to isolate them from family members and friends. This helps fulfill the mind control aspirations of the leader. It also creates a hive mind of sorts between the new person and the other members.

Veneration of a single individual: Charismatic leaders are often at the center of most cults. Consider the Manson family of the late 1960s. As their name suggests, they adopted the beliefs of their leader, Charles Manson, and fulfilled his requests. The same pattern repeats in almost all other cults, albeit to less violent ends in many cases.

Types of Cults

There are many different types of cults focusing on different end goals or beliefs. Here are just a few general groupings:

Doomsday cults: Certain cults come together to prepare for the allegedly imminent end of the world. For instance, the Branch Davidians stockpiled firearms and explosives in a Waco, Texas, compound over the 1980s and ’90s to prepare for the apocalypse. This led to an infamous standoff with the federal government.

Political cults: Political groups on both the left and right can morph into cults. Janja Lalich wrote an entire account of her own experience in such an environment.

Religious cults: Spiritual beliefs serve as the bedrock for many cults. Some cults are offshoots of mainline religions while others offer brand-new dogmas and theology.

Sex cults: All types of cults might have a component of sexual abuse, but some focus on sex as one of their primary functions. For instance, New York–based NXIVM encouraged rampant sexual behavior between its group members before dissolving.

Examples of Cults

Cults have made headlines over the years due to their outrageous and sometimes tragic behavior. Some notorious cultic groups:

Heaven’s Gate: Inspired by the Book of Revelation, Bonnie Nettles and Marshall Applewhite formed Heaven’s Gate as a doomsday cult with a focus on UFOs. In 1997, all the members died by mass suicide in an effort to ride a comet passing by the Earth.

The Peoples Temple: Jim Jones, a charismatic preacher from the United States, formed the Peoples Temple to spread his own flavor of Christianity before moving to Guyana. There, he founded Jonestown, a compound for his religious group of followers. They died by mass suicide in 1978.

The Unification Church: A new religious movement that began in South Korea, The Unification Church spread to the rest of the world. All adherents follow the teachings of Sun Myung Moon, hence their colloquial nickname (the Moonies).

Why People Join Cults. People join cult movements for various reasons, most of which revolve around a desire for meaning and community. Many who become part of such organizations have troubled backgrounds and difficulty fitting into society. They might also feel mainstream culture has no place for them and nothing of spiritual value to offer either.

Former cult members often describe the long-lasting sense of loneliness and nihilism they felt prior to becoming part of something bigger than themselves.

This encourages them to put down their defenses and accept the stranger elements of their new communities.

Of course, this has sometimes led to horrific and even deadly outcomes in extreme circumstances.

No one joins a cult voluntarily; they are recruited into it.

There is lack of informed consent.

Everyone has vulnerabilities.

Possible situational vulnerabilities include:

illness,

the death of a loved one,

breakup of an important relationship,

loss of a job, or

moving to another city, state or country.

Individual vulnerabilities may include:

high hypnotizability,

strong ability for concentration and vivid imagination,

learning disorders, or 

autism spectrum disorders.

Excessive use of hypnosis, meditation, and other activities can induce an altered state of consciousness. These, in turn, increase susceptibility to being recruited by a cult unless there are strong critical thinking, media literacy and good supportive network, which can help a person stay grounded.

Other risks consist of:

Learning and communication disorders

Drug or alcohol problems

Trauma

Unresolved sexual issues

Phobias (fear of heights, drowning, sharks, aliens, terrorists, crime, etc.)

There are even recent 21st century contributors:

COVID-19/pandemic

Severe economic disruption

Isolation, lack of touch, social distancing

Social/political polarization

Increased time online

Internet addiction

Recruitment into extreme conspiracy theories and cults/scams

"Cult" as a Word

In recent years the word cult has been most commonly used as a pejorative term for a religious group that falls outside the mainstream and, by implication, engages in questionable activities. Many new religions are controversially labeled as cults.

In historiography, there are no negative connotations to the term cult.

It is especially common in works on Classical history, as the ancient Mediterranean world was home to a large variety of mystery cults.

These were small groups whose elite members were initiated into secret rituals for a particular deity.

Far from existing at tension with the society at large, many Roman cults were heavily integrated into the surrounding society.

In Pompeii one of the most lavishly decorated temples was of the cult of Isis.

An inscription records that the individual who paid for the temple’s refurbishment was rewarded with a position as town councilor, indicating a strong interconnection between this mystery cult and the civic order of the city.

Furthermore, one of the most prominent Roman cults was the imperial cult, which was dedicated to the worship of deceased and deified Roman emperors and their deified family members.

Imperial cult worship reinforced the power of the dominant political system, and most or all of pre-Christian Roman society had some degree of membership in it.

Other groups referred to as cults can also reinforce the dominance of a religious and social order.

Within the Roman Catholic Church, the cult of the Virgin Mary and cults of other saints have gained many adherents and a high degree of influence, especially artistically.

Even today, people who intensely worship particular saints are sometimes identified as being members of that saint’s cult.

In more recent decades, groups designated cults have been those at tension with the rest of society.

However, beyond this feature, there is no general consensus about what differentiates a cult from any other religious group.

Some scholars have argued that, by the simplest definition, many, if not all, religious sects originated as cults.

Over time, some cults became culturally accepted and the tension between them and society resolved, leading to the cult being recognized as a sect or church.

Recent examples of this transition from so-called cult to religious group are Seventh-day Adventists and the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Other scholars have advanced a more narrow definition of the term cult as a religious group with some or all of the following characteristics:

a charismatic leader who exercises total control;

an apocalyptic vision (doomsday cult);

isolation from society;

an emphasis on a transcendent spiritual experience;

rigid rules governing group members’ behaviour; and

the exploitation of members, including sexually and financially.

In popular use, the term cult has accumulated a strong negative connotation and is often used to cast aspersions on a religious group’s validity as a form of religious practice.

From the 1960s onward, a number of new cults developed in the United States and attracted large numbers of worshippers.

The actions of these cultists, who sometimes isolated themselves from their families and oriented their lives fully around the cult, triggered widespread alarm.

So, too, did the actions of violent cults such as the Peoples Temple, headed by Jim Jones, and the Manson Family, which was led by Charles Manson.

The anti-cult movement reached its peak in the 1970s, when the idea emerged that cult members were being “brainwashed,” having their free will systematically taken away.

The trial of Patty Hearst—an heiress kidnapped by leftist radicals in 1974 and allegedly brainwashed into committing crimes—played a key role in the growth of this belief.

According to the brainwashing theory, cult members are not choosing an alternative way of life but are instead victims of exploitative and dangerous fanatics.

This justified the rise of forcible deprogramming, which involves the kidnapping and holding of cult members until the deprogrammer judges that they are no longer in the thrall of the cult.

Many deprogrammed former cult members went on to launch challenges in court.

Some sued the cults that they had been members of, accusing them of brainwashing. A few psychologists and psychiatrists testified in support of the deprogrammed cultists at those trials.

However, other former cult members sued their deprogrammers, claiming to have been kidnapped and abusively coerced into giving up their “brainwashing.”

With brainwashing accusations at the heart of these cases, a variety of medical researchers as well as such organizations as the American Psychological Association researched cults and cult members during the 1980s and ’90s. Their conclusion was that accusations of brainwashing and coercive persuasion against cults lacked a factual basis.

Studies which suggested proof of brainwashing were methodologically flawed or based on insufficient data.

After a cult member won a lawsuit against his deprogrammer (Jason Scott v. Rick Ross) in 1995, the practice of forcible deprogramming was largely discontinued.

Academic research has revealed a more fluid and varied reality than the one advanced by the anti-cult movement.

In fact, many people who join a cult choose to leave it.

Other members of cults do not become entirely isolated from society, maintaining jobs and relationships outside the cult.

In addition, some studies have suggested that those who leave a cult and experience psychological damage are more likely to have left involuntarily.

A wide range of religious groups fall under the definition of cult, and the vast majority are benign or even have a positive impact on society.

Given the continued negative associations with the term cult, many sociologists and researchers now prefer to use the term new religious movement (NRM).

It is used to describe groups previously called cults.

This term is meant to dissociate NRMs from the connotation that their forms of religious expression lack legitimacy, an idea which is now perhaps permanently ingrained in the term cult.

Lasting Effects of Cults. Prolonged and intense coercive persuasion can cause identity disturbance. Commonly, there are many additional after-effects:

Extreme identity confusion

Panic and anxiety attacks

Depression

Psychosomatic symptoms (headaches, backaches, asthma, skin problems)

Anger, guilt and shame

Decision-making dependency

Fear and phobias

Sleep disorders/nightmares

Eating disorders

Fear of intimacy and commitment

Distrust of self and others

Grieving loss of friends and family

Delusions and paranoia

Loss of life meaning or purpose

Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD)

In an era when cult mind control is ever present and growing, it is essential to better understand the basics of cults, in order to combat their influence.

The first goal in educating yourself is prevention, for yourself and others. But, if you have been affected, recovery is possible.

And if your friends or family are involved in a destructive group, you can help rescue them from harm.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Choose which of these references would be most appropriate to incorporate in your story. Hope this helps!

[amateur-flamingo]

On the day the cosmos opened up, humanity united its forces to protect the Earth. While fearless pilots fight in enemy territory in the vastness of the stars, the guardians of our planet become bigger, better, stronger.

I'm really into @keferon mecha au. I wanted to finish my concept before the New Year, but so much stuff piled up during the holidays that I didn't have time. Nevertheless! I'm happy to share my thoughts on the Stunticon team in this setting >:) I don't claim canonicity, so this could very well be just an au au.

Menasor is a human project on par with other "combiners". They are significantly larger than normal mechs and require much greater resources to both build and pilot. To operate such a colossal robot, several people are needed at once; which is, in fact, unthinkable, given how precisely one must perform actions and navigate within the machine. Eventually, "Mind Melding" was developed, which involves pilots sharing impressions, feelings, and thoughts with each other. To achieve greater efficiency, each member of the team must be in closer relationships, reducing the likelihood of systemic problems occurring during the merge.

Being the second combiner created, Menasor is far from perfect, including because of its pilots. Its components are a team of Stunticons - former road bandits, after the trial sent in a "good direction" for the benefit of all mankind. A choice without a choice, but in the end none of them were against participating in the experiment. Each of them is responsible for a separate part of the robot's body, in fusion they really provide sufficient efficiency to fulfill the assigned mission - fighting the incoming monsters.

I won't hide that I was greatly inspired by the piloting methods in Pacific Rim and Evangelion. For my concept, I use the "drift" system, the merging of the consciousnesses of two pilots; as well as the capsule system for the pilots from Eva, each of which is placed in a separate limb of Menasor. Also! I am absolutely delighted by the existence of the "berserker" form in Evangelion, and, frankly, I can't help but add it here.

The imperfection of combiners lies, among other things, in the imbalance of human minds. At the moment of failure - technical, emotional, any other - there is a possibility of awakening the personality of the mech. When the consciousnesses of the pilots merge, leaving no room for each one separately - a berserker appears, acting on his instincts alone. The components stop responding to requests, and the only way to stop the combiner is either running out of energy or fighting him.

Menasor was the first combiner with a recorded case of mind fusion. Due to some fragmentation of the Stunticons, as well as their psychological problems, the mecha went out of control and stopped communicating with the control center. More animalistic behavior during the battle with the alien, and then the destruction of more than a third of the abandoned city before the batteries died, forced the responsible persons to temporarily stop using Menasor in missions until the circumstances were clarified. The Stunticons were subsequently sent for a second medical examination, each assigned a personal specialist, and the same was done with the members of the other teams.

Nevertheless, everyone appreciated the effectiveness of destroying the enemy in the form of a berserker. The risk, to some extent, was worth it, so the program was not terminated, soon returning the combiners to duty.

Probably, if the concept eventually works out, I'll also make full-fledged designs for the Stunticons x) I already have an idea, I just need to put in more effort for it.