#a wild starter has appeared ))

[mournthebird]

Gentle Hand.

summary: Soldat has a panic attack.

warnings: Post!HYDRA Winter Soldier | Post!HTP and abuse | PTSD symptoms & behavior | Panic attacks | Brief medical treatments | Flashbacks of HTP | Past dehumanization | Brief mention of SA

a/n: This was supposed to be posted before the other one I just posted, but I got impatient lol. So it might sound a little out of order, once I have all these parts out I'll put them in order. He's getting through it, you're being patient. Unedited. ;; wc: 3.4k

There were a lot of complicated things with Soldat.

Significant complications with his health, for starters, which caught you off guard given his status as a super soldier. You had initially assumed that his enhanced physiology would grant him a far greater resilience compared to an ordinary human, as had been proven with the likes of Steve Rogers. However, the treatment from HYDRA had somehow managed to infiltrate his system so profoundly and extensively that it had wreaked havoc on his entire physiological makeup, leaving him in a severely compromised state.

The issue of malnourishment was addressed through a carefully planned regimen of intravenous treatments, much to Soldat’s dislike. This approach was complemented by a gradual reintroduction to solid foods, a process that required meticulous attention and patience. The goal was to slowly accustom his system to regular nutrient intake without overwhelming his weakened digestive tract. Not to mention the fact that Soldat often refused food or that his body simply could not handle it, even in small amounts.

Honestly, re-feeding him was a whole other problem you had to tackle.

A similar strategy was employed to combat his severe dehydration and restore proper fluid balance. You also noticed that he experienced significant difficulty in swallowing, a symptom that hinted at potential damage to his esophageal tract or neurological complications affecting his ability to consume liquids normally.

Then, there were the myriad of wounds that covered his body. Stubborn injuries that had been persisting for a duration that far exceeded your initial expectations and caused you considerable worry. You found a small measure of solace in the fact that the majority of these injuries, while numerous, consisted primarily of superficial cuts and bruising.

Treating these wounds was far from easy. His behavior during treatment sessions mirrored a cornered wild animal, skittish and unpredictable, making each attempt at care a delicate and often extremely stressful. You didn’t want to stress him any further than he probably was in a stranger’s home, with a stranger, but you needed to at the very least keep the wounds from bleeding everywhere.

He lashed out at you with his metal arm, swinging wildly without any real force behind it. You could instantly discern that his actions were driven by sheer terror rather than malice. His eyes were wide with panic, darting frantically around the room, and it was evident that he wasn't actively trying to cause you harm. As you approached with the antiseptic and gauze, he bared his teeth in a defensive snarl and let out a feral hiss, his metal arm swinging once more in a desperate attempt to keep you at bay.

He had backed himself into the corner of your bathroom, the face he couldn’t go anywhere was frightening him just as much as you were. "Easy there, Soldat," you murmured, your voice steady and reassuring. "You're not scaring me. These wounds need to be cleaned and treated." Your words were calm and gentle, but they seemed to do little to soothe his frayed nerves.

In another display of agitation, he swung his arm downward, connecting with your tile floor. The impact was forceful enough to shatter the tiles into several jagged pieces, the sound of breaking ceramic echoing through the room. He fixed you with a glare that was clearly meant to be intimidating, but you could see right through it. His expression was a forced mask of hatred, a poor attempt at appearing dangerous. He was trying so hard to maintain this façade of aggression, but his fear was as obviously visible beneath the surface.

"Listen, Soldat," you said, your voice taking on a firmer yet still compassionate tone. "If you really wanted to harm me, we both know you would have done so by now. Your behavior isn't fooling either of us." You gestured to his injuries, your expression softening. "Now, please, let me tend to these wounds. If we don't bandage them soon, you're going to end up bleeding all over the place. That can't be comfortable for you. And I would really appreciate it if you didn't stain my carpet..."

His face held a stubborn, forced scowl, but also an undeniable air of resignation. He relaxed at your approach, albeit marginally, allowing you to come closer. Sharp, audible breaths exited his nostrils in rapid succession, betraying his lingering apprehension. You knew he was tense so you offered reassurance, "You're alright, I promise this won't hurt. We just need to take care of these."

Your words seemed to have enough of a calming effect as you carefully began tending to him, finally able to assess and treat his injuries. As the moments passed and he realized your true intentions were solely to help, not harm, his demeanor shifted. He became increasingly receptive to your ministrations as each cleaning session came, and he allowed you to clean his wounds and change his gauze without resistance.

But there was one thing you couldn't help but notice, and it was perhaps the biggest hurdle of them all. An almost violent aversion to certain actions and decisions.

To the outside eye, they appeared completely random, and they did to you too. At first.

Soldat refrained from doing anything, no matter how mundane, without first seeking your explicit permission. Something as simple as taking a seat or reaching for a glass of water seemed to require your approval.

At first this behavior confused you, but as you observed him more closely, you started to understand a little but more. HYDRA, while you knew very little of his experiences, did a number on his psyche. He was grappling with intense internal struggles, and in an attempt to cope with his sudden freedom, he was projecting his deep-seated need for structure and guidance onto you. By relinquishing control over even the most basic decisions, he seemed to find a semblance of comfort and stability.

This realization left you with mixed emotions.

On one hand, you felt a twinge of discomfort at being thrust into this unexpected role of authority. The weight of his dependence on your decisions was not something you had anticipated or necessarily desired.

Yet, on the other hand, you couldn't deny the visible relief and calm that washed over him when operating within these self-imposed boundaries. Witnessing how this dynamic seemed to provide him with a sense of security and ease, you found yourself reluctantly gave into.

Despite your internal reservations, you knew that this arrangement was serving as a crucial coping mechanism for him during what was clearly a difficult time, even if it had begun from something awful. So, setting aside your own discomfort, you made the conscious decision to lean into this role, at least for now.

Your primary concern was his well-being, and if this is what he needed to feel safe and begin healing, then you were willing to adapt and provide that structure for him.

His comfort level around you was noticeably increasing with each passing day. Gradually, he began to emerge from the bedroom where he had initially isolated himself, seeking out your company in subtle ways.

Your presence seemed to have a calming effect on him, acting as a source of reassurance in his new environment. He made a conscious effort to be in the same room as you, his actions betraying a growing desire for proximity.

He maintained a considerable distance for a while, positioning himself at the far end of whatever space you occupied. He often watched you, or sometimes he’d allow himself to nap, he never spoke. You chose to ignore him most of the time, not wanting to give him too much attention and spook him away.

Time progressed and you noticed a slow but steady shift in his behavior. Like a cautious animal gradually acclimating to a new habitat, he inched closer to you day by day. He continued his gradual migration until he finally felt secure enough to position himself right beside you.

One particularly lazy afternoon, he slowly made his way towards you, his steps heavy with hesitation. Upon reaching the living area, he carefully lowered himself onto the floor adjacent to the couch, his eyes fixed downward on the carpet. Eventually, his gaze lifted, settling on the television screen. He watched the program you had selected, you couldn't help but notice a glimmer of curiosity dancing behind his eyes, his engagement slowly growing with his surroundings.

You had tried many different offers and encouragement, but he refused to make use of any furniture in the house. The comfortable couch remained untouched by him, and the inviting bed you prepared for him went unused night after night. He had ripped the blankets off and curled up on the floor instead.

His reluctance to using the couch and the bed made you start to think. Had he been conditioned to believe that he wasn't allowed to use something as basic as furniture?

You remained silent, not uttering a single word as you observed him sitting there, seemingly without any discomfort. After a moment of hesitation, you decided to break the silence. "You know, you're more than welcome to sit up here with me," you suggested, your voice soft and kind. His head lifted ever so slightly in response to your words, his eyes glancing at you from under the bits of hair that fell over his face.

The soldier's gaze met yours, his eyes filled with a mixture of doubt and confusion. His frown deepened, etching lines across his forehead as if your words were spoken in a foreign tongue he couldn't quite decipher. You gently patted the empty cushion to your left, emphasizing your point. "Really, you can sit up here if you'd like," you reiterated, your tone warm and encouraging, hoping to dispel any lingering uncertainty he might have.

Several minutes pass and he doesn't budge.

You decide to just let him sit there if he wants to, observing his actions without comment. You didn't want to make him do something he didn't want to do anyway. So you turned your attention back to the show playing on the screen, watching she shitty adult cartoon full of jokes and clichés. But you had to admit, it was pretty funny. You felt something beside you, the subtle shift in the couch's cushions as his silver prosthetic makes contact. The furniture dips ever so slightly as the soldier cautiously lowers himself onto it.

His movements are painfully slow and deliberate, as if he's treading on eggshells, anticipating that you might suddenly change your mind or lash out at him at any moment. When he finally settles, his posture is noticeably stiff and unnatural, not to mention his obvious aversion to sitting flat on his ass like a normal person. His wounds and injuries were brutal, and you knew he didn't like to sit often. But right now it seemed like he was forcing himself to do so.

The discomfort radiates from him, filling the air with tension. He sits ramrod straight, muscles visibly taut beneath his clothing, and his eyes are wider than you've ever seen them, pupils dilated and darting around the room. It's as if he's desperately searching for potential threats or escape routes, his entire being on high alert. The sight reminds you of a cornered animal, teetering on the edge of fight-or-flight, barely containing the urge to bolt from the room at the slightest provocation.

"Soldat, it's alright. You're safe here. You can sit here, I said you could," you said in a gentle, reassuring tone, attempting to alleviate his visible anxiety. Your voice was recited soft and steady, hoping to create a calming atmosphere. Soldat still tensed up as you adjusted your position. His reaction was immediate and he recoiled as though anticipating a blow, his body language screaming of deep-seated fear.

His breathing became erratic, each inhale and exhale a struggle. His hands trembled and gripped the cushion with such force that the knuckles on his flesh hand turned white. It was clear he was desperately trying to maintain his composure in what he perceived as a threatening situation. The sight of his internal struggle tugged at your heart, you couldn’t believe something as simple as sitting on the couch could cause him to be this distressed.

‘Assets sit on the floor!’ A heavily armored combat boot collided with its nose, it heard a crack, felt the warmth of thick red ooze running down its face and throat, tasting the metallic flavored substance. The rusty tar. ‘Try to get up here again, and I will chain you up to that fucking stump outside. See if you can withstand below zero all night.’

Its handler really hated when it sat on the furniture. Used a bed. Used a chair. Its handler liked to threaten and hurt it.

He liked it to sit at his feet, like a good asset should. Be silent, be obedient, be subservient and pleasing for handler. Make sure he is satisfied and serviced well. Maybe then it will get to sleep? Maybe it would get a blanket tonight. Maybe it wouldn’t have to serve the team tonight.

Or not.

Concern etched across your features as you observed his distress. "I promise you, everything is okay," you reiterated, your voice laced with sincerity and compassion. However, as you shifted slightly to face him better, it became apparent that this small movement was what he had been unconsciously anticipating. The second you made that tiny little shift in the cushion, he leapt to his feet, his sudden movement causing him to stumble. His knee collided painfully with the coffee table, but he seemed oblivious to the impact.

Backing away from you, his eyes darted wildly around your apartment, resembling those of a cornered animal searching desperately for an escape route. There was panic in his gaze, his chest heaving with each rapid, shallow breath.

Unable to maintain his stance, he sank to his knees, his legs unable to support him any longer. His hands flew to his head, fingers entangling themselves in his long hair, gripping tightly as though trying to anchor himself to reality. His breathing had become so labored and quick that it appeared he was on the verge of hyperventilation, fighting for each breath as though he were drowning on dry land.

He cowered away from you as you approached him with worry, his body surrendering to you.

'Stupid fucking asset! Did they fry out all of your common sense, huh? I said NO sitting on the furniture!' Handler's voice thundered through the room, each word laced with venom and contempt. Its wet nose collided violently with his boot for the second time, the impact reverberating through its skull. A sharp, searing pain pushed into its face, and it wondered if a fragment of its broken nose had been forced inward.

Its handler seized a fistful of the asset's hair in a vicious grip and yanking, forcefully dragging it across the floor. The wooden planks, rough and splintered, scraped against its skin as it was hauled towards the dilapidated door of the safehouse. This ramshackle structure was their temporary refuge for the night, a necessary evil in the unforgiving Siberian wilderness. The biting cold of the subzero temperatures was a constant source of irritation for the American team, who were ill-equipped to handle such extreme conditions.

As its handler stepped outside, the asset felt the icy bite of a frozen chain wrapping around its neck. The metal was chilled to an impossible degree and seared its skin on contact. The unexpected pain elicited a cry of surprise and agony from the asset but it was cut short as the chain constricted, squeezing tightly and cutting off its air supply.

Panic set in as it gasped and clawed desperately at the unyielding metal, its lungs burning for oxygen. Just when unconsciousness threatened to overtake it, the pressure relented, allowing it to gulp in precious air once more. The asset's mind raced, recognizing the depth of its handler's fury in this brutal display.

Its handler secured the other end of the chain to an old tree stump barely visible through the snowbank. The makeshift anchor stood amidst piles of chopped wood, all buried under a thick blanket of freshly fallen snow. The wind howled mercilessly, its icy fingers clawing at both the asset and its handler. 'I'll come back in the morning,' he spat, the words barely audible over the roaring gale.

As its handler retreated indoors, the asset felt the blood on its face begin to crystallize, the crimson stream halting its flow as the subzero temperatures took hold. The relentless wind continued its assault, driving icy particles into every exposed inch of skin. With no other option available, the asset curled into itself, seeking what little warmth it could generate as it resigned itself to enduring the long, brutal hours of frozen misery until dawn.

At least it didn't have to service anyone tonight.

He remained motionless, neither pleading nor protesting.

Its handler hated when it begged most of the time. Sometimes he did like it, but it didn’t want to risk angering you by opening its mouth. No. It should only do that when its handler commands it. Otherwise, it was a whore.

In his mind, he braced for the inevitable feeling of your hand roughly grasping his hair, forcefully dragging him away to face some cruel punishment. How could he have the audacity? Sitting beside you on the couch, as if he dared to consider himself your equal.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly. After several long, dreary seconds that felt like an eternity, he summoned the courage to steal a glance at you. His eyes were partially obscured by strands of unkempt hair, peered out cautiously. His breathing remained ragged and uneven, though he made a conscious effort to quiet it.

Its handler preferred silence, after all.

This thought, ingrained deeply within him, only served to heighten his anxiety.

"Soldat, breathe... it's okay, you're safe here." Your voice broke through the silence, gentle and reassuring, though tinged with a noticeable tremor as you witnessed his breakdown. "It's okay. I'm here. No one else but me. You are safe." You repeated these words, emphasizing them as you carefully lowered yourself to the ground beside him.

The soldier’s hyperventilation persisted despite your gentle efforts to speak to him. You remained undeterred and continued to speak, hoping that somehow your words would penetrate the fog of fear surrounding him.

Or the thick snowbank slowly freezing its skin.

"Whatever you're seeing right now isn't real, it's in the past," you explained, your voice soft but steady. "You're here, in my apartment. It's just us. No one is going to hurt you." You inched closer, gradually closing the distance between you and his huddled, trembling form on the carpet. Your movements were slow as you consciously made the effort to be careful and not to startle him further.

He heard you, the absence of pain confused him, but it also provided some soothing to his pure panic. You were telling the truth.

You weren't going to hurt him.

Soldat's gaze met yours once more, his eyes filled with a profound sadness as he gradually descended from the heights of his attack. His breathing, still irregular and labored, came in erratic bursts, each sudden intake of air punctuated by a noticeable hitch. To your shock, he began to inch towards you, his movements hesitant yet deliberate.

Under his breath, he emitted soft whimpers, struggling valiantly to maintain his silence as he had been engrained to do. His entire form quivered violently, reminiscent of someone caught in the grip of an intense chill, and without warning, he allowed his weight to collapse against you, seeking solace in your presence.

A muffled sound escaped him, barely audible as it was absorbed by the fabric of your shirt. Your arms encircled his trembling frame, careful in case he didn’t want you to do so, but you felt no resistance. As he muffled, your ears pricked and you carefully leaned your head down a bit. Your cheek gently brushed his forehead, your mouth close to his ear. "What is it...you can tell me." You whispered, waiting for him to speak again.

Given the other times he had spoken, you braced yourself for Russian, but those concerns dissipated like morning mist when he finally found his voice and spoke. His words were simple, he murmured out again, the admission barely above a whisper and surprised you when they hit your ears.

"I'm cold."

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

Cover images from Pinterest. I do not claim them as my own.

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[marionthegeek]

Stede is in the Gravy Basket, Izzy is Alive

The season 2 finale of Our Flag Means Death is odd.  It hits weird. I think I know why. And this is going to sound bananas, but give me a chance to explain.  Maybe you’ll agree.

It has a huge tonal shift. It seems to speedrun Stede and Ed’s romance. It feels like we’ve missed out on something from the end of episode 7.  The fight scenes and pirate plans are nonsensical, even for OFMD. And most egregiously, a prominent character is killed off in a way that feels disingenuous to his story arc, just for starters.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.  We need to go back to the beginning of season 2.  The season opens with Stede looking more piratey than ever. Beard, sash, earring… oh he’s his own fantasy of a real proper pirate.  He’s clashing swords with Izzy Hands and demanding to know where Ed is. He’s dreaming. In the dream he kills Izzy. He and Ed run into each other’s arms while screaming each other’s names. They crash into the surf. Ed says “I knew you’d find me, Babe.  I knew you’d find me, Love.” Stede keeps asking if they’re good. Ed dodges the question. Then Ed asked about the smell. Stede wakes up in a crowded room with farting and shushing roommates.

At first I thought the finale was supposed to be just a “satisfying” mirror to Stede’s dream. Stede and Ed call each other’s names and run into each other’s arms in a display that resembles a more grown up version of Stede’s dream fantasy. There’s some wild sword fighting not unlike Stede’s dream duel with Izzy. And Izzy dies.

It does mirror, but I didn’t find it satisfying. All of the characters except Stede feel flattened. Stede gets to make the heroic plan (that we never even hear) while there’s at least five pirates with better skill sets for it in the room. Ed, as Blackbeard, was described last season as “History’s greatest tactician”; Zheng Yi Sao conquered China; Jackie just took out a room full of British soldiers. Izzy and Auntie are right there. You could make arguments that Jim or Frenchie, or pretty much anyone could make a better plan. Then Stede says “It’s only suicide if we die,” which is horrible considering the plan gets Izzy killed.

Stede’s really the only person in that room who thinks Stede should be making the plans.  So I got to thinking, what if it's not just mirroring the dream? What if it is a dream? Last shot of episode 7 is an incoming cannonball. Maybe he’s unconscious.

Huge shout out to @Arty_Sunflowers on twitter (I’m not calling it X, fuck Musk) for pointing out that that isn’t the only episode that ends with a cannonball. Episode 2 ends with Jim swinging a cannonball down at Ed’s head.  Stede’s not just dreaming, he’s in the Gravy Basket!!!! (Stede even screams “Oh my God!” at the end of episode 7 in the same tone he screams “Oh my God, I don’t want to die.” in s1e9.

Stede’s hopes, dreams, and insecurities shape everything in the finale. And it helps explain the absurdities in the episode when you remember that Stede is living out pulp adventure and romance novels in his head. (He even looks like someone on the cover of one in his episode 1 dream.) But Stede can’t be dead, you say. He’s literally the main character. Well, Ed was dead for a whole episode. Let’s take a closer look.

I could and probably will do another essay on Lucius as a POV character and Ed’s mental health and how the threads they seemed to have dropped aren’t as dropped as they appear. But all of that hinges on me proving the Stede is in the Gravy Basket theory. So for this essay I’m focusing on that.

So for starters we’ve got the cannonball scenes. They’re eerily similar even if the method of cannonball propulsion is different. We don’t know Ed is dead and in the Gravy Basket for about half of episode 3. Neither does he. It makes logical sense you can be there without realizing it for a while. Buttons even said Ed didn’t know whether he was in the Gravy Basket or not in episode 4. It definitely messes with your reality.

One of Ed’s issues is self hate. He manifests Hornigold as his companion. Stede is desperate to be a good pirate and have people be proud of him. And he lives in his fantasies a lot.  So his dream shapes his experience. There’s a whole bit about Zheng needing “soft” and Auntie saying she’s proud of her. That isn’t their issue. It’s discordant with the show previously. But it is Stede’s issue. He’s manifesting.

When we first see Stede and Zheng in episode 8, they’re in a familiar spot for Stede, the bridge from episode 1. But why are they alone? When we last see Stede and Zheng in episode 7, several characters are within 5 to 10 feet of them. Did none of them decide to escape with Stede? Izzy, Lucius,  and Jim are closest. But we know Pete was there begging Stede to stay down during his fight with Zheng. Archie was definitely in the bar. That's why Jim entered the fight. So why is it only Stede and Zheng at the bridge? Because, going back to rescue others fits into Stede's hero fantasies. 

Zheng and Stede also argue about who pulled who to safety and how they got there. Stede waxes poetic about being a failure his whole life, but things always seem to work out for him. He’s such a main character mediocre white guy in this scene. He saves Zheng from two random soldiers, then she has to save him from them. Then they fight a bunch more soldiers on the beach until Blackbeard manifests in full leather from the ocean.  It looks cool. But it's absurd, even for OFMD.

Speaking of Ed, he begins the episode waxing poetic about nature and calling fishermen simple.  Those things are more Stede than Ed. Pop pop tells Ed, “You have no skills” which is something Izzy said to Stede in episode 5.  He also tells Ed, “If you were ever good at something, go do that, you bum.” If Stede’s insecurities could be distilled into one sentence, it would probably be that. (He also talks about being like a wave. I’m not 100% sure it's a The Good Place joke, but it would be thematically appropriate.)

Pop pop also tells Ed he “ruined dinner.”  Back in season 1, in Stede’s flashbacks to life with Mary and the kids, Stede thinks he’s ruined dinner. But remember, we also see another version of the scene where Stede is laughing with Mary and the kids.  Stede isn’t exactly a reliable narrator. Even in his own head.

Despite it being beyond unlikely, Ed finds soldiers reading one of Stede’s letters. I know physics in this show is sketchy, but this seems like a good time to point out no one found the red silk. Stede wants Ed to read a letter and for it to fix everything between them. The letter, plus Stede being in danger, make Ed swim out, find his leathers, and emerge from the sea with them on, while the music is the Swede’s solo from Stede’s fuckery in s1e6. Stede wants to be rescued by his handsome pirate in leather, again, just like a pulp adventure romance novel. Little chance of Ed swimming out and finding his kit.  Even less of him getting leather pants on under the water.

Back to the beach… for some reason two squads of soldiers are wandering around out on an empty beach. A visually incredible fight scene occurs. It honestly reminds me of Pete’s story in s1e2, including flips. Ed and Stede yell each other’s names exactly as in the dream. Like I’m pretty sure they used the same audio track. The same song (I Love My Baby, Nina Simone) starts playing. Ed says “I love you.” Stede says “I know.” (We’ll come back to the Han Solo joke in a minute.) They have a bit more absurd fighting then Ed, Stede, and Zheng sit on the beach complimenting each other. And Ed calls Stede “babe”.  He’s never done that outside of Stede’s dream and this moment. He’s called him mate a couple of times.  Babe is exclusively in Stede’s head.

Back in the Republic of Pirates, the crew are locked in a cell that is actually the “vista suite” at Spanish Jackie’s.  Izzy gets a heroic entrance. It’s as cool as Stede thinks Izzy is. And he gives a speech that sounds like what he probably told Stede to get him to relinquish the suit in episode 5. Piracy is about belonging to something. You can’t ignore the wishes of the crew.  Izzy also knows details about Captain Kidd and Pinocchio. Not impossible, but not exactly Izzy’s wheelhouse. It is Stede’s though. He’s obsessed with pirate tales and he read Pinocchio to the crew.

Stede, Ed, and Zheng show up just as Jackie has poisoned a bunch of soldiers. Stede makes a plan, despite everyone else being more qualified. Everyone disguises themselves as soldiers. Now we’ve seen the crew of the Revenge wear disguises. They never do the weird free styling they do here. Only Stede actually looks like a British officer. Zheng at least wears the disguise properly. Suddenly Ed has a multi gun bandolier like Blackbeard in the books. Pete ripped the arms off. Izzy is still wearing his vest. Doesn’t make sense if we’re going for stealth. Neither does not checking hostage Ricky for weapons or putting Izzy and his wooden leg at the front of the group.

If I'm right, Stede wouldn't know Ricky was behind the explosions. However,  Ricky is basically evil Stede. He's Stede's perfect foil. All of this is reflecting Stede's psyche. So, of course, it's Ricky.

Izzy gets shot and says quite a lot of nonsense in his death scene. “They love you, Ed.” Um, 3 of them were going to leave like five minutes ago. Ed has made some progress with the crew, but we’re not at “they love you Ed”.  The only person who thinks the crew loves Ed is Stede. Stede who weeps for Izzy while most of the crew aren’t showing much emotion. Stede can barely deal with his own big feelings. His fantasy doesn’t give the crew room to have them. Also, given the rest of the season, having Jim just let Ed be the person cradling Izzy doesn’t fit. The crew is also pretty stony at Izzy’s funeral.

I feel like it should be noted the last shot of Izzy in episode 7, he’s got one are around Jim and a hand on Lucius’s shoulder. He sat in Wee John’s lap in episode 6. Reactions to his death don’t make sense.

Also, Izzy’s terrible grave marker is very … Stede. He’d think it was a brilliant idea.

I didn't understand at first why Izzy had to die, even in Stede's dream world. Stede clearly likes him a lot better now. Why kill him? Well, it's because we're supposed to think Buttons is there to go to the Gravy Basket for Izzy. When actually he's already arrived in the Gravy Basket and he's there for Stede. Also, mentors die in pulp adventure novels. Stede sees Izzy as a mentor.

They go aboard the Revenge for Lucius and Pete’s wedding. It’s cute that the crew performs the ceremony, but I’d venture a guess that’s because Stede doesn’t know a captain should do it if it's legally binding. Stede does love the romance of it all.  The sudden uptick in monogamy is also very Stede. He barely understands monogamous relationships. Polyamory is beyond him.

Then Stede and Ed, who earlier told Zheng they’d help hunt Ricky, go back to the island where Izzy is buried to start an inn in a run down shack.  Stede knows Ed wants to do this because Ed told the (Taika’s) kids that they ran an inn.  We hear Ed ask “Jesus, what is that smell?” Now, at first, I thought Izzy, because Ed “knows the smell of my rotting first mate”. But what was the last thing to happen in Stede’s dream? A fart joke.

Last scene is Buttons landing on Izzy’s grave. To retrieve Izzy from the Gravy Basket? No, Izzy’s not dead. He’s with Jim and Lucius, probably watching over Stede’s corpse. Buttons is there to retrieve Stede.

This theory fixes the plot holes and dropped threads problem. We’re coming back to them next season. Ed's amends making should be far from over. And we see several moments during the season where he acknowledged that. And yet here on the island they've set up a horror movie and called it a happy ending.  Well, Stede is the type of boss who thinks things are fixed with a pizza (Calypso) party. In Stede's mind, this is a happy ending.  But really Ed is still off finding himself,  Stede is (temporarily) dead, and Izzy (who is not dead!) is probably guarding Stede's corpse.

They haven't resolved the domestic violence thread, but they haven't dropped it, either. Izzy is alive. Stede and Ed aren't together (yet). There's still time.

This also explains some of the freewheeling nonsense David Jenkins has been spouting in articles. Ed doesn’t see Izzy as a father figure and mentor, Stede does.  Stede almost turned to mush when Izzy approved of him. And David is writing a three volume adventure novel. Han Solo (Stede) is in carbonate (the Gravy Basket). The perfect end to the second act. See, I told you we’d get back to the Han Solo joke.

I still have problems with the season.  I really think they need a sensitivity reader. Even just implying a newly disabled character was fridged is certainly a choice. Especially given the amount of time devoted to how the character handled the disability. The DV scenes were brutal, as well as the suicide attempt, and the Human Puppet joke. I think they need someone trauma informed and disabled in the writer's room. (David Jenkins hit me up!)

Overall, I liked season 2. Especially once I realized Izzy wasn't dead. I'm looking forward to season 3, the conclusion of the Gentle Beard arc, and hopefully 6 seasons and a movie of Izzy (to be clear, he's not captain) and the kids sailing up and down the coast being gay and doing crimes, occasionally checking in with Stede and Ed.

Seriously, David, call me.

Historical Note: IRL Blackbeard died on November 22, 1718, killed in a naval battle off Ocracoke Island in North Carolina. IRL Stede Bonnet died December 10, 1718, hanged in Charles Town, South Carolina for piracy.  IRL Israel “Izzy” Hands survives piracy, death date unknown. I know this show doesn’t actually care about historical accuracy, but this lends a little support for my Ed died, then Stede died, and Izzy isn’t dead theory.

[aria-the-motherblog]

Oh my god, halsin is a werebear isn't he?

Minor spoilers

This is headcanon but think about it. Both narrative and mechanics seem to point to it

For starters my guy runs around the woods as a bear for fun. He just regularly lives his life as a bear. DND druids can only wild shape for a few hours at a time mechanically speaking and they don't really take on the personality of that animal

Halsin does though. On several occasions he is overcome with his "wild nature" even if you don't play along with the bear scene, he talks about how he's poly like a bear, he also has bear like anger issues, not being able to be discreet in the goblin camp for example.

Speaking of when you meet him at the goblin camp he's still in his wild shape. A mechanical part of bg3 druids is that when you loose your wild shape up you are left with full HP in humanoid form, but somehow the goblins never saw elf druid halsin? Only the "warbear"? You want me to believe that these tiny creatures dragged a basically nuclear 5th level big daddy Halsin into a worg cage. Bull.

Lythari are werewolves not werebears but I don't think it's a coincidence that they live in communities with moon and WOOD elves.

It's also not nothing that werebears have a easier time bonding with bears and he has not one but two bears back in the druid grove Ormn, who refers to halsin as "master" and is absolutely devastated by the missing Halsin and Tuffet that Halsin remarks as getting lazy and leaves instructions not to feed her to Netti. I don't think Bosk is one of his considering he is. Far. From. Home.

And let's talk about appearances, werebears are said to be exceptionally tall and muscular in humanoid form. (I understand and like halsin's theory that he doesn't need a reason to be so big, but if he was a werebear it would explain it). They also are usually extra hairy and have beards now our elf man doesn't have a beard but... Sense when do elves have chest hair? Imo probably the most damning piece of evidence regarding his appearance is his scar.

Halsin obtained the scar while in wild shape. As I've mentioned before druids that are brought to 0 HP in wild shape transform back with full HP. So why then would a mark from let's be real that hit was what 4 points of damage, retain in his elf form unless our favorite duck loving dweeb wasn't in wild shape at all but in his bear form as a werebear.

All of this can be explained, but most werecreatures have some level of plausible deniability that's how they work.

Lastly the biggest piece of mechanical evidence is his Cave Bear wild shape that is totally unique to him. Other druids do not get this. It's just because he's super aligned with bears but why is he super aligned with bears? Because he's a werebear

So why does it never come up? I don't think Halsin actually knows. He was a child when he started playing with Thaniel and probably not that old when he started to realize he needed to protect Thaniel. By the time he would have started transforming into a bear he might have just thought it was a druid thing.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

hi! for starters, i adore your blog! all of the tips are actually helpful, and your research is really well done! would you mind making a post about ritual sacrifice? thanks in advance!

Writing Notes: Ritual Sacrifice

Sacrifice - a religious rite in which an object is offered to a divinity in order to establish, maintain, or restore a right relationship of a human being to the sacred order. It is a complex phenomenon that has been found in the earliest known forms of worship and in all parts of the world.

A wide variety of animals have served as sacrificial offerings.

Example: In ancient Greece and India, oblations included a number of important domestic animals, such as the goat, ram, bull, ox, and horse.

In Greek religion, all edible birds, wild animals of the hunt, and fish were used.

In ancient Judaism, the kind and number of animals for the various sacrifices was carefully stipulated so that the offering might be acceptable and thus fully effective.

This sort of regulation is generally found in sacrificial cults; the offering must be appropriate either to the deity to whom or to the intention for which it is to be presented.

Very often the sacrificial species (animal or vegetable) was closely associated with the deity to whom it was offered as the deity’s symbolic representation or even its incarnation.

Thus, in the Vedic ritual the goddesses of night and morning received the milk of a black cow having a white calf;

the “bull of heaven,” Indra, was offered a bull, and

Surya, the sun god, was offered a white male goat.

Similarly, the ancient Greeks sacrificed black animals to the deities of the dark underworld;

swift horses to the sun god Helios;

pregnant sows to the earth mother Demeter; and

the dog, guardian of the dead, to Hecate, goddess of darkness.

The Syrians sacrificed fish, regarded as the lord of the sea and guardian of the realm of the dead, to the goddess Atargatis and ate the consecrated offering in a communion meal with the deity, sharing in the divine power.

An especially prominent sacrificial animal was the bull (or its counterparts, the boar and the ram), which, as the representation and embodiment of the cosmic powers of fertility, was sacrificed to numerous fertility gods (e.g., the Norse god Freyr; the Greek “bull of the earth,” Zeus Chthonios; and the Indian “bull of heaven,” Indra).

The occurrence of human sacrifice appears to have been widespread and its intentions various, ranging from communion with a god and participation in his divine life to expiation and the promotion of the earth’s fertility.

It seems to have been adopted by agricultural rather than by hunting or pastoral peoples.

Of all the worldly manifestations of the life-force, the human undoubtedly impressed men as the most valuable and thus the most potent and efficacious as an oblation.

Example: In Mexico, the belief that the sun needed human nourishment led to sacrifices in which as many as 20,000 victims perished annually in the Aztec and Nahua calendrical maize ritual in the 14th century CE.

Bloodless human sacrifices also developed and assumed greatly different forms:

a Celtic ritual involved the sacrifice of a woman by immersion, and

among the Maya in Mexico young maidens were drowned in sacred wells;

in Peru women were strangled;

in ancient China the king’s retinue was commonly buried with him, and such internments continued intermittently until the 17th century.

Bloodless Offerings. Among the many life-giving substances that have been used as libations are:

milk,

honey,

vegetable and animal oils,

beer,

wine, and

water.

Of these, the last two have been especially prominent.

Wine is the “blood of the grape” and thus the “blood of the earth,” a spiritual beverage that invigorates gods and men.

Water is always the sacred “water of life,” the primordial source of existence and the bearer of the life of plants, animals, human beings, and even the gods.

Because of its great potency, water, like blood, has been widely used in purificatory and expiatory rites to wash away defilements and restore spiritual life. It has also, along with wine, been an important offering to the dead as a revivifying force.

Divine Offerings. One further conception must be briefly mentioned:

a god himself may be sacrificed.

This notion was elaborated in many mythologies; it is fundamental in some sacrificial rituals.

In early sacrifice, the victim has something of the god in itself, but in the sacrifice of a god, the victim is identified with the god.

Examples:

At the festival of the ancient Mexican sun god Huitzilopochtli, the statue of the god, which was made from beetroot paste and kneaded in human blood and which was identified with the god, was divided into pieces, shared out among the devotees, and eaten.

In the Hindu soma ritual (related to the haoma ritual of ancient Persia), the soma plant, which is identified with the god Soma, is pressed for its intoxicating juice, which is then ritually consumed.

The Eucharist, as understood in many of the Christian churches, contains similar elements. In short, Jesus is really present in the bread and wine that are ritually offered and then consumed. According to the traditional eucharistic doctrine of Roman Catholicism, the elements of bread and wine are “transubstantiated” into the body and blood of Christ; i.e., their whole substance is converted into the whole substance of the body and blood, although the outward appearances of the elements, their “accidents,” remain.

Sir James George Frazer, a British anthropologist and folklorist, author of The Golden Bough, saw sacrifice as originating from magical practices in which the ritual slaying of a god was performed as a means of rejuvenating the god.

The king or chief of a tribe was held to be sacred because he possessed mana, or sacred power, which assured the tribe’s well-being. When he became old and weak, his mana weakened, and the tribe was in danger of decline.

The king was thus slain and replaced with a vigorous successor.

In this way the god was slain to save him from decay and to facilitate his rejuvenation.

The old god appeared to carry away with him various weaknesses and fulfilled the role of an expiatory victim and scapegoat.

Henri Hubert and Marcel Mauss, French sociologists, concentrated their investigations on Hindu and Hebrew sacrifice, arriving at the conclusion that:

“sacrifice is a religious act which, through the consecration of a victim, modifies the condition of the moral person who accomplishes it or that of certain objects with which he is concerned.”

Like Smith, they believed that a sacrifice establishes a relationship between the realms of the sacred and the profane.

This occurs through the mediation of the ritually slain victim, which acts as a buffer between the two realms, and through participation in a sacred meal.

The rituals chosen by Hubert and Mauss for analysis, however, are not those of preliterate societies.

Another study by Mauss helped to broaden the notion of sacrifice as gift.

It was an old idea that man makes a gift to the god but expects a gift in return.

The Latin formula do ut des (“I give that you may give”) was formulated in Classical times.

In the Vedic religion, the oldest stratum of religion known to have existed in India, one of the Brahmanas (commentaries on the Vedas, or sacred hymns, that were used in ritual sacrifices) expressed the same principle: “Here is the butter; where are your gifts?”

But, according to Mauss, in giving it is not merely an object that is passed on but a part of the giver, so that a firm bond is forged.

The owner’s mana is conveyed to the object, and, when the object is given away, the new owner shares in this mana and is in the power of the giver.

The gift thus creates a bond.

Even more, however, it makes power flow both ways to connect the giver and the receiver; it invites a gift in return.

German anthropologists have emphasized the idea of culture history, in which the entire history of mankind is seen as a system of coherent and articulated phases and strata, with certain cultural phenomena appearing at specific levels of culture.

Leo Frobenius, the originator of the theory that later became known as the Kulturkreislehre, distinguished the creative or expressive phase of a culture, in which a new insight assumes its specific form, and the phase of application, in which the original significance of the new insight degenerates.

Working within this context, Adolf E. Jensen attempted to explain why men have resorted to the incomprehensible act of killing other men or animals and eating them for the glorification of a god or many gods.

Blood Sacrifice is linked not with the cultures of the hunter–gatherers but with those of the cultivators; its origin is in the ritual killing of the archaic cultivator cultures, which, in turn, is grounded in myth.

For Jensen, the early cultivators all knew the idea of a mythic primal past in which not men but Dema lived on the earth and prominent among them were the Dema-deities. The central element of the myth is the slaying of a Dema-deity, an event that inaugurated human history and gave shape to the human lot.

The Dema became men, subject to birth and death, whose self-preservation depends upon the destruction of life.

The deity became in some way associated with the realm of the dead, and, from the body of the slain deity, crop plants originated, so that the eating of the plants is an eating of the deity.

Ritual Killing, whether of animals or men, is a cultic reenactment of the mythological event.

Strictly speaking, the action is not a sacrifice because there is no offering to a god; rather, it is a way to keep alive the memory of primeval events.

Blood sacrifice as found in the later higher cultures is a persistence of the ritual killing in a degenerated form.

Because the victim is identified with the deity, later expiatory sacrifices also become intelligible: sin is an offense against the moral order established at the beginning of human history; the killing of the victim is an intensified act restoring that order.

Another interpretation of some historical interest is that of Sigmund Freud in his work Totem und Tabu (1913; Eng. trans. Totem and Taboo).

Freud’s theory was based on the assumption that the Oedipus complex is innate and universal: It is normal for a child to wish to have a sexual relationship with its mother and to will the death of its father; this is often achieved symbolically.

In the primal horde, although the sons did slay their father, they never consummated a sexual union with their mother; in fact, they set up specific taboos against such sexual relations.

According to Freud, the ritual slaughter of an animal was instituted to reenact the primeval act of parricide.

The rite, however, reflected an ambivalent attitude.

After the primal father had been slain, the sons felt some remorse for their act, and, thus, the sacrificial ritual expressed the desire not only for the death of the father but also for reconciliation and communion with him through the substitute victim.

Freud claimed that his reconstruction of the rise of sacrifice was historical, but this hardly seems probable.

Sacrificer. In general, it may be said that the one who makes sacrifices is man, either an individual or a collective group—a family, a clan, a tribe, a nation, a secret society.

Frequently, special acts must be performed by the sacrificer before and sometimes also after the sacrifice.

In the Vedic cult, the sacrificer and his wife were required to undergo an initiation (diksha) involving:

ritual bathing,

seclusion,

fasting, and

prayer,

the purpose of which was to remove them from the profane world and to purify them for contact with the sacred world.

At the termination of the sacrifice came a rite of “desacralization” (avabhrita) in which they bathed in order to remove any sacred potencies that might have attached themselves during the sacrifice.

There are sacrifices in which there are no participants other than the individual or collective sacrificer.

Usually, however, one does not venture to approach sacred things directly and alone; they are too lofty and serious a matter.

An intermediary—certain persons or groups who fulfill particular requirements or qualifications—is necessary.

In many cases, sacrificing by unauthorized persons is expressly forbidden and may be severely punished:

Example: In the book of Leviticus, Korah and his followers, who revolted against Moses and his brother Aaron and arrogated the priestly office of offering incense, were consumed by fire.

The qualified person—whether the head of a household, the old man of a tribe, the king, or the priest—acts as the appointed representative on behalf of a community.

Serious illness, drought, pestilence, epidemic, famine, and other misfortune and calamity have universally been regarded as the workings of supernatural forces.

Often they have been understood as the effects of offenses against the sacred order committed by individuals or communities, deliberately or unintentionally.

Such offenses break the relationship with the sacred order or impede the flow of divine life.

Thus, it has been considered necessary in times of crisis, individual or communal, to offer sacrifices to propitiate sacred powers and to wipe out offenses (or at least neutralize their effects) and restore the relationship.

Example: Among the Yoruba of West Africa, blood sacrifice must be made to the gods, especially the earth deities, who, as elsewhere in Africa, are regarded as the divine punishers of sin.

For the individual, the oblation may be a fowl or a goat;

for an entire community, it may be hundreds of animals (in former days, the principal oblation was human).

Once consecrated and ritually slain, the oblations are buried, burnt, or left exposed but never shared by the sacrificer.

There are sacrifices in which the victim does serve as a substitute for the guilty.

In some West African cults a person believed to be under death penalty by the gods offers an animal substitute to which he transfers his sins.

The animal, which is then ritually killed, is buried with complete funeral rites as though it were the human person.

Thus the guilty person is dead, and it is an innocent man who is free to begin a new life.

Fertility. Another distinctive feature of the first-fruits offering is that it serves to replenish the sacred potencies of the earth depleted by the harvest and to ensure thereby the continued regeneration of the crop.

Thus, it is one of many sacrificial rites that have as their intention the seasonal renewal and reactivation of the fertility of the earth.

Fertility rites usually involve some form of blood sacrifice—in former days especially human sacrifice.

In some human sacrifices, the victim represented a deity who “in the beginning” allowed himself to be killed so that from his body edible vegetation might grow.

The ritual slaying of the human victim amounted to a repetition of the primordial act of creation and thus a renewal of vegetational life.

In other human sacrifices the victim was regarded as representing a vegetation spirit that annually died at harvest time so that it might be reborn in a new crop.

In still other sacrifices at planting time or in time of famine, the blood of the victim—animal or human—was let upon the ground and its flesh buried in the soil to fertilize the earth and recharge its potencies.

Building Sacrifices. Numerous instances are known of animal and human sacrifices made in the course of:

the construction of houses, shrines, and other buildings, and

in the laying out of villages and towns.

Their purpose has been to consecrate the ground by establishing the beneficent presence of the sacred order and by repelling or rendering harmless the demonical powers of the place. Example:

In some West African cults, before the central pole of a shrine or a house is installed, an animal is ritually slain, its blood being poured around the foundations and its body being put into the posthole.

On the one hand, this sacrifice is made to the earth deities and the supernatural powers of the place—the real owners—so that the human owner may take possession and be ensured against malevolent interferences with the construction of the building and its later occupation and use.

On the other hand, the sacrifice is offered to the cult deity to establish its benevolent presence in the building.

The organization of sacrificial rites in the different cultures and religions has undoubtedly been influenced by a number of factors.

Example. Economic considerations certainly have had some impact upon primitive peoples in the:

selection of the victim and

the time of sacrifice and

in the determination of whether the victim is consumed or totally destroyed and

whether the sacrificer is an individual or a collective group.

The importance of such factors is an aspect of sacrifice that deserves increased investigation.

Nevertheless, sacrifice is not a phenomenon that can be reduced to rational terms; it is fundamentally a religious act that has been of profound significance to individuals and social groups throughout history, a symbolic act that establishes a relationship between man and the sacred order.

For many peoples of the world, throughout time, sacrifice has been the very heart of their religious life.

Accusations of human sacrifice in ancient and modern times have been far more widespread than the ritual practice ever was.

The ancient Greeks told many myths that involved human sacrifice, which has led some researchers to posit that rites among the Greeks and Romans which involved the killing of animals may have originally involved human victims.

At the end of the 20th century, however, archaeological evidence did not support this claim.

Some early Christians were falsely accused of cannibalism, consuming sacrificial victims at nocturnal feasts, a misunderstanding probably due to the secrecy surrounding the Eucharistic rite and the use of the words body and blood.

From the Middle Ages until quite recently, Jews were often maliciously accused of having sacrificed Christian children at Passover, an accusation which has been termed the blood libel.

Sources: 1 2 ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

You're too lovely, thanks so much! Hope this helps with your writing. Found all of this really interesting as well.

[tyrantisterror]

A couple months ago, one of the kids at the daycare brought in a D&D starter set and asked me to DM a game for him and some of the other kids in my class. Now, I had considered doing this in the past, but written it off for a variety of reasons, mainly asusming it'd be a couple days of chaos before the kids get sick of all the math involved and lose interest. But if a kid broaches an idea and others seem on board, I feel it's kind of my duty to at least try it.

So far my assumptions have been... mostly correct? Like, 70% of my predictions have come true, it is chaos, ten-years olds are the most murder-happy murder hobo PCs you could possibly imagine, and they've really been pushing my improv skills to their absolute limits with the choices they've made (and the constrictions I have on me as a daycare teacher). But they haven't gotten bored with the math, and they absolutely love playing the game still, which is nice. I like it when my students are passionate about something.

Anyway, I bring this up because seeing how children play with D&D canon has made me realize one critical fact:

D&D needs a Mons Game spinoff.

Kids love monsters. This is not my bias, it is something that has been categorically proven to me in my four years of working at a daycare. Every kid loves the idea of weird, impossible creatures, and they love the idea of befriending a whole horde of those creatures even more so. One of my kids in the daycare D&D campaign is making it his goal to find and tame every monster he can find in the kid-friendly monster manuals I bought for the class. He wants a Tarasque and a Bullete and an Owlbear and on and on and on, and keeps proposing tactics for capturing them based on his time playing Ark: Survival Evolved, a game where you can tame dinosaurs and mythic beasts while trying to survive a wild world full of danger and obstacles.

And it turns out that, while the mechanics of D&D don't support this, the philosophy of how its settings are structured according to those mechanics does. D&D is filled with hundreds of wild and imaginative monsters, all with distinct appearances, habits, adaptations, and environmental needs. The need to make the "dungeons" part of D&D interesting has required it to build really interesting monster ecosystems, and, much like mons games, the need to keep players buying new content has resulted in them building a vast library of creatures, because selling $50 books containing a slew of new monsters is a pretty guaranteed way to get money. D&D may not be a mons game, but it's accidentally made its setting perfectly suited to be one.

And what a money-maker that would be! Skew it more towards a child audience in tone, use simpler mechanics so kids can hop into it without spending, say, three solid weeks of afterschool daycare time crafting character sheets more or less one on one, and you'd have a game that would easily hook a younger audience while planting seeds of interest into the bigger game.

Of course, there are already indie TTRPG mons games, and I imagine some of them are actually good, but unfortunately they're not exactly easily obtainable on a daycare teacher's budget. And, you know, they wouldn't let you make a team of a bulette, an otyugh, a gray render, and an owlbear.

But then again, Wizards of the Coast continues to be absolute bastards, so maybe this idea is too good for them. Which makes it a good thing they're never going to read this blog post.

[linkedspirit-fanartfunart]

[Image Description: A colored line-up of various Legend of Zelda characters for the Linked Spirit AU. The characters read left-to-right: "Marin, she/her, pre-Hyule Warriors" is a young redhead girl with a purple cloak and maroon and white dress. She has her hands politely held in front of her. "Groose, he/him, Skyward Sword" is a redheaded man with his hands on his hips, wearing a blue tunic and a green caplet. "Greg Moblin, he/him, LoZ 1" is a large gold bulldog like moblin holding a flower in his hands. He wears a red shirt and pants, with a green poncho. "Purah, she/her, Breath of the Wild" a young teenager wearing a black poofy skirt and a tan shirt and coat with red accents. She has a red streak in her white hair, posing with her hand next to her face. "Tulin, he/him, Breath of the Wild" is a pullet age white Rito with one arm as a wing and the other arm ends with a Wind Waker style hand and wing 'sleeve' "Aror, he/him, Twilight Princess, Crossbow Training" is a child Twili oc with red hair and wears a green over the shoulder wrap over a white tunic. "Midna, she/her, Twilight Princess" is a older Twili, with long fluffy ears wearing a black and teal collared cape, She wears a dark purple skirt with a grey fur trim and a wolf head belt clip on the side of her hip. "Medli, she/her, Wind Waker" is a teenaged white Rito, her red hair in a ponytail. She holds a hand to her chest. "Aryll, she/her, Wind Waker" is a young teen with her hand raised excitedly. She wears a purple skirt with a skull pattern, and a blue shirt with flower patterns. She has the Wind Waker's starter sail wrapped around her waist. "Ol' Niko, he/him, Wind Waker, Spirit Tracks" is an elderly man, smiling with his hands on his cane. He wears a red and white stripped shirt with a blue vest. "Gulley, he/him, A Link Between Worlds" is a blond child wearing Link's Cap and a matching green vest over his yellow tunic. He has his hands on his hips. "Ravio, he/him, A Link to the Past, A Link Between Worlds" is a teenager with dark hair that fades into light blue. He waves, winking, wearing a floor length purple robe and dark purple blue. "Grandpa Smith, he/him, Minish Cap, Four Swords Adventures" is a greying beared man, drying his hands on a cloth. He wears a long leather apron over his green tunic, and wears a green bandana. "Skull Kid, he/him, Ocarina of Time, Majora's Mask" is a Skull Kid wearing a orange hat and tunic, with green shorts, collar, and gloves. He has a v like mark on his forehead. He holds up a horned skull mask in front of him. "Lady Alma, she/her, Wand of Gamelon" is a young woman with short red hair and a tiara. She raises a hand to her chin dantily, wearing a teal shirt and darker teal skirt. End ID]

A few "NPCs"

I can't say ALL of them will make an appearance in the comic, actually, but these are NPCs that are important to the Links, in one way or another, while also having a few significant design differences from canon (thus why no Linebeck or spryte lol.)

[pincushionx]

Hunter AU

A sneak peak sketch of an au of Hunter!

I’m currently naming it DOG Au but that might change in this future.

In this Au, Belos previous Golden Guard had lasted 27 years, with Belos truly believing that he was the ‘one’, only for the Guard to betray him. This is the most emotion and even hurt Belos has felt in decades and as he results he vows that the next one will be perfect. As a result he raises Hunter differently then his previous Grimwalkers. For starters, that Hunter is created at age 3 unlike the young adults of before.

Belos and Hunter are also closer in this au (for the worst) With Hunter no longer just being his right hand man but also the man’s eyes and hands in general. Which is him essentially doing more of the messy work then shown in canon. With Belos teaching Hunter more things (including personal ) then in Canon. He teaches Hunter how to replicate bile magic with his staff along side staff exclusive magic, potions, and even glyphs. He tells Hunter that only he the Emperor and the Golden Guard are permitted to use true wild magic as they are the only ones that can maintain it. He still doesn’t let Hunter use wild magic to help his curse still.

Hunter is aware he’s a Grimwalker.

However, no one besides Belos knows Hunters face in this, not even the coven heads like in canon. Hunter was also a lot more isolated in his childhood with him only appearing for scout training at age 11 for scout training and passing with flying colors ( beating record set by Lilith) Before Hunter was raised and taught by Belos only, essentially messing him up during his primary developing years. Only after he was 11 was he allowed high end tutors and training outside of Belos. He officially became Golden guard at 13.

Hunter is still a dork in this au but he was taught more masking and manipulations skills by Belos. He did a lot of Belos dirty work and is overall more ruthless with the hopes of being the perfect grimwalker. He still acts similar then in canon but with a additional layer of grime to him.

Canon events in the show involving Hunter play out quite differently in this AU

A more detailed explanation when I actually finish these drawings lol

Here’s a sketch of his suit in this AU

[pessimisticpigeonsworld]

If Nettles was white, she would be as popular as Lyanna, Brienne or Arya, and y’all know it.

She grew up a homeless orphan (which is why it’s so insulting when people try to act like she’s a freaking idiot who doesn’t know how to bathe herself yet she can tame a dragon🤦🏽‍♀️ Put most of the highborn women in her position and they wouldn’t survive a day in her shoes).

She’s the only known non-Valyrian dragonrider who claims a wild dragon. A prince who believes in Valyrian supremacy falls in love with her to the point where he’s willing to sacrifice his life for her. Nettles singlehandedly disproves the whole idea of Targaryen exceptionalism and their blood purity. She slowly earns a dragon’s trust by bringing him sheep, and gradually he lets her closer, and then forms the dragonrider bond and lets her fly. up until this point, nobody had tried a strategy like that before.

Nettles is self-made. She’s self-taught. She’s loved for herself. She survives a freaking war and becomes a fire goddess/witch. Who wouldn’t want her ? Who wouldn’t want to be her ? Unlike Rhaenyra and Alicent, she’s the final girl of F&B.

Once again, I don't understand where you got that I'm anti Nettles? I'm anti Nettles x Daemon, but other than that theory, I very much am a fan of Nettles as a character. I won't say that there isn't racism and unfairness that happen regarding Nettles' character (though I haven't seen it personally), because people can be really shitty. But me personally, again, I'm not anti Nettles, I just dislike certain groups of her stans.

Again, I don't deny that Nettles was a strong woman. She endured many things most characters in F&B don't and most likely survived the Dance. However, I do disagree with some of the ideas you're stating as fact.

For starters, we don't know if Nettles is non-Valyrian; that's one of the many theories surrounding her, but it's not confirmed, so stating it as fact is misleading. Just because she lacks traditional Valyrian features doesn't means she isn't a dragonseed.

Jace and his brothers don't look Valyrian but they very obviously are of Valyrian descent. Rhaenys, the queen who never was, had black hair; Duncan the son of Aegon V looked like his mother, Betha Blackwood; Aegor Rivers also had black hair; Baelor Breakspear had dark hair; Daeron son of Maekar had sandy brown hair; Rhaenys the daughter of Rhaegar had her mother, Elia Martell's features.

Moving on, Daemon's relationship with Nettles is ambiguous. We don't know if they were in a romantic relationship or if his attack on Aemond was purely to save her (though I'm sure that was part of his decision). Again, you are stating a theory you believe as fact, even though it's unconfirmed.

I'm not going to touch the whole thing of Targaryen exceptionalism, because, as I said earlier, Nettles' parentage is unconfirmed. But the whole blood purity thing still hasn't been disproven at any point of GRRM's works; they intermarried to preserve their magic blood, the magic blood still exists in ASOIAF due to the incest.

Nettles is an important character in the story of the Dance, but she isn't the "final girl" you claim she is, let alone of the whole book. There are several dragon riders who survived the Dance and thrived. Rhaena is the ancestor of the Tyrells in the main series. Aegon III is the ancestor of Daenerys, the Baratheons, any remaining Blackfyres, and possibly Jon Snow and Young Griff. Baela and Alyn are the ancestors of Aurane Waters and the Velaryons.

The book of F&B is so much more than the Dance of the Dragons. Saying that Nettles is the "final girl" of the book doesn't make any sense when she only appears in a few sections. That's like saying Alys Rivers is actually the main character of the book. Nettles disappears after the Dance and doesn't appear in any other event. She does nothing else after her disappearance and has relatively little impact on the history of Westeros post Dance.

I have absolutely no idea where you're getting the whole "fire goddess/witch" thing. However, you have already been throwing out theories and your personal biases as fact, so I don't think it matters. I'm not trying to control who your fav is, I totally understand wanting to be a certain book character. But that doesn't mean you can act like everyone else is wrong for not having the same fav as you.

It's that kind of entitlement, thinking you're better than everyone else that makes people not like Nettles stans. It's almost on par with stansas and Alicent stans. People like you project so hard onto your favs, you take any perceived insult, critique, or argument as a personal attack. It's exhausting interacting with people like you.

[dreamtydraw]

Hi ! Can you tell us more about what kind of dynamic Corvus has with the other LIs if you played their route ?

okay so i took to play everyone's route ( except Cirrus chapter 2 ) so I can finally answer ! I'll start from the worst relationship to the best relationship Corvus has with the Lis ( fun fact you can notice how comfortable they are with them based on how much Corvus is willing to show their appearance )

For starter Corvus fear Cirrus like a wild rabbit would fear any predator. They are NOT comfortable around him because of the fact he's showing up as a sort of superior authority that makes them feel extremely vulnerable and because they constantly fear that someone could use them, the gut instinct of fear push them to AVOID Cirrus. If I want to explore Cirrus route I would make up another character because this two are not compatible.

Now Oleander and Corvus is a particular relationship- There isn't more honest than someone who dislike you and Corvus dislike him, more precisely they dislike how amused he seems to be from their torment. This weird relationship of hate is mixed with a sour strange need of validation, Corvus despite their inner monologue of discomfort do enjoy Oleander's company and is willing to offer more loyalty than they claim they would. I don't really know how Oleander view this relationship as for now I kinda have a hard time understanding his personality, so maybe i'll develop it once I have a better grasp of who he is as a character.

Francesco is a breath of fresh air for Corvius. They abandoned their whole guard because their heart wants to believe on a stranger kindness and they genuinely enjoy spending time with him, it helps forgets about death. Even if their motive aren't all pure hearted, Corvus do see in Francesco a friend. They like the way he approach the world and his strange mannerisms. The relationship is ambiguous as they both share mixed signals of interest but as for now ( so beginning of the story ) it's casual on Corvus side ( but I do hc the theorie that Francesco might know mc from outside the mountain and already likes or have stronger feeling toward them than we know. So he surely like them way more than platonicaly and is overjoyed to spend time with them. )

Now let's dive straight for them, hey should make out- that the understanding everyone around them have of what Corvus and Keir relationship might be. The worst situationship to witness, they both fumble at each other attempt to take that step in the relationship and the slow burn is a bit too burning for how slow it is.

Now outside of the romantic aspect, I do like their relationship in the fact they don't really share the same morals but respect the one the other share and are open to understand it. It's rare to find someone who you feel at ease despite your difference and it offer instant where you can see things from another point of view. Corvus is literally an enjoyer of material collections who do not want to be seen as kind for the fear of being used by others while Keir does not find interest in owning more than necessary + actively do goods to help others. They complete each other in a way that don't stop them from being who they are individualy and I swear to god i am a big sucker for Moon and Sun themed pairing okay-

Also on a more developed part but Keir's route is the most fitting route for Corvus because it force them to go against one of their insecurity which is the idea of being used + not having any worth. In this branch of the story Corvus find a purpose and something that makes living worth it when they enjoy the fruit of helping a community.

Thank you for reading this far ! It's not super detailed but that really because I wait for more materials / understanding of what I could use from the game to build Corvus relationship with the lis !

[lepurcinus]

In reality, even if I get to joke about my concepts of Watership Down in the Himalayas or Watership Down with Pikas. Also you know how it really bothers me the whole idea of trading rabbits with hares lol.

Because that changes the story completely and is just another example of people not being able to let go of the idea that the only relevant element of WD has to be violence and darkness and death. Hares are solitary by nature, they don't fight each other unless it's for mates. Basically the whole plot of finding a new home and community and leadership and the downtrodden is not going to happen that way.

You would have to be creating an original story instead rather than adapting.

Because the story is about rabbits, you're not going to trade the lion king for tigers just because they seem more "awesome" to you. Or White Fang for a coyote because of the dynamics. I know that as such there are adaptations that can turn a story into something completely different while still keeping the idea of course, but the thing is that they usually also try to be something new as a product rather than an adaptation itself.

And well the stigma that rabbits are cute innocent creatures and hares weird Lovecraft cryptids. It's changing unknown aspects of their nature just on the basis of how "disturbing" their appearance is.

For starters the terrible stigma Watership Down has of being just a "scary" story has a lot to do with it, no it's not. It's a story full of layers and it bothers me a little to know that because of scenes in the film they have to believe it is.

Plus the rabbits themselves have another stigma. People just can't help but see them as "cuddly critters". When they are not, rabbits are also WILD ANIMALS, they have to deal with a lot of crap every day, rabbits also fight, bleed and bite each other to death. Any rabbit owner knows how terribly chaotic they can be and wild rabbits are aggressive as shit with each other.

Stories like Watership Down HELP remove that stigma, even with certain outdated or unknown topics at the time Richard Adams managed to make his slightly to anthropomorphic rabbits feel like the non-human animals they are, he gave them culture, language, myths and mild intelligence but adapted in a way that sounds believable to anyone who knows the basics about rabbits, even the story itself is filled with thousands of facts about these animals that allow you to learn about them.

Watership Down doesn't censor their reality, and not just because they kill each other or some stupid thing they always say. It doesn't censor the rabbits as the animals they are, they eat their waste, they have in mind the idea of reproducing almost as a law, they are not immediate friends of their animal companions and they even have a hard time communicating with them.

Watership Down is about rabbits because it shows their reality, their anguish and daily struggles, events that although fictional and sometimes fantastic are not far from the possibilities of what a rabbit can do. And it also works with rabbits because it has the whole element of community, family, peer bonding, leadership and knowing one's value and what one is good at.

A lot of that is lost if you simply change them for another animal simply because you think it covers a false "aesthetic" better and it's just the same story but made up by changing its nature.

It also bothers me because people just don't understand that they are different but related animals.

[eriexplosion]

Here's How Shrimp Trooper Theory Can Still Win

This is as fringe as it gets folks.

I've done my very serious Tech lives essay now it's time for my actual wild theory. Plus @katara-stan-club wanted the shrimp trooper essay and I will take any opportunity to yammer. Please don't take this extremely seriously as it is just something that I'm spinning up for entertainment and is almost certainly not true. (Unless!)

So the opening to Confined is... Odd to me. I've mentioned this in a post before but just to recap, it is definitely the odd man out of the three season starters.

Season one of course we intro with Caleb, who then leads us directly to meet the batch and get our first character appearances, along with convenient introductions. A fun, action packed little scene before things immediately go to hell.

Season two we intro with the batch in the middle of a job, which gives us another fun action scene that shows us how much Omega has grown, as well as the current status of the batch itself.

Season three though? Season three starts us off with a ship going down in a lightning storm and all the stormtroopers inside assumed to be eaten by the giant monsters that lurk in Tantiss' jungles. (Going by Omega's tally marks later in the episode, we're about 20 days post plan 99.) Nothing to do with the batch at all, though we do get a glance at what's in the jungle, and a tiny bit more of Hemlock being a bastard of course.

Now, seemingly, this scene is the set up for episode three, when they make their escape and head for the downed ship.

Except it's completely unnecessary. When they get to the ship, it turns on but it's incapable of flight and the comms are still down and non functioning. The ship they end up taking and using to escape is the ship that came in pursuit of them. The plot would have gone down exactly the same if they had just picked a direction and fled without the downed ship. It's a complete red herring for how they ultimately end up escaping.

So why is it important enough to open the season on if the ship essentially functions as nothing more than a destination point?

Enter Shrimp Trooper Theory.

Going back to the stormtroopers. We have four of them inside the ship, the pilot and three others. We're going to be focusing on our boy on the far right of the second picture.

The pilot speaks before the ship goes down so we can confirm he's a rando. Our fellow in the middle speaks next, identifying himself as TK-343, another rando. The one on the far left talks about wild beasts proving himself, you guessed it, a third rando. But our boy on the far right doesn't talk at all through this whole scene, leaving his identity up in the air.

So we'll take a closer look at him and brighten the scene up a bit.

Now, seeing this guy hobble his way out of the ship, I thought that he looked somewhat familiar. Specifically.

That shitty ass posture. (Forgive the sloppiness of the edit I did this comparison once before and I am not remaking it)

We do not actually see the troopers all get eaten, we cut to the interior of Tantiss before it happens. Theoretically there is nothing stopping this shrimp shaped man from being Tech.

The timeline of shrimp trooper theory:

Tech falls from the rail car and manages to survive the landing but he's severely injured. He crawls away/gets scraped off the ground by Saw.

Roughly 3 weeks pass in which he is recovering and healing yet unable to comm out as, per episode 4 of season 3, Imperial planets monitor long range communications. But, he is able to gather information from the flights going in and out of Eriadu to determine which ones are being assigned to Hemlock's secretive lab. Once he is able to confirm this, he steals some stormtrooper armor and boards.

Ship goes down because gravity hates him in particular and he is almost eaten by a Beast.

Now stranded in the jungle on Tantiss, Tech finds his infiltration plan foiled by the fact that he is being continually hounded by even more Beasts.

Several months later, Batcher is released and for some reason goes straight for the wrecked ship. Somehow she survives out here, but we're not sure how - potentially she had help?

Tech IS the mystery clone X that we see but rather than being brainwashed he has finally managed to get inside Tantiss and yet again begins to Steal Clothing from others.

Crosshair and Omega immediately break out without him leaving him stranded in Tantiss where he presumably still is, attempting to avoid detection and continue to gather information that will aid in the eventual liberation of the other clones.

Is this unlikely? Yes! Is it overly complicated? Absolutely! Am I endlessly entertained by it anyway? You bet!

Benefits of Shrimp Trooper Theory include, but are not limited to:

A living, non brainwashed Tech! The most important feature one could have!

An extremely ridiculous Only In Star Wars series of events!

Retroactive explanation for why the ship going down was an important scene to start on.

Hemlock ruining his own life by not sending someone out to recover the team and just assuming they'd totally be taken care of by the wildlife.

More giant monsters than Wrecker could shake a stick at.

The possibility of Tech and Batcher offscreen shenanigans.

Tech thinking he's finally found Crosshair and making plans to retrieve him when, SURPRISE, OMEGA'S HERE TOO AND THEY'RE ESCAPING. RIGHT NOW.

Seriously just imagine the epic sigh Tech would let out as they flew away completely unaware of his presence. His life is a series of difficulties.

He can simply turn up with the coordinates to Tantiss because god knows how else they're going to manage to get them.

This is my conspiracy theory that I'm allowing myself to believe in as a treat. It will almost certainly not be what occurs but the thought of it makes me happy.

[manatee-rp-memes]

Muppets Treasure Island Sentence Starters

~Feel free to tweak as needed~

"There are hungers as strong as the wind and tides."

"Those buccaneers drowned their sins in rum. The devil himself would have to call them scum."

"Every man aboard would have killed his mate for a bag of guineas or a piece of eight."

"When there's money in the ground, there's murder in the air."

"There are secrets that sleep with old Davey Jones."

"When the mainsail's set and the anchor's weighed, there's no turning back from any course that's laid."

"Who has the map now, huh? Some black-hearted, squid-suckin' buccaneer?"

"If I had that treasure map, I'd be trading it for a decent meal."

"Oh, you're drunk again, are ya?"

"I should just run off to sea like my father did."

"I feel like the world is passing me by."

"If it's weird and wild, let's go find it. The crazier, the better is what I say!"

"I got the horrors! Give me rum! Rum 'til I float!"

"Ah, I'd know that scurvy mug of yours anywhere."

"You thought you could get away with it, didn't you? Just take it all for yourself... and leave your shipmates with nothing."

"I don't understand. What is the Black Spot?"

"It's my sea chest them lubbers want."

"It's mine! I'm going for that treasure myself!"

"Me own shipmates, they'll gully me for sure! And anybody else to get their mitts on that map!"

"Now we know that is definitely too much gunpowder."

"We need a ship for an ocean voyage."

"The ship is provisioned, the crew is in place, and the captain should be on board within the hour."

"I'm afraid we shish-kebab and barbeque stowaways on this ship."

"Oh, you needn't be callin' a lowly ship's cook 'sir'"

“A friend you can trust is worth his weight in gold."

"Move aside! Make way! Make ready for the captain! Lollygaggers will suffer his wrath!"

"Well, the wind seems to be freshening. The tide is with us."

"Let's not get sloppy just because we're singing."

"Every storm we ride is its own reward."

"Who hired this crew? This is undoubtedly the seediest bunch of cutthroats, villains, and scoundrels I have ever seen!"

"'Tis a tradition for the officers to toast to the success of a voyage."

"You could sail to heaven and back with these men."

"Moonlight swim?"

"Tell us where the map is or we'll tear you limb from limb!"

"Cabin fever has ravaged all aboard."

"By rights, I should be locked up too for lettin' thieves like them aboard this ship."

"I'm not really sure I should be talking about this with you or with anyone."

"The caulking appears tight. No dampness under the gunwale. This one seems seaworthy."

"And so, my friends, the sea has claimed another loyal officer and friend."

"It makes me sick at heart to sail with the likes of you."

"Bring her up hard of starboard, helmsman. Prepare to lower the longboats."

"I want you to take the crew ashore at once. We need water and provisions. Take as long as you want."

"There's room in the boat for one more. Come along for an adventure."

"It's how you look at buccaneers that makes them bad or good, and I see us as members of a noble brotherhood.”

"You mewling little lily-livered, toffee-hearted, little wuss of a crustacean!"

"You tore a page from the Holy Scriptures... to make a pirate's death sentence?"

"Of all the backwater, no-class piles of sand in the ocean, you had to wash up on mine."

"Well, he was a pirate, I was a lady. You know the story."

"You know, I'm beginning to see a pattern in the men I date."

"No one maroons me and gets away with it!"

"I could never harm you. You're honest, brave, and true."

"Now take your oars and row away. I never want to see you again, ever."

"Your father would be proud."

[meluiloth]

O-O I just watched the hobbit

do u perchance have any fic recommendations??

I'm so glad you're getting into the world of Middle-Earth and its stories!! It's always so wonderful to see a new fan, and I'm honored you came to me for recs!

For starters, I'd absolutely recommend that you read the original novel by J. R. R. Tolkien - it's an amazing story, and not overly long either, though you'll find it's quite different from the movies in some ways (and in my opinion, much better!)

As for fanfictions, here are a few that I really love!

Heart of a Dragon by Night Kite on Quotev. It's so incredibly well-written, follows the movies (mostly) and includes a lot of lore from the Tolkien canon, but in a way that's really understandable! All the characters are written accurately, and the protagonist is phenomenal. It's a completed fic! If you like it, the author has written a few oneshots about the main character, The Short Tales of Elerìna Angolwen. Here's the summary:

Elerìna Angolwen never wanted to join the Company of Thorin Taken Oakenshield. Unfortunately for her and them, she has a talent that no one else in Middle-Earth has the curse of possessing - but it comes at a dire price. Amongst the rabble of Dwarves, an unusual Hobbit and an extremely meddling Grey Wizard, the Captain of the Dúnedain Rangers is the only person standing between peace and the destruction of the world by the deadliest foe of all - a dragon.

Solitude of a Wanderer, also by Night Kite on Quotev (they're a wonderful author, I cannot recommend them enough). This story features an extremely interesting and layered main character, and there's also a completed sequel set in The Lord of the Rings, which actually brought me to tears. Both are completed.

Vanimóre has been wandering the wilds of Middle Earth for her whole life, patiently gathering knowledge and experience along the way. But as she befriends Elves, Men, and Wizards, she can no longer hide her dangerous secret, a secret that could change the rhythm of the world forever.

Spirits of Fire by Darth Fëanor on Quotev is another really good fic - it's incomplete as of now, but it's so worth reading! Another amazing author with a gift for writing - they have other fics that are completed, set in the story of The Lord of the Rings!

She has the spirit of a wildfire, the appearance of a Ranger, and the bearing of a queen. A young (well, by Dúnedain standards) with the dangerous gift of fire is unwillingly roped into Thorin Oakenshield's company by none other than Gandalf, the roper-of-the-unwilling. None of the Dwarves really trust her at first, which cannot be avoided as she tells nothing of herself, not even her real name. Can she gain their trust, even when forced to reveal who she truly is?

Unnecessary Guardian by @sotwk on tumblr! This is a one-shot, and a story involving the Elves of Mirkwood, but it's a delight to read and provides a realistic picture of what life in Mirkwood might look like!

I don't have a whole lot of fics to recommend (I don't read a whole lot to be honest, my focus is mainly in The Lord of the Rings), but I hope you like these! And, once again, do read Tolkien's works if you have the chance!

[jadeazora]

The Road to Unova event has been announced, running between Feb24 at 10am and Mar1 at 10am, local time.

All players will automatically receive a Tour Pass at no cost on Feb24 at 10am, local. You can collect Tour Points and rank up for additional rewards thru the end of the Unova GO Tour on Mar2 at 6pm, local time.

A paid version of the Tour Pass, called Tour Pass Deluxe, will be available for Trainers looking for upgraded rewards and faster progression. Those who upgrade to Tour Pass Deluxe will receive an automatic encounter with the Mythical Pokémon Victini, even if they’ve caught it before! Players with the Deluxe Pass will also have the chance to rank up to the highest tier where they'll receive a new item, the Lucky Trinket!

Two Paid Timed Research Tickets, Raids and Hatch, both costing $5.00 and lasting from Feb24 at 10am until Mar2 at 6pm, local time:

The Raids Ticket rewards: 5 Cobalion, Terrakion, Virizion, Tornadus, Thundurus, and Landorus Candies XL, 10 Reshiram and Zekrom Candies, 25 Genesect Candy XL and the Black and White Joggers avatar item. There are also some additional bonuses such as: an additional 5,000 XP from completed raids, 1 additional Candy awarded for catching Pokémon in 5⭐ raids, 1 additional Candy XL awarded for catching Pokémon in 5⭐ raids (for Trainers Lv31+), 2× Stardust from Raid Battles, and an additional Raid Pass from spinning Photo Discs at Gyms each day.

The Hatch ticket rewards encounters with Maractus, Sigilyph, and Bouffalant, a Black and White Hoodie, and has these additional bonuses: 2× Hatch XP, Hatch Candy, and Hatch Stardust. (Feels rather shafted compared to the Raids paragraph, don'cha think? Both are the same price too.)

Wild encounters are: Snivy, Tepig, and Oshawott, with Servine, Pignite, and Dewott being rare spawns.

Raids are: 1⭐ the Unova starters, 3⭐ is Druddigon, and the 5⭐ will be also featured in a 6-7pm raid hour on the following days: all formes of Genesect (Feb24), the Musketeer trio (Feb25), the Therian Forces of Nature (Feb26), Reshiram (Feb27), and Zekrom (Feb28)

Players who participate in 5⭐ raids during the Road to Unova event will have a chance of receiving new Special Backgrounds after making a successful catch. Cobalion, Terrakion, Virizion, Therian Forme Landorus, and Genesect can have either background, but Therian Forme Tornadus and Reshiram will inspired by Pokémon Black, while Therian Forme Thundurus and Zekrom will have a background inspired by Pokémon White.

Roggenrola, Timburr, Karrablast, Shelmet, and Larvesta hatch from 2km Eggs.

Event bonuses include: 1/2 Egg Hatch Distance when Eggs are placed in an Incubator during the event period, the Remote Raid Pass limit will be increased to 20 from Feb24 to Feb28, and there'll be no limit on Remote Raids from Mar1 till Mar2.

Timed Research rewarding, in the following order: Terrakion, Cobalion, Virizion, Therian Forme Tornadus, Therian Forme Thundurus, Therian Forme Landorus, Genesect, Genesect (Burn Drive), Genesect (Douse Drive), Genesect (Shock Drive) and Genesect (Chill Drive)

Research tasks reward encounters with: the Unova starters, Roggenrola, Timburr, Karrablast, and Shelmet.

New avatar items: the Black Kyurem Wings and White Kyurem Backpack. A free T-shirt will also be available in the shop for the Unova GO Tour.

New stickers from the shop and from Pokestops for the event period too.

A visual update to the Pokédex aimed at helping Trainers more easily identify which Pokémon they already possess and which Pokémon they’ve yet to collect.

Update to Pokémon Encounters, and with this update, Pokémon will appear in even more places than before. In densely populated, rural, suburban, or rapidly expanding areas, this may increase the number of both Pokémon encounters and areas where Pokémon appear overall! (Cool!)

Arceus, that was long... But here's the article link.

[cinnamonest]

Do you ever plan on writing for kazuha and his snake girl cuz that pair literally stole my heart😞

YES omg I love her, our danger noodle, our nope rope, scaled and slithery babygirl

EDIT: forgot to include the link! This is a follow-up to Kazuha's entry in [this post]

-------

You don't run away.

Eventually, Kazuha felt guilty enough to finally summon the strength to do what he viewed as the right thing — let you out of the cage he had you in, give you the opportunity to walk away and go back into the wilderness. It'll hurt his heart, but he knows you'll most likely run, it's just your nature...

But you don't. You scurry out of the cage, sure, but you don't go running off. You instead shuffle over to him, wrapping your arms around him for comfort... and even after some more time passes, you still stay. And when he starts to walk, you follow. Your face seems nervous and uneasy, but you have no intentions of leaving his side.

It feels good, of course, it's a huge relief and it warms him heart... at the same time, though, he's basically made a wild creature dependent on him, and isn't that usually considered... bad? After all, if someone took an actual, normal wild animal out of nature to be a pet, people would find it distasteful, inhumane, cruel even. They'd say something about how such a creature should be home in the wild where it belongs, how it wasn't made to be kept like this.

And technically, a lot of nations have legislation against taking hybrids out of the wild if they're certain species... so he's probably violating ethics and the law. That's... well, any negative feelings he has on the matter are overridden when you bump your head against him affectionately.

No, those thoughts he was having before are wrong. You want to be with him. He saved you. You're happy. So why should he feel bad? He's doing a good thing.

From that point forward, at least he can rid himself of the guilt of feeling like he was forcing you to be with him, so, nothing left to do at that point but continue on his journey as usual, now with you in tow. He can't cover as much ground as he used to per day, as you walk a bit slower and get tired rather quickly, but... well, that's okay. You're worth it.

There's a few glaring issues with bringing you into any public space, though. For starters, inability to speak, and lack of understanding of certain conventions of normalcy that might cause you to draw attention to yourself. Moreover, now that he's thought over the legal complications, as there's hefty penalties for taking certain creatures out of the wild, he realizes he can't just go get those venom glands removed, he'd be reported, and worst of all, you'd be taken away. He'll have to just take you around where he goes and hope for the best.

But even if he can keep you under control, and make it appear that you're just quiet and shy, there's one other issue that's not dangerous or drastic, very simple and harmless in fact, but a dead giveaway nonetheless: several times per minute, your long, thin, forked tongue flickers out of your mouth. You do it in your sleep even, he would know, he's been woken up by it hitting his face before. It's only for a split second, and if it were only once, it might go unnoticed, but you do it frequently enough that someone would surely notice it very quickly. Also, there's the possibility of you yawning or otherwise opening your mouth wide while surrounded by people, and those fangs would absolutely draw immediate attention.

While he managed to get you to wear a simple cloak, getting your mouth covered is much more of a struggle. He tried a few different means of covering your mouth, letting you wear his scarf and wrapping it over the lower part of your face to see if you'd let it stay... but sure enough, after a moment, you stretched your neck and shook your head a bit to make the fabric fall down onto your collarbones, and immediately proceeded to flick your tongue out into the air. He tried buying one of those masks that covers the lower face and has straps behind each ear, but it seemed to put you in panic as you whimpered and tugged at it, and he couldn't bring himself to put you through any distress.

There was already even one time you two encountered travelers on the road, and it actually seemed to be going very well — he explained your silence with a she's not used to strangers, sorry — right up until you took a few steps towards the other human and, without hesitation, flicked your flat, forked tongue out onto their skin, to better identify the strange creature.

Ah, um, sorry, that's — it's a cultural thing, and, and ah, a-anyway, sorry, we'll be going now—

For whatever reason, your human seemed to be in a hurry to leave that interaction, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you away.

So, he's at an impasse when it comes to how to take care of his traveling needs -- he usually goes into towns every few days or so to get necessities to last until he reaches the next town. He can't just tell you to be quiet and not do anything; you may understand some basic words now, but not nearly enough to communicate complex commands.

In the end, he has to just find a secluded spot, break out and construct the collapsible cage, and leave you in it for a short time. It's very risky, and he knows that, so he's always rushing to get only the absolute bare necessities before hurrying back. He doesn't want to leave you just tied to a post or something again, that could leave you in danger if a predator found you, whereas at least a cage provides a barrier.

The first few times, you flailed and whined. He feels awful, really. I know, I know... I'm really sorry... I'll be back soon, I promise... it's okay... he buys bigger quantities so he won't need to go into town as often, tries to hunt more food, but still, he can't just live off the wilderness indefinitely.

After a while, you start to get nervous every time you come near a human town, you whimper and cling to him as if begging not to be put in the cage... it hurts his heart, too much to bear. So he has no choice — he drags you through the town, keeping you very very close with a very tight grip. You look nervous, but wildly curious, turning your head all different directions. But thankfully, the anxiety you appear to have does mean you don't leave his side. You do still curiously lean over and taste — or, wait, isn't it technically smell...? Taste and smell? Is it both at the same time? — various humans and objects with your tongue. Thankfully it doesn't get too noticed, and he just talks his way out of it — from a shelter, yes, she can't talk... what breed? Ah, well that's... the pet kind...?

Needless to say, he tries to get in and out very fast, and preferably have to speak to as few people as possible. So far there have been no major incidents, save for that one time he let go of your wrist just for a split second to grab something, turned around and panicked when you were gone, only to find you a few yards away at a produce market, looming with wide eyes over a pen full of bird eggs... thankfully he was there in an instant to grab you, lest the otherwise inevitable have happened.

On your travels, though, you actually adjust alright. At first, you were so sniffly and scared when he took you away, but it's soon overridden by awe and wonder and curiosity of the world around you, and adjusting to the places you go. Which he does have to be careful about -- obviously, northern regions are no longer an option for travel without some sort of precaution, you'd freeze fast.

Before, you were in your ideal climate and habitat, but he quickly learns through your travels that you're incredibly sensitive to changes in temperature and humidity. When you're in hot environments, though, you like to lay out in the sun.

One time when you were traversing some desert, he woke up one day to immediate panic at your absence, and ran out of the cave you'd been in, only to find you right outside the entrance, sprawled out on a rock with a content smile, basking in the sun, occasionally turning yourself over like a rotisserie to get sunlight on all your scale patches. Limbs sprawled out, presumably not instinctively knowing what else to do with them, given being half-brained of a creature with no appendages to speak of. You open your eyes and turning your head when he calls out that one word you've gotten used to.

Yes, you do, as of now, respond to that one word he says whenever addressing you, after some conditioning. It just came to him one day, very simple and short, as well as generic and common, and admittedly uncreative. He decided a one-syllable name would be easiest for you to recognize. It's more of a "cute pet name" that you would give an animal but not an actual human, but it's not like you understand what it means. Regardless, if he says it, you perk up and come over to him, so you seem to understand the word's intention and purpose.

But back to regarding the climate, he has to watch out for you at night, and be mindful of the temperature changes that occur in some regions. You're visibly miserable in the cold, start shivering and whimpering even in merely cool temperatures, and gradually become lethargic and unmoving.

The bigger problem is that warm blankets and clothes don't help. As a cold-blooded animal, your body doesn't exude heat, whereas for a human, blankets and clothes trap in the heat that the body creates. For you, clothes and blankets can serve as a barrier from cold winds, but not much else. This does not combine well with the fact that you'll freeze much faster than a person would.

Instead, you require an external heat source, namely fires and his own body that, unlike yours, radiates heat. You do cling to him at night, curling up to his body's warmth... and he doesn't mind that at all. You're not so timid of the fire anymore either. He's even gotten you used to cooked people food, and not... you know, having to watch you butcher poor mice and rabbits and swallow them whole in a rather horrifying dislocation of your jawbone. He tries to block that imagery out of his memory.

...About that, though.

Perhaps in part wanting to get a better grasp on exactly what your venom does, as well as a general curiosity to learn more about you, Kazuha finds himself seeking additional information on your kind.

He manages to scrape enough money together to visit a large bookstore in the continental mainland, scouring around and narrowing down sections to find what he's looking for (all while keeping an eye on you, of course, who is bumbling around the bookshelves with a blank stare)... nonfiction... encyclopedias... science... zoology... there. Index of Teyvat Reptiles. Should be worth the payment, hopefully.

Later that day, once you're back outside, he spends an entire evening sorting through the pages. Table of Contents... Snakes... Land Snakes... by region...

It's split into a page-by-page section where each entry makes note of the species itself as well as characteristics of hybrids for that species.

With each page, he takes a over to you — sitting beside him, staring at the book with eyes wide with curiosity yet blank with complete lack of understanding — and compares it to the illustration for that species.

No, the color of those faint patches of scales on your neck and shoulders doesn't match... no, that one has yellow eyes with pupils, not solid eyes like yours... no, that one is a constrictor...

And then there's one entry towards the very back. The scale color matches your scales and hair. The eyes are like yours. The habitat range shown on the map is very small, but it's the exact place where he found you. It's a short entry without much detail, and it's listed as endangered. There's a brief description and a bullet-point "fun facts" section under the name.

It's actually very endearing, at first. It describes your behavior very accurately, the illustration aligns with what he can tell about you. It's nice to know exactly what you are.

On your end, you're not sure what about this rectangle is so fascinating to the human, but he's been staring at it and moving the little flap pieces for some time now. There's pretty pictures, so it does pique your interest, although you're quickly getting very tired as the sun sets further.

There's a lot of little markings on the paper, which humans use for information, you know that, seeing as your human has on multiple occasions stopped to look at those wooden signs at forks in the road that have similar markings. He seems focused on it, whatever it may be...

For whatever reason, though, he suddenly seems to get a bit stiff, his shoulders tense up. You turn your gaze over to his face, still with that soft smile he always has, but it starts to twitch as his eyes get wider. And wider. And he tenses more. And more. With each movement of his eyes. Must be interesting.

...

Currently holds the title of deadliest reptile known to science. If spotted in residential areas, report to law enforcement or animal control immediately and vacate surrounding premises within one mile; non-professionals should not attempt to approach, kill, or capture. Venom injection to death time for an average adult male is around 10 to 12 seconds.

Fun fact! While these snakes usually hunt small prey, one bite is capable of killing a Sumpter beast.

As soon as his eyes finish reading the last sentence, he turns his head as he feels you shift — your mouth slowly opens into a wide, prolonged yawn, the muscular flex of the action pulling back your upper lip and exposing your long, curved fangs. You make a soft, tired sound when your mouth closes, shuffling closer to him and resting your chin on his shoulder, closing your eyes and letting yourself drift into a half-sleep state, mouth slack-jawed as you breathe onto his neck.

...But your human is twitching. He's tense, stiff. You can feel it, it's only slight, but noticeable nonetheless. This strikes you as odd — usually you're the one that shakes and shivers and trembles whenever the temperature drops to anything below warm, and you don't feel cold at all right now, given you're in a region that's warm even at night. Still, you feel an urge to help fix whatever is wrong.

He flinches a bit when you move. You lift your head up, looking into his eyes and make a soft, concerned sound. But then, you stand and take a few paces over to where all his things are set down, leaning down to rummage for a moment. Before he can follow you or call out to you, you turn back around, blanket in hand, and hurriedly make your way back over. You pull the corners of the blanket open wide and lower yourself back down, lifting and moving one foot so that you stand with one foot on each side of where he sits, and come to rest on his lap, straddling his waist, and pull the blanket back together behind him.

It takes a moment to register, but it clicks. You're doing the same thing he does for you when you're cold. Getting the blanket and holding you close to him. You even outstretch your arms and wrap them around his shoulders, rest your head on his shoulder again.

After a few moments, you pull back, looking at him and making a soft inquisitive sound, as if to check to confirm your efforts of comfort have succeeded.

And he smiles — a twitching smile, but nonetheless assuring. He raises a hand — a shaky, quivering hand — and pats the top of your head.

You soon fall asleep as usual, although he seems to stay awake for some time, more tense than usual. The tension lasts a few days — he tenses up more, flinches at touches, stiffens and swallows heavily and shudders at your touch sometimes, especially when you nuzzle your face against his neck. His hands always curl up into fists so tight they tremble.

But he never pushes you away. Never rejects how you lay your head on his lap, or on his shoulder. Sometimes his breathing gets very heavy when you move in certain ways, but he never rejects your presence. He doesn't quietly leave and run far away while you sleep, like you've sometimes feared. He stays right by your side. Day in, day out.

It's because of that, that he's right there by your side at a critical moment.

He's been mugged before, admittedly. A lot of bandits stake out rural roads, waiting for travelers to pass by that they can rob. In the past, though, he's been alone, and was easily able to blow them away and escape.

But as you pass through the desert, he can tell something is wrong. There's that sense of unease, like being watched. Could be a bandit, but also could be an animal or something... He's very on-guard, looking around, hand gripping his sword handle so it can be unsheathed within a second if needed.

There's a sound — but when he turns his head, it's just some of those desert foxes rummaging through a bush. He sighs, momentary spike in heart rate going down.

And then, you cry out, a sound of panic and distress.

And when he turns his head back, there's a man that has you in a hold from behind, arm around your chest, knife hovering above your neck. Your hands pull at his to no avail, your eyes are wide and quickly watering. You make high-pitched squealing sounds.

Give me everything you got on you. Don't try anything.

A-ah, yes, hang on. I'll get it, just... just don't...

His hands tremble, but he fetches the mora he has on him within an instant... and you, you don't grasp the nonverbal message to stay still the way a human would, you're thrashing and your feet are kicking and the man says in a gruff voice to hold still, you dumb bi—

But his words cut off.

Kazuha only hears it, as his eyes are focused on his hands pulling the coin pouch out of his pockets, but when it falls to silence, he freezes, slowly turning his head upward.

There's a moment of silence in which all present parties are frozen stiff, expressions ranging from the man's bewildered expression and your human's in wide-eyed shock — but you can't see either, both from how you've turned your head to the side, as well as how your own eyes are squeezed shut from the force of your jaw chomping down on the man's jugular.

A few more seconds pass. There's a dull thud when the knife hits the sand, and, after a moment, your own startled cry as you go down, the man's weight collapsing on top of you, sending you falling forward face-down onto the sand.

The bandit's body is heavy on top of yours, your body flat on your stomach. You wriggle and writhe, digging your elbows and clawing your fingers into the sand in an effort to crawl out from underneath it, but the composition of the sand means both actions merely cause your arms to sink into and flail in the sand that gives way to any pressure.

You turn your head up, sniffling with tears running down your face as you whimper pitifully.

Ka...Ka-thu-haa....

Your human is standing there, frozen and wide-eyed, but hearing your voice seems to make him snap out of the momentary stunned stupor.

He doesn't hesitate to hurry over to you. Drops down to his knees, pulls you out from underneath the body... gives said body a firm nudge with his foot that sends it tumbling down an incline of sand, obscuring it from immediate view from the road. You sniffle and wrap your arms and legs around him.

He's tense again. He's stiff, there's a slight tremble in his hands... but still, he doesn't move away. He keeps stroking your back up and down in a soothing motion, saying soft-spoken words you don't understand but can tell are meant to comfort you. He holds you there until you can walk again, and spends the whole night fretting over you, seemingly upset when you have a bruise from the incident.

From then on, you're very afraid of any human other than your own. They're scary creatures.

When you run into any on the road, you immediately cower behind him, grab onto him and squeeze your eyes shut, making soft distress noises. And when he drags you into towns — which you now protest, often whimpering all the while — you cling to him. He realizes you're looking to him to protect you, as if he's the deadlier force between you two, which you, for some reason, seem to believe to be the case.

As for you, in your mind, he is all that stands between you and certain death from a predatory human that would otherwise certainly get you and eat you if not for him. You've only killed rabbits and other rodents before, you don't think you could kill a human by yourself. You presume your human played a role in taking care of the bad human, probably stabbed him with the sword when you had your eyes shut. And he saved you from being crushed by the body, too. You would surely perish without his protection.

This is especially true as, you are now beginning to realize, humans are incredibly violent and powerful entities. You never noticed it before, but now you realize almost all the humans carry weapons on them. They are predatory creatures with innate natures so violent, that they attack so viciously and randomly as you have witnessed firsthand. Being a human living among other humans must be constantly frightening, they could attack at any second and you'd be done for. You've seen lots of predators, but they have to chase and repeatedly claw at prey, they don't have the same ability to stab and slash and kill so quickly, like humans with their tools.

But thankfully, you have a good one, and you trust your human will keep you safe. He's smart and strong and can talk to the other humans.

They're very scary. Unpredictable creatures that can choose to kill at a moment's notice, in an instant. It's a good thing there are no other such creatures capable of that, at least none that you can think of.

[pokemon-studies09]

Typhlosion Breeds

Wild: Wild Typhlosion are often darker in color compared to domestic Typhlosion and tend to be stockier and scruffier in appearance. They usually have additional markings, unlike battle-bred Typhlosion that tend to be more plain. Wild Typhlosion are aggressive, territorial, and temperamental. It is not recommended that Trainers catch a fully evolved Typhlosion from the wild. Those who have tried often don’t leave without a few cuts, bruises, and burns.

Battle-bred: When most people think of Typhlosion they most likely think of this breed. Battle-bred Typhlosion (or starter Typhlosion) are often handed out to new Trainers starting out on their journeys. They descended from wild Typhlosion and were selectively bred to be easier to handle. While they can have a temper, they have been bred to have an overall solid and reliable temperament.

Show line: This breed has a more distinct appearance compared to the other two varieties. They were created by selectively breeding battle-bred Typhlosion for traits that would make them better in the show ring. Because of the fact that this breed was bred solely for conformation rather than combat, their ears and fur are longer than the battle standard, with feathering on their forearms. They tend to be more laid back and calm than their battle-bred counterparts, though a temper is still apart of the standard (note that the handler should still have full control of their Pokémon. Outright aggression is a disqualification). Unlike the other two variations, show lines have a larger variety of colors and markings other than the typical bluish-black color seen in wild and battle Typhlosion. Early on in this breed’s history, breeders started crossbreeding for certain colors and markings so their Pokémon would stand out at contests and have a better appeal.