#it is the most physically painful thing I have any memory of experiencing

[pomeraniandancer]

I bought BG3 three weeks ago, and I adore Karlach as much as the next person, but speaking as someone who has had an external fixator (and still has some internal fixation), MY GOD do those rivets look painful.

I'm obviously still pretty early in the game, but thus far it seems Larian missed an opportunity to include a chronic pain aspect to her infernal engine storyline.

[earthstellar]

One thing that I really liked in IDW 2 was the concept of Going Immersant.

Given the immensely long average lifespan of Cybertronians, it makes sense:

If nothing kills you, and you live long enough to have experienced all of what you feel you reasonably can in this lifetime, and you feel content with the life that you have had, and it seems time to retire--

--Why not return your knowledge and the entity of your self to the core of your planet, where your energy and your components can be reused and your memories and knowledge can be subsumed into the greater whole?

Plug in with the stray cables that stick out of the cavernous expanses deep beneath the surface of Cybertron, let yourself get situated, and allow yourself to daydream as the crystals grow around you and gradually consume you. It is not painful. It is a process of sharing.

Each daydream then enters the great memory bank of Primus, at the heart of the world, the core of life itself for your species. Your experiences become part of the eternal record of experienced Cybertronian life. You join your God himself, frame and processor, as you combine with him within the physical form of your planet.

Primus created you, and as you are subsumed into the crystalline forms that surround you, you will go on to sustain Primus in some way. An unending cycle.

Perhaps you feel something, leeching up from deep within the crystal mass, some unique energy meeting you halfway, the cables that snake their way into your ports like vines carrying some ancient data, older than yourself, older than the Rust Sea, older than the Hydrax Plateau, older than the Titans.

Maybe you cannot decipher it, yet. But it comforts you. It reminds you that you are not alone, after your visitors have gone. Where there is digital noise, there is something to produce it. You will meet it soon--

--After countless years of a peaceful rest, knowing that at the end of your endlessly long existence, your life will go on to benefit others.

And for as long as you are able, you still remain present, as well. Just not above, on the surface. For some time, others can still come and visit, speak with you, consult with you-- Although as your memory banks purge into the greater whole, you begin to falter in this waking realm.

And that is OK; To rejoin with Primus and re-enter the Well of All Sparks as an ancient elder, a repository of experience and wisdom, is to become a teacher to all. Even in peaceful, gradual death-- And even then, your energy and materials and thoughts remain somewhere, deep within the planet.

Returned. Recycled.

Eternal, in some shape or form.

It's just a really beautiful concept.

Without any natural death, Cybertronians have the option to simply return to Primus, return to the core of the planet, in a half-waking state.

At peace, gracefully and with intent.

All of what they have experienced and all that they are, all of their memories and feelings, all of the metals and compounds that make up their frame and armour and protoform, all of it can be taken in and absorbed.

The option is there, to emerge once more.

But for most, this is the final calling.

To go immersant is to enter peace, to become a living state of meditation until the very end for you as an individual. To have full agency over how you pass on, to make the decision and consciously know. To be happy with that. To relax into your fate, as you see fit.

To make the decision to be recycled, to contribute all that you are, to return your energy to the crystalline matter that fuels your world and your people and your God, who in turn fuelled you and will thus go on to fuel all those subsequently churned out by the Well.

To merge with your living planet on an atomic level, on an esoteric level.

I wonder if the fully immersant aren't dead in the traditional sense. Perhaps they are offline, to those in this world. Perhaps their frame is vacated as their data is absorbed. But that data is not lost, necessarily.

It's just a very beautiful end of life option for Cybertronians, and I do hope the concept is revisited in some form in the future.

[imnotasuperhero]

Shelter my soul with your love.

Wanda Maximoff x Reader.

Summary: The absence of the love of your life had you holding onto her sweater for dear life. And as the weeks passed by and her scent started to fade away, you started to feel the dread of losing her at the time that same sweater became your life support.

A/N: DAY 20 OF PROMPTOBER IT'S HERE! This is a continuation of Couldn't stop this if we wanted to, like I promised. Could've posted this on Saturday, but an impromptu chapter of Sweet Blessing took my inspiration away. Lol. Hope you enjoy this thing and your tears are plenty.

-

As your fingers played with the hem of the cozy sweater, you couldn't hold back your mind from going to the past, where better times we lived. A time when you were allowed to see her, where you could hold her and tell her all the things you felt inside.

A better time when you felt complete because you had her.

Now, all you had was this sweater that held the last remains of her. All you had now were the memories and the tears that you were left with.

Nowadays, you were just a shell of what you used to be, and the only comfort you could feel was when holding onto every single trace Wanda has left behind for you to remember her.

Funny how life can take things from you out of the blue. No matter how happy they make you or how invested you are, apparently, when a door closes, it can be right in your nose.

Looking through the floor-to-ceiling window, you made yourself smaller on the couch, allowing Wanda’s almost-faded scent that impregnated the fluffy sweater you religiously wore to engulf you, taking your soul to a sunny day in the park with your beloved’s company.

If only you could revive those impromptu dates.

Your apartment had been abandoned long ago, having settled camp at the massive compound in hopes of easing your pain. But even though most days you made it through the day in a relatively acceptable mood, some days were like a plumb blanket had been placed over you, making it impossible for you to get out of bed, turning the way to your job into utter torture.

Brushing away the never-ending tears, you decided to have some mercy on your rumbling stomach and quickly fixed yourself a simple sandwich since it was a Friday. The week had been full of work, leaving you drained physically and mentally.

“Miss Stark, your vitals are getting agitated. May I check them quickly?” The AI broke the silence, making you work on your breathing.

The lump in your throat had messed with the small bite you just swallowed, making it hard to pass the food.

“‘S okay,” you answered as you chugged a glass of water, fist gripping tightly at the corners of the sink.

You hated eating when you’ve been crying, and you should’ve known better.

The tears falling down your eyes for another different reason than before had you working on your breathing, matching every exhalation with a failed attempt to swallow the bolus trapped in your throat. 

Once you finally achieved your task, you filled the glass with water, almost throwing the discarded sandwich on the fridge, before you made your way to Wanda’s bed. The need to just sleep your life away was stronger than any TV show or movie on your current list.

You didn’t like this new empty person you had become. But the sorrow and longing and… torture you experienced had you with nothing but just the needed strength to breathe. So working on your inner growth and that bullshit was not possible at this time. And frankly, you weren’t desperate to get any better, for her absence had ripped your will of living away.

If only you had a grave to cry her on.

Wanda’s ghost following you everywhere was the only thing that had you moving. But as time passed and her body wasn’t around, her smell kept fading away, making it harder and harder to breathe. It was as if your own life had started to leave your body painfully slowly.

So in an attempt to keep her looming presence, you didn’t take off her sweater. Instead, you just laid down on her pillow before covering yourself tightly with the covers, breathing in as much of her aroma to keep you warm as you silently prayed for this agony to end. Once and for all.

“Detka,” her voice, as clear as day, sent shivers down your spine.

“Wands? Wands, where are you?” You cried, the sorrow engulfing you like a cocoon. “Please, I need you.”  

Standing there in the middle of nowhere, with the big tall trees surrounding you, the anxiety started to eat you from the inside out.

“Detka,” Wanda’s voice called again and you couldn’t help the choking, feeling your knees collide against the dirty grass at the confusion.

Her voice was way too clear for it to be a result of your imagination.

“Detka,” you felt her hand cup your left cheek and you couldn’t help breaking down completely at the way-too-real feeling. “Baby, I’m here.”

“Wanda,” you cried louder, leaning your head on her hand, “I can’t see you. Please, take me with you,” you begged as your hand placed over your left cheek, choking on the brutal sob that escaped you when you didn’t find her hand there. “I don’t wanna live without you,” you begged, feeling your insides tear apart at the phantom of her.

“Y/N, I am here, my love.” despite the security in her voice, the fact that her touch was only vivid in your imagination had your lungs fighting for a single bit of oxygen.

“Wanda, I’m begging you. I don’t wanna be without you anymore,” your labored breaths sent a painful throb to your head.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” You felt Wanda’s lips against your lips for a few seconds too long before she connected your foreheads.

Jolting awake, your eyes blinked rapidly trying to adjust to the dim lights, making sense of the body against you.

“Detka,”

Looking up, a heart-wrenching cry ricocheted through the room as you launched yourself into those pair of arms you’ve dreamed of for the last 2 months.

Feeling her warmth engulf you, Wanda kissed the top of your head. “I am here, my love.” She only tightened her grip around you, providing you the comfort and the time to calm yourself as she cooed against your hair, rocking you both. “I am here,”

Once your breath returned to normal, you broke the hug to look at her face, choking on a new wave of tears as you cupped her cheeks, looking into those forest green eyes you had missed oh, so much.

“You’re alive,” you cried.

“I am alive, Y/N,” she smiled tearfully, allowing your eyes to scan her face.

Choking on a sob, you launched at her once again, placing your weight on hers as you peppered her face with sloppy kisses as if trying to show her the unconditional love you held for her.

Pausing for a moment, your eyes locked with hers and you felt your heart squeeze in pain at seeing the tears running down her face.

But instead of speaking the words on the tip of your tongue, you joined your lips together, pouring in the kiss every single ounce of devotion you held for her, sighing deeply as your lips danced to a well-known melody at the time your soul eased the suffering away.

“I don’t wanna live without you,” you spoke against her lips, nuzzling your nose against hers.

“I’ll never leave you again,” Wanda’s voice was so intimate you felt a chill run down your spine.

“I love you,” you vowed, sighing in the kiss Wanda just started.

“I love you too, Detka,” the brunette kissed your nose before carefully pushing away. But before you could protest, your eyes scrutinized her movements as she started to undress until she was only in her underwear to do the same with you after, crawling under the covers as she opened her arms in a silent invitation.

Smiling, you cuddled against her front, basking in her half-naked body against yours. 

As her scent filled your nostrils, you thanked the fluffy sweater discarded on the floor for keeping you company all this time, making a mental note to have Wanda wear it every day for when she had to go away in her missions. And for your dad to design a device to give you constant information on her vitals.

“You’re thinking too loud,” Wanda spoke against your head.

“I’m not sorry,” you placed a tender kiss on her chest, right where the origami raven was resting, before you looked up, smiling sheepishly.

“I’m in love with you,” she smiled before she kissed you, squishing your body once in the hug before her hand started to run up and down your spine in lazy caresses. “I’ll always be with you, like I know you’ll always be with me. Whereve I go.”

“Marry me,” you pouted, fighting the smile at Wanda’s soft giggles.

“Make it right.” She clicked her tongue.

“Game on, Witchy,” you pecked her lips before you cuddled impossibly closer against her soft skin.

Giving up to the mental exhaustion you’ve been under, you allowed Wanda’s presence to lull you to sleep, knowing she was alive, by your side.

The strong, calm thudding of her heart provided you the comfort you needed, like a silky veil against your scarred soul.

With the last ounce of consciousness you had, you thanked whoever was out there for returning her to you, making a silent promise never to lose faith again.

Taglist: @wandabear @red1culous @xxxtwilightaxelxxx (if you wanna be tagged in my fics, let me know)

[sinvilles]

do u have any ideas on why clay didnt discipline orel like arthur disciplined clay ? eg. slapping pushing etc. clay only (presumably except in a couple episodes) spanked orel throughout the entire series and never once hit orel on the cheek

The thing with Clay is that 90% of the fandom misinterprets his parenting style. And I'm saying this as a person who experienced a parenting style that was arguably worse than his, sans the drinking (lots of religious parents don't need to drink to be unhinged).

What we saw Arthur do to Clay:

Verbally guilt him and remind him of how little he means to him

Strike him across the face without warning (extremely bad for a child's self esteem)

The face really is the worst place anyone can hit a kid, especially when it leaves a mark. There's psychological consequences to it- as a result Clay came out of his childhood with this inherent sense of worthlessness mixed in with the idea that he was deserving of misery.

Clay on the other hand is very specific and methodical about administering a punishment when he thinks it's necessary. In order:

He very mechanically spanks his kid with his belt. And I remember it kind of surprising me that Clay wasn't even yelling at him while he did it in Grounded (repeat combination verbal abuse and physical pain is a real breeding grounds for generalized anxiety). This is not to say spanking on its own doesn't cause it's own psychological clusterfuck, but he did the version of it that managed to not leave as much emotional damage.

And- this is the kicker- he talks to him right after. He makes this conscious effort to connect with him and understand why Orel does what he does (because his reasons have got to be interesting) and then tries to reason with him about why it's wrong (even if his own logic is clownishly flawed). Sometimes he admits he's wrong, earlier on specifically before his drinking got to where it was. Orel is even disappointed the one time his dad DOESNT want to lecture him after a spanking.

And the pants thing. I think he does it on purpose because it always prompts a laugh out of his kid, so he doesn't leave on a sour note.

This is kind of not bad at all for a guy who had no positive form of fatherhood modeled to him in his most formative years.

So what does this do for Orel? We see this well-adjusted, articulate, confident child who isn't afraid to go out and make mistakes because he's secure in the fact that he'll come back to someone willing to reason with him and talk to him like a person.

Orel was raised with an inherent sense of self worth, which is the thing Clay has been lacking his entire life. And this was pretty consistent up until Nature, when Clay's substance abuse crossed a threshold that plunged them both into a nightmare- to Orel, the illusion of his father's confidence and security is shattered. Clay, who had no memory of the events that transpired, gradually comes to realize what happened after several months and suffers a psychological breakdown.

This is also why it bothers me when people treat Nature like it's the sum of both their characters when it really is just what it is: a breaking point in the lives of a father and son who were commited to fitting into an unsustainable culture of religious zeal and toxic masculinity.

[tarotwithdanise]

WHO IS SHE?

꒰⠀sections

[ 1. ] who is she?

[ 2. ] what's her divine feminine message to her?

[ 3. ] what's her traits that most people look on her up the most?

how to choose pile?

꒰⠀from left to right ; intuitively choose the pile your mind, heart and soul desire for. if you are having trouble choosing the right pile for you, here’s some tips you can do ; (1) take a deep breath (2) close your eyes (3) ask guidance from your guides (4) finally open your eyes and you can choose the right pile for you by the guidance you ask from your guides. if you are still having trouble by choosing the right pile for you let me know because i am willing to help and guide you.

PILE ONE PILE TWO PILE THREE

rules, disclaimer and notes ☆

[ 1. ] just a quick disclaimer : this reading was made for entertainment purposes only. this is obviously a general reading so takes what resonates and leave when it doesn’t, you don’t need to force your energy to read this and leave such a bad comment just to say it doesn’t resonates with you at all because the answer is very obvious! i don’t own any these pictures i collected them from pinterest so credits to the rightful owners.

[ 2. ] please ignore any grammatical errors on my reading since english is not my first language, thank you for understanding!

[ 3. ] third to the last one, if you are not an avid fan of this kind of readings and not totally 100% agree about the outcome of this pac please just ignore this post and don’t engaged anymore, this pac can contains harsh, hurtful comments about you so don't take it seriously since this is general , so kindly read at your own risk and take how it’ll resonates.

[ 4. ] lastly, be happy and enjoy reading my works — feedbacks, comments, likes, reblogs and follows are really appreciated by the reader. (that’s me, lol :3)

for tips, donation and paid readings ☆

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[ ♡ ] check out my second account @danisetarot.

SOURCE AND CREDITABLE : all of the pictures are collected and downloaded from pinterest , i don’t own any of them but credits goes to the rightful owners but edits belongs to me. i use the editor tools canva and ibispaint for the header and divider.

deck and tools used : waite-raider tarot, the light seer tarot, the divine feminine oracle, charms, intuition and alphabet and numbers 100 pcs wooden scrabble tiles + pen and paper for channelling the names and physical appearance.

PILE ONE

[ who is she? ]

temperance-the emperor-ten of sword rx-eight of wands-nine of swords.

She finally mastered the art of loving and appreciating herself more. She began to concentrate on her long-term ambition and goals. She has attracted a lot of attention, and people think she is fun to be around. Despite the fact that she is viewed as pretty and delicate by others, she also has insecurities, and for some reason, she has a tendency to believe that she will not be able to keep up with them. Before the sunset vanish, you'll occasionally catch a glimpse of her before she returns to her familiar surroundings, the moon and stars. She's very impatient, so she usually juggles many things at once and expects immediate results. She has shrunk the pain from the past and accept the truth, she experienced numerous tears and heartaches as a child and the empty existence she was led deep within her inner soul, with only few pleasant memories, that have left her exhausted throughout her childhood life; however, she now realizes that everything happened for a reason. She needed a long time to comprehend this significant substance. To emerge from the gloom, she had to go through a lot of hardships. She is now applying what she has learned from her previous difficulties and was trying her best even it's small or little progress.

She is also mature and old now. She doesn't want other people to go through what she have gone through, but she wants to use her skills and abilities to help other people like her. She is the kind of person who brings out the best in others. She will lead very different lives as an adult than she did as a child. She adheres to the rules; seems like a winter before becoming a ravishing spring, and she pursues her dreams and goals in the same way and with the same level of class and honoring her dignity. There is no need to rush anything that is taking place on her; everything is meant to happen. From her past, she has always preferred to remain out of the spotlight and kept her identity a secret, she anticipate becoming an excellent communicator when she is got older. Despite being a she, she possesses a strong masculine energy. She will be self-assured and certain of her own worth in the right time and ready to take charge of any circumstance.

[ nutshell/keywords ]

fear of showing their talent, impatient, masculine energy, moving from one place to another especially foreign countries, have a habit of walking, eating or talking fast. lesson learned, daddy issues, peace, anxiety and balance.

[ who is the divine feminine that have message for you and what are their message to you? ]

The Divine Feminine, Thecla and Mary Magdalene, have a message for you. You should know that your life is in your hands, according to your divine feminine. To do this for your own benefit, you don't need permission from anyone else. Right now, you hold the power. You are in controller of what you want for your future. Don't allow other people to rule over you. You are free to cut ties with those who are no longer serving you, if you just choose and wanted to. Your divine reminds you of your soul's mission for this lifetime and wants you to know it. They also want you to accomplish all of your goals. You can be anything you want to be. You won't have to worry because they will support you spiritually. They also want you to know that love, the love you had for yourself, is your true power. They want you to have self-confidence and stop doubting your abilities and talent. Because love is your power, it will never ends and will always reside within your heart. You are still a human being, so forgive yourself and accept who you are.

[ what traits that most people look on her up the most? ]

the lovers-ace of wands-the world-five of pentacles.

You are loving human, you like demonstrating or sharing your values to others is one of the qualities that people most admire to you. You may come across to some as someone who puts a lot of effort into their appearance. However, you are someone who listens with insight, openness, and honesty. I recently came across the phrase "on my way to my self-love," so perhaps some of you have made significant progress in your own personal development. Numerous issues that had previously held you back have been resolved. Just keep practicing self-love and acceptance. While if you have current partner right now, they look up your romantic nature. Do you really want to relocate, perhaps to another country? because there is always a sign that someone is moving here or moving to another location/place. People also do look up to you because of your abilities and upbeat demeanor, if you frequently travel to other countries you'll likely to impart your knowledge and skills. You also have a passion for learning; In fact, you need to continue learning in order to feel happy and better. Learning is an integral part of your journey and life. If you have colleagues/coworkers they look up on this trait of yours where the fact that you can be counted/lean on and can be trusted in every important matters of them to you. They also adore your success in achieving your goals, particularly your glow and self-acceptance. These people who love you the most will see how far you've come and how hard you try to keep up, but the end result is well worth it. You will ultimately be someone who rises from the bottom to the top.

significant zodiac signs : their chart have a strong gemini and sagittarius. aries, scorpio, aquarius, virgo, cancer and capricorn. (sun,moon,rising.)

initials/names : J-J-S-M-A-P-D-S-B-E-C-T-B-H-H-U-I-Z. ( pearl, sam, bea, kaori, ayemi, emily, pari, aadhira, emilliana, phoebe, sol, selene, diana, jenny, meera, thalia, ann, cordelia, joy, jade, denise and madison. ) I hope they were spelled correct, please me know if they don't.

possible physical appearance : deep dimples, brown/light shade of eyes, chubby with curves body type, long nails with nail polished, wear eye glasses/contacts, short hair to medium hair length that always tied up or only have one style, pretty hands, significant nose, reddish cheeks(maybe from make-up), moles on face, chest part and hands, might have rings(2-3), necklace with small pendant, flat/rubber shoes, likes to wear neutral color of clothes, pimples on the back, shoulders or face, nice and teeth straight, hair color is brown/black but might dyed into pink, red or purple shades.

extra messages : intimidating, cold, childish, type of person take a long of time to get the joke of someone but laughing of it like it was the best joke they ever heard in their entire life, might love cats rather than dogs, boyish, anime, quite type, kpop, taylor swift, paramore, melanie martinez, broke, might have problem on menstruation, intelligent, likes and enjoy to eating foods, abundance coming on her before this year ends.

songs that i picked for this pile :

Thank you so much for reading, let me know your thoughts, feedbacks as well tipping and reblogs is well appreciated !! ♡

࿙‌֒࿚࿙‌֒࿚࿙‌֒࿚ 𝓞 ops you already reached the end. ࿙‌֒࿚࿙‌֒࿚࿙‌֒࿚

PILE TWO

[ who is she? ]

She is unhappy in her current situation, and her lack of mental stability prevents her from pursuing pure happiness. Additionally, she lacks self-motivation, which results in missed opportunities that would otherwise satisfy her needs and desires. She feels distant and disconnected from others because she have lacks of trust. She believes that whenever she confronts them, people always speak negatively about her. People perceive her as aloof and quite but all she wanted was to defend herself from those who were attempting to harm her. She has a kind heart and is willing to lend a helping hand to anyone she thinks might benefit from it. She enjoys showing respect and class to others. She will be an effective leader and will thrive on financial security. She believes that anything is possible, no matter how difficult her life is or what she is going through at the moment, and no one can take this kind of nature away from her. She can sell sand in the desert if she wants to, and she might succeed in the business world.

She has a tendency to overthink a lot, but she has big dreams and moves well in any direction she choose. She can set trends because she appears to have magical powers and can turn anything she touches into gold. Somehow she is cruel to herself in some way and always pities and judges herself, but she was unaware that she is born as an alpha. She doesn't realize it yet but little she don't know is that she will be. She needs to believe to herself that she can do everything she wanted to be, she got a strong manifestation abilities.

[ nutshell/keywords ]

throw her in pack of wolves, she'll comes back leading it, manifestor, rought to themselves, dancer/singer, strong mindset for goals, kind, generous, can be a great business owner, missed some important things, likes to spread happiness but deep inside was hurt, ask univers to tap the bigger forces to make her desires come true and unstable.

[ who is the divine feminine that have message for you and what are their message to you? ]

The divine feminine that has a message for her are freyja and rita of cascia. You spent many days, hours and minutes of your life by choosing wisely which one is better and good for you. You know what is good for you, you understand the timing of divine and you have fully trusted it. Your divine feminine wants you to say yes only to where you think it's worth to have for and don't be afraid to say no so that you can only say yes what will nourish you. They want you to choose the life you want to have right now. They want you to know that every second you spending is very important. Be a warrior and not a worrier, always believe anything is impossible from this world and know that you are capable to do everything freely, don't lock yourself in a cell. Don't be a prisoner with a chain on their feet. Forgive yourself and others, forgiveness is about setting yourself free. Don't lose hope, keep praying and trust the divine timing.

[ what traits that most people look on her up the most? ]

queen of wands-page of wands-justice-seven of pentacles.

The fact that she puts in a lot of effort is one of her most admirable characteristics. You have a very upbeat attitude toward other people, especially with your friends. Despite having a lot of friends, you've thought that you were an introvert or a very introverted person. Despite this, people always try to figure out who you really are because they think you are mysterious. And the fact that you are always there for your friends when they need you is one of a trait that they admire in you. You may have been like a mother figure to this group of friends, which is why they see you as one of their closest and good friend. Everywhere you go, you bring harmony and equality. You wants lust for life, as I said, and she will be good at bringing everything she wants into her life. You adore the outdoors and find that a place like this brings you such inner peace and tranquility—perhaps for some of you it's your grandparents' property well maybe you visit often. People also admire you because you have a lot of patience and might want to plant seeds for a long time in the future. I'm not sure if you're the kind of person who doesn't want to be the center of attention but ends up being one. People adore the fact that you have a big heart and you don't hesitate to express how much you care about your loved ones. You are about to end a routine but are continuing to do the same thing but in new ways and strategies.

significant zodiac signs : aries-gemini-aquarius-cancer-taurus-capricorn-virgo-libra-sagittarius-scorpio. (sun,moon,rising.)

initials/names : M, V, Y, Y, S, M, T, D, H, I, A, A, A, B, P, C,R, U, U, U, Z, & K. ( ishi, victoria, may, melissa, dalia, dorothy, anna, alexa, ruby, athena, rose, chloe, leah, rhea, kyla, khyra, saira, sara(h), sandy, megan, belle, luna, lily, iris and ivanna. )

possible physical appearance : long curly/perm hair, hoodie eyes, light/dark color set of eyes, scars, tattoos, always have hair pins on their hair, lips is not too big nor too thin, smaller/average of height, hoodies, shorts, might have a stretch marks, hairy body, might have brace, have like a elephant moles, crop tops, long skirts, noticable eye bags, small bags or purse, red and black colors are significant for them.

extra messages : kind but can kill if anyone hurt their loved ones, somehow popular or well liked by others, type of someone who'll forgive but will never forget and no more second chances, end up making healthy choices when it comes to love and life, strong will for financial abundance, have many options right now, karmic relationships and lessons and missing the old happy and memorable memories.

songs that i picked up :

Thank you so much for reading, let me know your thoughts, feedbacks as well tipping and reblogs is well appreciated !! ♡

࿙‌֒࿚࿙‌֒࿚࿙‌֒࿚ 𝓞 ops you already reached the end. ࿙‌֒࿚࿙‌֒࿚࿙‌֒࿚

PILE THREE

[ who is she? ]

You can call her if you want to see someone who likes to be silly around with other people and laughs at their own mistakes. When she's around, she always makes everyone around her feel happy. She is the kind of person you can rely on when you have work to do because she is committed, dedicated, and fully focused on the task at hand. She'll be friendly and likely leave a big impression on others. She is strong, successful, and mature. She always looks for the good in every situation, and I can't blame her for being brave as a lion. She doesn't even question it when she thinks this is right. She continued to live her life, despite the times when she felt down, thanks to the strong motivation of her family and friends.

She will seize the power and opportunities. She makes every effort to improve herself and there's a high chance of her to establish an empire. She will succeed by working for herself example making her own business.

She enjoys having parties and getting to know new people. As long as they are the center of attention, she typically has a large group of friends with whom they enjoy interacting. People are most likely to fall in love with her frequently because of her style, beauty, and charisma, which will make them stand out wherever they go. She is most likely asleep when she vanishes where you can't see her everywhere and when you can't hear her loud and raucous laughter, conversation, or voice.

[ nutshell/keywords ]

a loud friend 24/7, might feel ugly and insecure with their body sometimes, positive individual, type of someone whom you can't turn down that easily, party people, well liked and loved, have a lot of secret admirers, considered themselves already successful person and dedicated with their works.

[ who is the divine feminine that have message for you and what are their message to you? ]

The divine feminine that has a message for her are kali and perpetua.

Kali and perpetua are the divine feminine beings who have a message for her. Your divine feminine urges you to remove anything that no longer serves you because doing so will be beneficial to your own well-being. They don't want you to waste any more time proving who you really are, but you're doing fine right now. You come here to show respect, love, and care to others. They want you to know that you don't have to be afraid of everything and that your purpose in life is not to please others or make them proud of you. There is wisdom and truth within you, so if you believe you are not on the right path, you can begin again. Being real and authentic is your greatest power. Writing can help you express your inner voice, whether you already have a journal or want to start one. And as you dare to live the truth, that voice transforms into your own light—a fire—that calls you and claims you.

[ what traits that most people look on her up the most? ]

the fool-six of pentacles-the heirophant-strength.

I adore how each pile allowed for its own puzzle to be solved. Okay, people look up your originality and uniqueness, and yes, I can understand when you act childish at times. You are able to see the good in everyone, and this ability of yours, you have an access to make people more likely to be taken advantage of, if you use to. You are not as concerned about the material world as the rest of society, which is frequently noticed by others. People see you as creative, and your ability to think outside the box helps you succeed. Because of your generous and caring nature, children will admire you and adore your presence. They've always wanted to be near you, even though you don't want to be with them. Some people think you're good at singing because of your beautiful voice.

People adore that you are an open-minded individual who is open to other people's ideas and beliefs. Last but not least, these people will admire your bravery—not only are you open about the beliefs of other people, but you are also not afraid to stand up for yourself when other people try to get in your way.

significant zodiac signs : leo-virgo-taurus-gemini-aquarius. (sun,moon, rising.)

initials/names : G, G, T, P, J, C, A, R, Y, U, K, L, L, V, Z, X, X ,I ,E, W, & S. ( jane, julie, patricia, ross, ysballe, ymir, zoey, catherine, shane, genevieve, geneva, lou, louse, angela, emilia, ella, eva, ena, kaye, urja, urshita. ) let me know if they were spelled right.

possible physical appearance : significant chess part, petite, long arms and fingers, tshirts, sweaters, likes to appear dark and light feminine, might have hair highlights, crooked teeth/nails, short nails but may have nail polish/colored, have a strong smell of perfume, might wear eye glasses and noticeable veins.

extra messages : funny person, likes bird, dogs, cat, have a crush start with j, m, t or p, eating chocolates, savage, light colors is their favorites, eating noodles and schedule is their wallpaper.

songs that i picked up :

Thank you so much for reading, let me know your thoughts, feedbacks as well tipping and reblogs is well appreciated !! ♡

࿙‌֒࿚࿙‌֒࿚࿙‌֒࿚ 𝓞 ops you already reached the end. ࿙‌֒࿚࿙‌֒࿚࿙‌֒࿚

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀:¨ ·.· ¨:⠀⠀

Hello, everyone! It's been a long time since i uploaded my latest pac. I hope everything that i've said make sense about you even though I know that this is a general reading. I send a message to Universe that may everyone will be blessed, stay healthy and happy everytime they come across with my account. Happy weekends, expect more pacs contents to be posted. ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ `· . ꔫ

© daninixx ── all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, alter, or repost my work.

[gojobait]

Why Obi-Wan and Anakin being a Force dyad not only makes sense but doesnt contradict canon

First of all: what exactly is a dyad?

A dyad is two physically separate individuals being the same presence in the Force. The only dyad bond that currently exists in canon is, of course, the one shared by Rey and Ben. They have an 11 year gap, meaning two people are not born a dyad, but develop a dyad bond over the course of their life (keep this in mind). They have a lot of amazing and unique abilities that nobody else has (like extremely powerful Force healing* and object transfer), but a few of their dyad feats are also found in the Obi-Wan/Anakin duo.

*Force healing isn't exclusive to the dyad btw, several Force users had this ability, including Anakin and Obi-Wan.

Here are some examples:

they can communicate telepathically from across the galaxy. Neither of them is very proficient at this as they only found out about it way too late, when they were very much enemies and Obi-Wan made himself undetectable (and from the Rako Hardeen arc we know that when he does this not even Anakin can recognize him);

they share feelings, memories and pain through the Force as if they're experiencing them together, as one, at the same time;

during their duel on Mustafar, Palpatine felt that Anakin was in danger, despite them not being nearly done fighting. This could be due to Palpatine sensing the dyad bond being severed, and any Force bond severed is dangerous as it can create a wound in the Force. Palpatine could have been worried about Anakin becoming a wound (tho i personally think that Obi-Wan is more likely to have become a wound instead);

upon realizing Rey and Ben are a dyad, Palpatine says that the dyad bond was "unseen for generations". It technically has been generations since Obi-Wan and Anakin, plus 'unseen' doesnt meant 'non-existent'. Palpatine might simply not have noticed, as "A Force dyad, binding two separate beings together, was not an easily discernible phenomenon." After all he only realizes Rey and Ben are a dyad when they fight him directly and as a team and he accidentally siphons their life force, which is a situation he has most definately never found himself in with Obi-Wan and Anakin;

remember the dyad bond being created over time? Palpatine tried (unsuccessfully) to form a dyad bond with Anakin, meaning that not only he knew about the prophecy of the dyad, but he sought to realize it in himself and, likely, getting rid of Anakin in order to avoid the prophecy of the Chosen One being realized instead. Anakin/Vader at that point had surrendered himself to Palpatine entirely, so there would be no reason for the bond not to be created. Unless, of course, Anakin already shared that connection with someone else;

them being a dyad would explain why Anakin had to die in order to bring balance to the Force, despite having already killed Palpatine: he needed to reunite with Obi-Wan so the dyad could be one again. Rey doesn't need to die because Ben transfered his life force to her. This is also why Ben doesn't appear as a Force ghost: other than lacking the training, he lives on in Rey;

on that note, Obi-Wan and Anakin being a dyad would also explain how Anakin was able to learn how to become a Force-ghost despite having no training at all (Sith cant become Force ghosts so Palpatine certainly didnt teach him). and even in legends, its Obi-Wan who reaches out to him in the space between death and beyond and teaches him the way.

An argument against the Obi-Wan/Anakin dyad is the "Rey and Ben are unique and nobody can do the things they can do" argument. Which is true, they are absolutely unique and we have never seen any character, in either legends or canon, do the things they can do, but I wouldn't consider it a strong argument. Nearly every Force bond is different and unique (some Jedi could create bonds with other Force users, some could create bonds with anyone, some could create bonds with animals, others could only create bonds with their master/apprentice) and the strength of those bonds varies depending on the people who share them.

We only have a single example of what a dyad looks like, in canon, and that is simply not enough to rule out the possibility of other characters having shared that bond, especially knowing how difficult it is to recognize!

Obi-Wan and Anakin could not transfer objects through the Force or touch each other across light-years, but I would argue they never needed to, as they were so inseparable that they were concieved as a single entity by the entire galaxy:

(Revenge of the Sith - Matthew Stover)

And to further confirm the depth of their bond, here is Yoda sensing** the effect of Obi-Wan's death on Anakin all the way to Dagobah:

(There is Another - Gary D. Schmidt, from From A Certain Point of View)

**He sensed Obi-Wan and Anakin clashing against each other as well, describing the fight as follows: "Then the two vibrations met, and their pulses fought across the back of the Force."

Making Obi-Wan and Anakin a dyad would also make the Rey and Ben dyad make more sense: Anakin was created by the Force itself to be the Chosen One as a response to Plagueis trying to create the perfect dark side user and Sith warrior -> Anakin then forming a dyad bond with Obi-Wan, a steadfast light side user through and through -> that bond being severed causing the dark side to take over the light -> Anakin's twin children being equally capable of redeeming him (perhaps another dyad, or something akin to it since they could also do some of the things obikin/reylo can do) -> the dyad being reunited with Anakin's death -> Palpatine is actually not dead so balance needs to be brought back yet again -> Anakin's grandson forms a dyad bond with Palpantine's granddaughter (finalizing what Palpatine had failed to do with Anakin) -> the dyad is fully realized when Ben dies to bring Rey back to life.

This would make Anakin retain the most important role in the story as the Chosen One and the 'patriarch' (word used loosely) of the dyad lineage.

And last, but most certainly not least, Obi-Wan and Anakin lead the Open Circle Fleet during the Clone Wars. The Open Circle emblem, specifically, represented the two of them and the power of their bond: "The heraldic emblem consisted of a yellow circle that was formed by two separate semi-circle arcs. One arc represented Kenobi, the other, Skywalker. The image signified that while they were both two independent halves, together they formed a single entity."

(Revenge of The Sith - Matthew Stover)

[hrefna-the-raven]

Hot as Hades

Misc. masterlist - masterlist

Chapters 1 - 2 - 3

Warnings: none

Words: 1620

Summary: getting ready for the next date (this chapter will be a bit boring, sorry in advance)

Chapter 4 - Invitation

"Whaaaaaaat-is-it-now?!", he bellowed, causing them to immediately fall into silence.

Pain and Panic exchanged glances, uttering unintelligible words to each other before one of them eventually took a step forward.

"Your most lugubriousness, we're sorry to disturb you but uhm you have a visitor."

"Guys this is the Underworld", Hades scoffed while conjuring himself a drink, "we constantly have visitors down here, like", his hand waved towards the never-ending stream of souls spiraling downwards past the window, "permanent visitors."

He sipped on his drink as he sunk back on his throne, already dismissing his minions' announcement under unimportant when suddenly the heavy stone doors of the throne room swung open, crashing into the walls on both sides.

"Brother", Zeus swaggered into the room as if he owned it, grabbing Hades by the shoulder and pulling him into a tight hug.

The Lord of the Dead growled, squirming to free himself but failing.

"What brings you to my room of doom, Zeusy?", Hades grumbled, finally able to free himself out of Zeus' iron grip.

"Aw Hades, can't I just check on my favourite gloom from the tomb brother?"

"You rarely, no wait, in fact, never do so. And forgive me if this sounds a bit impolite, but I'm highly suspicious. Sooooo what in the undead are you doing down here?!"

Hades' voice cracked, his attempt to conceal his anger failing, his venom slowly seeping through his words. The night he spent with you was absolutely enchanting, from the delightful conversations to the shared laughter at each other's jokes. He could feel the intense desire you had for him, and he wouldn't forgive himself if he allowed anyone, especially his meddling brother Bolt Boy over there, to ruin it now. His gaze shifted towards his brother, who suddenly appeared overly interested in the table that still stood in the room, a physical reminder of the sweet memories he had created together with you merely hours ago. As if on cue, Zeus turned around, revealing a delicate sapphire belt held triumphantly in his hand. A self-satisfied grin spread across his face, growing more pronounced with each passing moment.

"Did you have a visitor?", Zeus asked, wiggling his eyebrows in a mischievous manner.

Hades' eyes widened in shock as he saw your belt dangling from Zeus' hand. He jumped up and snatched it away.

"None of your business", Hades snarled.

The last thing he needed was Mister High and Mighty snooping around his affairs. He knew Zeus too well, having experienced his meddling firsthand. The first time, it resulted in the rather involuntary responsibility of overseeing the underworld forever, the last time, it ended his relationship and, because it wasn't bad enough,Hades had to make constant, very conscious effort to forget all the instances where he got the blame for his brothers fuck ups. Therefore, he had no intention of divulging any information about you. At least in his scheming mind, he deemed you his which granted you the status of underworld business, and so solely his, business.

"Anyway, tomorrow, Olympus. Make sure to come, brother. It will be a grant gathering of everyone, oh and I've heard intriguing things about the lady you're with, I'm curious."

"Oh why don't you ask Aphrodite? I'm sure if things are being heard, she might want to add some details", Hades muttered.

"I don't know what you're talking about. It's all Greek to me", Zeus winked and vanished, leaving a frustrated Hades behind.

Wasn't it already enough that his brother had imprisoned him in the thankless task of ruling the underworld for eternity? Why did he have to endure Zeus invading the very space of his confinement as well? And for what? To invite him to...something, probably a party. And you were supposed to accompany him, an unspoken invitation, and by extension meet the other gods. Hades closed his eyes, his fingertips pressed into his temples, slowly massaging the growing headache away. He called out for his minions, his muscles tensing at the irritating shuffles of their small footsteps on the stone floor as they approached, giving him a nervous salute. With a snip of his fingers, dark smoke materialised into a wrapped package he had gotten earlier from the Fates, hovering in front of Pain.

"Bring this to her, tell her I'll pick her up at sunset and nothing more! Capiche?"

"Yes boss!", Panic replied a little too eagerly, snatched the package, and scurried away with Pain.

As soon as you stepped into your house the following day after a tiring day at work, you sensed that something was amiss. It felt like the atmosphere had shifted, and there was an unfamiliar disturbance lingering in the air. As you passed through the kitchen, you instinctively grabbed a knife and cautiously made your way towards your bedroom. Carefully you pushed open the door, ready to defend yourself, but your steps came to an abrupt halt as you spotted two young boys energetically jumping on your bed.

"What in the-?"

"She's here, she's here!", both interrupted you and crawled off the bed, holding up a package.

"The boss will pick you up at sunset, wear this, nothing more!", proudly announced the boy with brown hair.

"That's not what he meant by saying that, you idiot!", the blonde one intervened, slapping the other one on the back of his head.

"Oh and how would you know what the boss meant? I was there when he gave the instructions!"

"Me too! Have you forgotten already?"

"You must be Pain and Panic", you sighed amused, giggling, finally putting the knife away and taking the package.

"At your service", both smiled, saluting you.

"So this is from Hades?", you asked, earning an eager nod from the boys.

"Please tell him we delivered and only did as asked", Pain requested, transforming back into his original form.

"We mean like really really put in a good word for us, we don't wanna be maimed", Panic added.

And with that, they both disappeared. Intrigued, you opened the parckage and ran your fingers along the smooth black material of a gown. You let out a gasp as you slipped it on, realising that not only did it reveal a generous amount of cleavage, but the fabric itself was see-through, but it also was as if magic concealed certain parts of your body, so never too much was revealed. As you gazed at your own reflection in the mirror, a delightful warmth began to spread between your thighs. Your mind danced with thoughts of the upcoming evening and Hades' intentions, especially considering the revealing and seductive nature of your robe. You weren't left with much time to wonder when you felt the air shift and the Lord of the Underworld emerged from a cloud of dark smoke beside you.

"Hi babe, I'm a bit early so I figured I'd pick you up here since we've gotten to know each other a bit better yesterday, you know it's more personal and all", Hades strolled around you, his eyes scanning the room, "I must say I dig your style, simple and yet those small skulls and bones give this place a personal touch, thumbs up-", his gaze finally landed on you, "wow wow wow, babe, I uhm, it suddenly got super hot in here and it's definitely not me for once!"

You chuckled at the god standing in front of you, his eyes roaming over your form, dilated pupils and open mouth, unable to hide his burning desire and you could have sworn that his flames burned even hotter than usual.

"You sent the robe."

Your voice broke Hades out of his train of thoughts and brought him back into the present moment with you.

"The Fates picked it", he casually remarked, attempting to regain his usual cool demeanour, "and they weren't wrong when they promised me I wouldn't regret it. But something's missing, hm hm hm", Hades pondered, tapping his finger against his lips, his brows furrowing, "ah yes I know! Let me help with the final touch."

Your hair started moving on its own, swirling and twisting until it formed a chignon at the back of your head adorned with a small bird skull. The tips of the few long strains hanging down on the side of your face were tinted in an almost glowing shade of the same blue as Hades' flames. A silent wow left your lips as you caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. The combination of the elegant hairstyle and the flowing robe draped around you gave you a shimmer of divinity and a smile danced across your lips as you turned around hugging Hades.

"It looks perfect, thank you", you whispered, your words barely audible as they sank into the soft fabric of his toga.

"So well, are you ready to start the night?", he asked anxiously, his hand nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

You nodded, though a hint of suspicion flickered in your gaze as you observed him.

"Then get ready to meet the family!", he spoke quickly, his arm encircling you tightly as he pulled you closer.

"Wait what?! Does that mean we're going to O-", you cut yourself off with a scream as your surroundings seemed to dissolve.

You closed your eyes, nausea pooling in your stomach while every muscles in your body tensed at the feeling of weighing tons and being weightless at the same time. Just as suddenly as it began, it abruptly ended again and when your feet felt steady ground underneath, you cautiously opened your eyes and gasped in surprise.

"Olympus", you murmured, blinking several times, half-expecting to find yourself back in your own home, awakening from a dream.

Chapter 5

[failed-inspection]

Dead On Arrival: a Rain World AU

hii hii! I had this AU concept bouncing around in my head for ages, the basic summary can best be described as "What if Spearmaster was friends with Artificer before the events of Arti's campaign?"

Time has passed since The Incident, and Spearmaster Cannot help but blame themself, those angry words of their recipient still haunt their mind, knowing that the message they delivered had caused the death of someone, brougt a slow and painful demise to another, and had burned the bridges between their creator and the one closest to them... They had so much people relying on them, and they failed, they sometimes still visit the surrounding facility areas, maybe as some sort of self inflicted punishment, reopening the wounds of memories, maybe as a bittersweet reminder of what could have been, regardless, during one of these travels, they come across a family of three, a maroon Slugcat and their two pups, at this moment in time, Spear is aware that they're considered an anomaly amongst slug kind (maybe they went to OE at one point as they were traveling), and expected some sort of negative reaction, instead, the other slugcats just seem... curious, not afraid, not disgusted, curious, this in one way or another, this leads to the slugcats interacting, which leads to them hanging out more and more, at one point, becoming relatively close, Arti's pups enjoy playing with Spearmaster despite how unusual they are, and Arti is happy to have a supply on spears whenever it was time to hunt, of course, spear would always return back to Suns, but whenever they visited the facilities, the family would always be happy to see them again.

Eventually, Spearmaster felt comfortable enough with Arti to open up about The Incident, about how they were tasked to deliver a pearl to help their creator's friend, only for things to take a turn for the worst, they ruined their creator's life, their friend lost everything, and they failed to save the one person who needed it most, leading to her death.

Arti doesn't quite understand the loss spearmaster has experienced, since they admit they hasn't faced such a loss like this, but they try to reassure them that things will be fine, they'll be here for them, despite everything, they don't have to grieve alone, one day they talk once again, before Spear goes back to Suns' can, and Arti and their pups go along their very way.

Remember how I mentioned Arti didn't understand the loss? That's because they didn't lose their pups yet.

This is the last time Spearmaster ever sees Arti's pups again, their lives had been later taken in freak incident, when one of them got a little too curious about a golden pearl within the scavenger tolls...

Eventually, time passes, and Spear and Arti see each other again, this isn't a warm, welcoming reunion by any means, as Spear found out about their current murder spree, to add salt to the wound, they also learned about how Pebbles, (who in their eyes, is the very one that lead to the death of Moon and stuff like that, how they feel about pebbles is very complicated and might need it's open in depth look but regardless considering their previous experiences with Pebbles his actions here REALLY don't sit well with them) tasked them with exterminating the scav population in his city, Spear is... rightfully horrifed! This wasn't the slugcat they once knew, the one they considered a friend, they honestly felt pretty betrayed in a sense... maybe Artificer is in the middle of a killing spree as Spearmaster runs into them, maybe they're too blinded by grief so that their attempts to get them to stop, that they don't have to do this... This only makes them see more red, maybe they end up fighting physically, maybe one of them ends up fleeing, whether it be in anger or horror.

Either way, Just like the bonds of the two iterators Spearmaster was made to help in the first place, history repeats itself, and the bridges have burned once again.

because I'm evil, the pearl the pup tried to take is the same pearl that held the instructions for removing the self destruction taboo in this AU <3

[thetalltaleteller]

I thought I’d put together a somewhat coherent list of my headcanons for Lies of P as well as few others I’ve seen that go in line with what I’ve been thinking.

When P becomes human

His body doesn’t exactly change to one of flesh and blood. He still has a puppet body, for the most part. But that doesn’t make him any less human.

There are some physical changes, however, like how his hair changes and his shoulders get broader. I’d imagine he’d also develop some other changes internally that would enable him to do things he couldn’t do before. But again, still kinda more on the mechanical side than fleshy.

He would also feel things like pain and even hunger to an extent because of some of these changes. He’d also feel fatigue.

He’d feel pain because his ergo would like remember how certain things are supposed to hurt. Like getting smacked by a shovel would not be pleasant. And the hunger part is because he’s not entirely powered by ergo anymore and so he’ll eat to regain some energy. (Don’t ask me how, I haven’t figured that out yet. Just made sense at the time I thought of it)

Him breathing still isn’t a necessity, but it’s more like a “muscle memory”. Similarly to how his ergo can remember pain, it remembers other subtle things about being human. Things that one wouldn’t actively think about when doing, like breathing and even blinking.

How P feels being human/first time feelings

The first time he feels pain, he’d be shocked at first. He’d just think “What was that?? I did not like that.” And then he’d come to understand it pretty quickly and whenever he gets really hurt or something, he’d almost wish he still couldn’t feel pain. But that’s more of just him being a little dramatic lol

When he feels hunger for the first time, he’s completely unaware of what this feeling in his stomach is and it sort of has him a bit scared. That is, until he tells someone about it and they kinda laugh a little and explain it to him while giving him something to eat.

The first time eating something is so weird to him. Like he kinda has the muscle memory of it so it’s not like he’s being taught how to eat, but that doesn’t mean the overall sensation isn't weird and maybe a bit overwhelming at first. He gets used to it eventually and comes to enjoy trying new foods when he has the chance.

The first time he feels genuinely tired, he’s not too sure what’s happening. He’s felt sort of drained before, but this is a new level. Eventually he just passes out from exhaustion and he’s just on the floor until someone finds him. After that he’s more aware of what it is and is more careful about not passing out on the floor again. But he’ll still fall asleep in various places like in chairs or at a desk/table

Not to mention dreams. P would be confused as fuck about dreams. But he wouldn’t think much of them afterward. However, his first nightmare? Poor guy would be fucking shook.

(This one for the thirsty people including myself lmao) With P experiencing more human emotions, it would make sense he’d feel a romantic attraction to someone at some point. But I’d imagine he’d also experience sexual attraction. However, still having the body of a puppet, he’s missing a certain part to his anatomy to make some of these dirty desires possible. Unless he convinces someone to help him change that.

Note: I left things a little vague about who he talks to about these things, purely for your shipping convenience 💖

[cognacandlilac]

To the Depths - Part Six - NSFW

(Pirate!Silco x F!Reader) Promises and Pomegranates

AO3 - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3.1 - Part 3.2 - Part 4 - Part 5

Rating: Explicit/MDNI Chapter Summary: You come face to face against an impossible creature and it royally screws with your understanding of reality. Will Silco help you? Chapter Warnings/Tags: this chapter is SFW. Don't you worry, more smut is coming <3 A/N: Not beta'd because I'm trying to feed my momentum monster. She's starving and she's mean.

You stand in place, still staring up at the towering monster of living water. A part of your mind understands that it is about to snap at the ship like a wild animal but the thought is simply too impossible to comprehend. 

“Torches!” Sevika shouts sharply enough to drag your attention back to the deck and crew. You are not the only one frozen with fear and disbelief. Most of the crew cannot seem to believe their eyes either. 

“Torches!” Sevika snarls and shoves the nearest crewmember. This sends them scurrying off to illuminate the ship as much as possible. Your gaze drags back up the column of water to the beastly head and glowing eyes. Its neck reminds you somewhat of a snake, coiled to strike. 

When its head darts forward toward the deck, you at least have the good sense to brace yourself. The beast thuds against the ship as though it is made of pure, solid matter. You are knocked clean off your feet, unable to stop yourself from colliding with the railing. Breath leaves your lungs in a sharp gust just in time for a rush of water to slam against your body. 

Gasping, sputtering, and dazed, the only thing you can think to do is look for Silco but you don’t see him. An unexpected stab of pain blooms in your chest that has nothing to do with the physical blows your body just experienced. 

He left you to fend for yourself. 

You should not be surprised. Why would you expect anything different? So what if he danced with you and briefly participated in a conversation that didn’t consist of throwing insults at each other? That does not change the fact that you are a prisoner. Less than that, even. You’re a stolen commodity. 

A lump rises in your throat and you tell yourself it’s because the pain in your right side is growing more intense by the moment. No other reason. 

You know why you are here. You know where you stand. 

The water creature lets out another shrill roar as its glowing eyes scan the deck. Your eyes follow the serpentine curve of its neck to where its body meets the deck and continues, rising over the railing, not unlike the way a snake’s body slides over a branch. Yet, as water pours off of its form, it never changes size. 

It strikes again, aiming at Locke who manages to dive out of the way. Like before, the brace of its impact rocks the ship. This time, you are able to see the way water bursts from its body and rolls across the deck the way a rogue wave would roll across a calm sea. 

What in the hell is it? 

“Princess, you either need to get moving or get fighting. I don’t care which one you do. Just don’t get in the way.” Sevika brushes by you with a vicious look in her eyes as she attaches what looks to be some kind of miniature harpoon to the end of her mechanical arm. 

You nod, though Sevika has already moved her attention back to the water creature. 

“Bring its head down!” She barks at whoever is within earshot. 

You try to make yourself move in any direction for any purpose but you simply can’t. Your mind is racing and grappling with the reality in front of you, leaving your body stuck in a state of awe and terror. It is only when a crewmate, the same one who nearly came to blows with Locke, crashes against the deck in front of you. 

“Fuckin’ waterwyrms,” he grumbles as he scrambles to his feet just in time to avoid another wave rolling off the body of the beast.

A waterwyrm. An apt name that scratches along the outer edge of your frazzled memory. You cannot chase after it just now. 

The clatter of metal pulls your attention and you realize a thick dagger has fallen from the belt of the swearing crewmate. You call out for him, realizing too late that you never learned his name. Not that it matters. You can’t see him anymore. 

You reach for the dagger, figuring it’s better to arm yourself in one way or another while you decide what you’re going to do. 

The storm the other day was frightening but familiar. You’d sailed through storms before. You knew what to do, to an extent and if you didn’t, the crew was there to set you right. But that isn’t the case now. 

Only a handful of the crewmates crisscrossing the deck seem to know what they’re dealing with. The rest wear expressions you imagine are similar to the one on your face right now. You are not the only one out of your depth with this. 

The dagger is heavier than you expected and, truth be told, you do not know how to wield it. The closest thing you’ve held to this is an engraved letter opener that you keep on your bedside table at home, just in case. 

You struggle to decide whether or not to keep the dagger or discard it but you cannot remain rooted in place like this. You are completely unprotected. Once you find a bit of shelter, you can organize your thoughts, and pull yourself together. 

A flickering instinct tugs at your mind. It whispers to you, urging you to find Captain Silco. He’s supposed to keep you from harm until you are returned safely to your father and fiance. That was the agreement. 

A cruel stab of logic reminds you that not even Silco could offer absolute protection against a creature of myth and magic, especially not one that is determined to flood the ship with its watery form. Besides, Silco did not hesitate to abandon you once the waterwyrm rose from the black sea. 

Another flash of hurt sears into your chest and you quickly replace the hurt with anger, unwilling to allow your ego to be bruised by that man more than it already has. Enough is enough. The familiar clarity of anger awakens the part of your mind that had gone hazy with shock at the sight of the waterwyrm. 

You need to get to a safe place. Quickly. You flee, heading toward the stern, nearly tripping with every step as you do so. As much as you do not want to look at it, you keep your eyes fixed on the waterwyrm. Perhaps, if you were seeing it in a painting or sketch, you would find it beautiful but not here. Not when it’s real and dangerous and hell-bent on fracturing your reality. Things like this only exist in stories. 

Then again, you thought Silco only existed in stories, and look how that has panned out for you. 

With a soft groan, you keep moving forward. Even in the most dire of situations, the Captain still manages to snake his way to the forefront of your mind. The thought stokes your anger and you cling to it as you navigate around the scrambling crewmates and thrashing waterwyrm. It has slithered around to the port side of the ship, an equal distance from the bow and stern. This would be a good thing if you didn’t feel a spray of water coming from behind you. You look over your shoulder to see its watery, snake-like tail rising on the opposite side of the ship. 

You’ve seen plenty of sketches of mythical krakens wrapping their tentacles around ships to squeeze them into splitters. Could a waterwyrm do such a thing? 

The tail swings like a whip, heading right toward you. You dive forward, evading the tail but you’ve realized you’re now scrambling to find your footing right beside the great neck of the beast. You gaze up, tipping your face all the way back to look at its head. Its attention is drawn elsewhere, for the moment. Instead of moving away, you feel the weight of the dagger in your hand. 

You look at the rippling, translucent body of the waterwyrm. Surely, if it is solid enough to perch on the deck as it wreaks havoc, it is solid enough to feel the pierce of a blade. Without thinking twice, you lift the dagger and stab it into the side of the waterwyrm. The dagger pieces its watery hide like a hot knife through butter.

It does…nothing. 

No, that isn’t true. It’s done something. It’s gotten the beast's attention. The waterwyrm’s serpentine neck swivels and bends, bringing its head down until it is looking you right in the eye. Those blue orbs glow and shine like fire. It has no pupils but you know it’s looking right at you, into you. 

With a low, gurgling hiss, it opens its mouth. 

The anger that propelled you forward evaporates, leaving you with nothing but a cold, hollow sense of fear. You cannot move. You are vaguely aware that the dagger has slipped from your hand and has clattered onto the deck. 

Every inch of your skin, every drop of blood, every bone screams at you to run but you can’t. You can’t look away from the waterwyrm’s eyes. Now you see the beauty of such a creature, though the notion is far from soothing. 

You will be swallowed up by its hungry maw. 

You wonder if it will kill you by drowning or if its teeth are more solid than they appear. You wonder which you’d prefer. Probably the latter. You’ve never seen someone drown, but enough of your father’s men have had close enough brushes with such a watery death that you know it’s unpleasant.

It occurs to you that this is the first time you’ve pondered your own death. It always seemed like such a faraway thing. An inevitable thing, like a candle blowing out. You would be here and then you would be gone. You never gave much thought to what happened in between. The act of dying itself. 

A crack rings out and it doesn’t fully register with you that something has happened before the waterwyrm’s head reels back. It snarls and snaps, howling with rage. Something bright and sparkling falls in front of your face. 

“Yes!” Jinx’s delighted laugh is out of place with everything happening around you as she appears by your side. She scoops up the bright, shining thing. With a slow blink, you realize it’s one of the waterwyrm’s eyes. She slips it into her pocket. Its glow is so intense it shines through the fabric of her pants. 

“You should probably move,” Jinx says, putting a hand on your shoulder and tugging you back toward the weather deck. “I just made that thing really angry and I still need the other eye.”

She turns you a little and gives you a small shove in the direction of the weather deck. There, at the top of the steps, you see Silco with a rifle in hand. As always, he looks eerily still amongst the chaos. His ocean eye is bright and focused as he watches the waterwyrm.

You dart forward and start to climb the stairs, but your legs have gone wobbly. You stumble near the top, reaching out and catching yourself on his leg to keep yourself from sliding down the steep steps. 

“You’re alright, treasure.” You feel a large, gentle hand on the back of your head. “Stay right there. This will be over and done with soon.”

Several words leap into your mouth but none of them make it past your tongue. You find that you can do nothing but cling to his leg and hope his words ring true. 

“Line it up for me, minnow,” Silco orders. You see a flash of blue as Jinx scrambles up the nearest mast and begins to wave and shout at the waterwyrm. The half-blind beast whips its head around, teeth bared and snarling with fury. You close your eyes, not wanting to look upon it anymore but that is worse. The moment you close your eyes, all you see is the waterwyrm bearing down on you, ready to devour you. Your eyes snap back open just as the waterwyrm strikes at Jinx. Its head moves into the perfect position for Silco to take the shot, and he does. Another crack rings out, shooting right into your bones. The second glowing eye comes loose. This time, Jinx is able to catch it before it hits the deck. 

And then, you aren’t fully sure what happens. The waterwyrm moans weakly, its head swaying as it struggles to keep itself upright. It begins to collapse, as though it’s been mortally wounded rather than blinded. You cling harder to Silco’s leg, bracing for an impact that could be severe enough to damage the ship. Just before the waterwyrm’s limp body hits the deck, it melts into water. Thick droplets of seawater smash into the surface of the deck like a vicious rain, but that’s all that happens. 

Your brow furrows with confusion before you look up at Silco. He sets the rifle aside before reaching down to help you to your feet. Around you, the crew checks for damage to the ship. Some look exhausted and annoyed. Most look as confused as you feel. Sevika looks as though she’s just eaten a whole lemon. You briefly wonder what she must have seen in her life for something like the waterwyrm to be considered little more than an inconvenience. 

“Those glowing stones gave life to the water,” Silco explains, his voice gentle and filled with patience that makes something hurt inside of your chest. “Remove the stones, remove the problem. The stones are very valuable as well, as you can probably imagine.”

You nod, though it’s a jerky, automatic response to his words. You hear them. You know what you saw. But your mind just refuses to accept that something like that can exist in your world. 

“Are you hurt?” Silco keeps speaking to you in that low, gentle voice. You hate it. You don’t want to see that softness in him. You don’t want it to steady you or soothe you. 

“I’m fine,” you manage, though you’re not certain that’s the truth. You feel like you are going to keel over at any second. 

“You’re bleeding.” Jinx glides up to your side, ever the helpful little wraith, and lightly touches your arm. Sure enough, there is a gash stretching nearly from elbow to wrist on the underside of your forearm. You can’t even feel it, though you decide that’s a good thing for now. 

“Get her down to the doctor, minnow.” Silco’s good eye fills with something you refuse to acknowledge as regret, possibly even worry, when he looks at the wound on your arm. 

“So much for not allowing damage to your cargo,” you mutter as you let Jinx lead you below deck. She takes you to the bottom level of the ship. You pass dozens of hammocks strung up and layered over each other as well as an assortment of trunks and personal belongings. 

“Do you sleep down here?” You ask her. 

“I bunk on my own,” Jinx explains, but does not offer more details.  

You pass three iron cells, each fitted with several pairs of shackles. They are all empty and, thankfully, look as though they’ve been empty for a while. You briefly wonder if you were meant to occupy one of the cells. Why did Silco insist on watching over you so closely when he could have thrown you down here and been done with it?

Just past the cells is a solid wall made from spare bits of wood. Though it looks sturdy enough, it’s quite slapdash. Gaps between planks allow you to see glimpses into the room beyond. The wood bulges and indents in strange ways. With a small start, you realize the wall is made of pieces of other ships. Perhaps, ships the Zaun’s Revenge attacked and scuttled while looking for goods.

There are two crude doors set into the makeshift wall. 

“I sleep there.” Jinx points to one of the doors. Its placement against the wall implies that it’s the smaller of the two rooms. She points to the other door. “That leads to the laboratory. It’s best if you wait for me or the Captain to bring you down here if you ever have a need to see the doctor.”

“Oh?”

“He’s nice, usually,” Jinx shrugs. “But he gets very annoyed if his work is interrupted. He’ll always help you if you need it, though.”

Jinx raps her knuckles against the door. Through the gaps in the slats, you see warm candlelight but also some kind of glowing, purplish light you cannot envision a source for. There is no answer from inside the laboratory but that doesn’t stop Jinx from pushing in. 

The room is small, though the curved hull of the ship that makes up one wall allows for a little extra space. All manner of indistinguishable items have been cleverly stored where the room comes together to form the underside of the bow.

Tucked against the curved wall is a desk cast in shadow by a tall, thin figure whose black coat seems to eat the light around him. Shelves fitted to the curve of the hull contain jar after jar of that strange purple powder. The jars glow faintly in the darkness of the room. 

The man does not look up from his desk nor does he acknowledge the presence of two new people in the cramped space. 

“This is where I work on projects.” Jinx taps a cluttered workbench stocked to the point of overflowing with metal bits and bobs, screws, nuts, bolts, and plenty more objects that you can’t identify. The walls around her workbench are covered in sketches and schematics, designs of a mechanical nature. You spot a page with the words ‘MAGNETIC CANNONBALL’ scrawled across the top in big, messy letters surrounded by complex equations you can’t ever hope to untangle. The sight makes you smile a little. 

“Mr. Doctor, we are in need of your assistance,” Jinx chirps and taps on the bony shoulder of the man. He glances back at her with a foggy look that is somehow both dazed and focused. He wears a cloth tied around the lower half of his face in some kind of makeshift mask. 

“Hm,” he grunts softly before turning around to face you fully. You bite the inside of your cheek so you do not react to the severe burns covering the previously hidden side of his face. His other eye is surrounded by scar tissue so thick he can barely open it, which doesn’t seem to matter since the eye itself is a pale, milky color. Despite that, you can still make out dark hollows under both of his eyes. 

His functional eye quickly examines your body, spotting the laceration on your arm. 

“What happened there?”

You open your mouth to explain, but you aren’t actually sure how you injured yourself. “I’m not sure. I fell a few times during the waterwyrm’s attack.”

The doctor’s nonexistent eyebrows shift upward. “Waterwyrm?” 

“Yes, one just gave us a hell of a fight.” Jinx’s eyes spark with pride. “Nothing we couldn’t handle though. It looks like everything held up in here just fine.”

She looks toward the shelves and she’s right. Despite the viciousness of the waterwyrm’s attack, not even a single pen looks as if it’s rolled out of place. 

“Good, good,” he nods, taking a step forward on spindly legs. “Come into the light, please.”

You do as you are asked, holding out your arm for him to examine. His long fingers wrap around your wrist and put the icy grip of the reaper to shame with their coldness. 

“You truly did not notice that the ship was under attack Mr…Doctor?” 

“I have learned how to maintain focus in even the most unlikely situations. Besides, the Captain and crew are more than capable of handling any dangers the sea flings at us.” He chuckles softly, the sound reminiscent of scraping bones, before speaking again. “Singed. Only the little one calls me Mr. Doctor.”

Singed. Surely, that is not his true name. You find yourself staring at the ruin of his face until you remember yourself and force your eyes down. 

“It’s quite alright,” Singed says as he moves to one of the heavily stocked shelves and retrieves squares of pristine white cloth and two glass vials each the size of your thumb. “For all of my faults, vanity was never one of them.” 

He holds up the first vial filled with clear liquid. “Clean your wound with this first and wait for the bleeding to stop.” He holds up the second vial, half filled with liquid the same vibrant purple as the powder. “This will encourage healing. I suggest you ask the Captain for assistance. It is most potent in its liquid form.”

“But what is it?” You ask softly, taking both of the vials as well as the scraps of clean cloth. 

“Have you received advanced education in biology, chemistry, anatomy, pathology, and alchemy?”

Your eyes widen. “I have not.”

“Then all you need to know is that this is something that will help you.” There is a slightly condescending tone in the doctor’s voice but you don’t have the energy to let it pinch your pride.

“We call it shimmer,” Jinx says with a helpful smile. 

“You call it shimmer,” Singed corrects, turning his attention back to his desk. “That is an inaccurate and purely cosmetic name.” 

“It’s catching on with the crew so you should get used to it,” Jinx shrugs before ushering you out of the cramped laboratory. 

“Thank you,” you call over your shoulder but Singed is already engrossed in his work once more. You follow Jinx above deck, staring at the little vial of glowing purple liquid. The crew has largely recovered from dealing with the waterwyrm. Considering the violence of the attack, it did little damage to the ship.

“Oh, rats!” Jinx groans softly, lightly placing her fingers over the glowing stones in her pocket. “I forgot to give these to Mr. Doctor.” She hurries back below deck, leaving you alone. You aren’t sure if you’re grateful for the solitude or not. 

Your mind still feels caught, stretched thin over the gap between what you thought you knew and what you now know to be true. You move toward the Captain’s cabin without thinking about it.  

There are stones that somehow bring water to life. You grew up listening to myths and legends from all corners of the world. While many were soaked in magic and impossibility, you also knew the ocean still held many secrets and mysteries. You just didn’t think the secrets would be so close to the myths. 

Desperate for something to occupy your mind, you dig through your memories for scraps of any myth containing the waterwyrm. Nothing comes to mind. Frustrated, you push into the Captain’s cabin to find it empty. Both relief and disappointment settle like stones on your chest. You toss the stone of disappointment away and will yourself to be happy for a moment to tend to your wounds alone. 

While the bed looks welcoming, you choose to perch on the desk instead. You briefly consider sitting in Silco’s chair but you can’t bring yourself to do it. 

It’s…his. Somehow, sitting in that chair feels more intimate than sharing a bed. 

You place the vials and the cloth on an empty part of the desk. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks as the image of your hands intertwined with his, bent over the desk, as he took you from behind fills your mind. Something tugs low in your belly as the need for a distraction attempts to disguise itself as desire. 

Your upper lip curls in forced disgust, but you cannot summon any anger behind the motion. You call your anger over and over, wishing to wrap yourself in it to shield yourself from the strange feelings fighting to form within you. It does not come. 

With a slow, deep breath, you turn your attention to the clean cloth squares and the first vial of clear liquid. You open it and take a sniff. It’s nothing more than a simple disinfectant if your nose is to be trusted. 

Singed instructed you to ask the Captain for help with the shimmer. Even if the idea of asking Silco for help was palatable, you aren’t sure you want to put shimmer anywhere near an open wound without a better understanding of what it is. 

You soak one of the cloths in a small amount of disinfectant and brace yourself as you press it to your wound. The stinging pain rips through you, far worse than the pain of the injury itself. 

Tears prick at the backs of your eyes and you go stone still, keeping the cloth pressed to your wound. The threat of tears has allowed a tiny spark of anger to rise. You clutch those sparks hard and throw them against the feeling your tears wish to bring forth. The sting grows until you can’t stand it anymore. 

Just as you remove the cloth from your wound with a small sound of frustration and anguish, the cabin door opens. 

“There you are.” Silco steps into the room and lets the door swing shut behind him. He locks it with mindless movements as his eye focuses on the sight of you sitting on the edge of his desk. Worry flickers behind his ocean eye. “What are you doing?”

“The kind doctor gave me something to patch myself up with.” You hold up the cloth as though it’s obvious. “The experience has been less than pleasant.”

“Have you ever had to tend to a wound like that before?” He asks, that horrible softness returning to his voice as he approaches you. 

“I think you know the answer to that.” You try to put a little bite in your voice but fail to do so. 

“Perhaps, but I’ve learned several times now that underestimating you is a foolish thing to do.” He takes the cloth from your hand without a word and frowns. “Did you dilute this at all?”

Your cheeks feel hot. “The doctor didn’t mention that I’d need to do so.”

Silco removes the seal on the water pitcher near the vanity and wets the cloth before adding a drop or two of the disinfectant. “This will get the job done and sting far, far less.”

You hold out your hand to take the cloth but he ignores it. He moves close once more and holds your injured arm in his free hand before gently cleaning the rest of the gash. The sting is still there, but its bite is far less vicious. You find that you are able to breathe with some normalcy again, though something heavy still sits on your chest. 

“Ah,” Silco murmurs as he spots the vial of shimmer. “Excellent.”

“I don’t want…whatever that is,” you say quickly. 

“It’s perfectly safe when administered correctly, I assure you.” He opens the vial and the cabin is soon filled with a sweet, medicinal scent that makes your nose tingle. “I use it every day.”

You tilt your head. “You do?”

He meets your gaze before bringing his fingertips to the scars around his ruined eye. “It is the only thing that keeps the infection from progressing. It dulls the pain as well. I wouldn’t be fit to man a rowboat let alone captain a vessel without it.”

“Oh.” Your gaze dips to the vial in his hand before falling silent. 

Silco leans forward, bending down a little so his face is level with yours. “What, no quips? Surely, you can think of some remark to make about such a substance turning me inhuman.”

You say nothing. 

“Not even a little jab at my charming personality and wonderful temperament?” There is a teasing lilt to his voice but that softness still remains. 

You shake your head. You aren’t in the mood to trade barbed remarks, not that your mind would cooperate with you if you were. 

Silco sighs softly and returns his attention to the shimmer vial. He moves away from you for a moment to fish something out of one of the desk drawers. You hear something clinking and glance over from the corner of your eye. He holds a small glass eyedropper, which he cleans thoroughly with the remaining disinfectant. 

“This will make it easier,” he explains. “You really won’t need more than a drop or two.”

“Will…?” You start to ask but you swallow your question down, hoping he’ll be gracious enough to pretend you hadn’t spoken at all. 

“Will what, treasure?” He finishes cleaning the eyedropper and dries it off before giving you an expectant look. 

“Will it hurt?” The sting of the disinfectant nearly brought you to tears. Another strike of pain would be too much for you to fight through and you were not going to cry. Certainly, not in front of Silco. 

“Yes, but it’s an unusual sort of pain,” he explains. “It’s intense, but it’s quick. A bit like someone flashing a bright light in your eyes unexpectedly. Your senses will feel scrambled but, like I said, it’s quick.”

He loads up the eyedropper with just two drops of the violent purple liquid and takes hold of your arm once more. He looks at you, waiting for permission. You nod. 

A single shining drop falls from the end of the eyedropper onto your wound. You feel a tingling sensation for a fraction of a moment before something unlike anything you’ve ever felt before wracks through your body. Too much air is crammed into your lungs yet it also feels as though the wind has been knocked from your chest. Your veins feel as though they widening and narrowing, wriggling beneath your skin. It’s unbearable. 

And then it’s gone. 

You gasp hard and brace on the desk. 

“Easy, treasure,” Silco’s voice tethers you to reality. 

Your mind scrambles to right itself. You feel exposed, vulnerable. Your anger has failed you so you fight to call forth anything else that will shield you from the terrible weight on your chest and the tightness in your throat.

His quick hands wrap your forearm in soft, clean bandages before you have a chance to see what your wound looks like now. Already, you note the absence of physical pain. 

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” His hand comes to rest in the middle of your back. You feel the warmth of his skin through the fabric of your shirt. Tears spring forth but you quickly scoot off the desk to stand in the middle of the room, out of his reach. 

“I’m rather tired.” You keep your back to him as you blink and blink and blink. 

“I imagine so.” His boots thud against the wooden floor as he moves to stand behind you but he does not try to touch you again. “You’ve had quite a fright.”

Once again, you feel a tiny spark of your anger ignite but it’s not enough to catch fire and burn away the terrible feeling that creeps in around you. You are not yet in control of your emotions enough to speak, to deny his words. 

“Most of the crew is in the same boat as you are, so to speak,” he says. “Waterwyrms are incredibly rare. I’ve only seen three, myself. Seeing something like that for the first time can be rattling.”

“I am not rattled,” you hiss. You clench your hands into fists to hide how much they shake as you move toward the bed. You sit down and fumble with the lacings of your boots until you’re able to shuck them off. “I’m tired.” 

For a moment, Silco looks as though he’s going to press the matter. A small part of you, one that you’d like to squash beneath your heel, wishes he would. 

He takes a half step back and nods. “Get some sleep, then. You’ve earned it.”

He takes a seat at his desk and goes through the motions of clipping and lighting a fresh cigar. The warm, spiced smell of it banishes the lingering scent of disinfectant and shimmer from the cabin. Something in your chest loosens, but you’re not sure if it’s a good thing. 

You slip out of your breeches and crawl under the covers, pressing yourself as close to the wall as you can with your back to Silco. The only sounds in the room are the faint scratching of his pen across parchment and his soft exhales whenever he takes a puff of his cigar. It’s not enough to hold your focus. 

Your mind begins to spin again. Your heart slams against your ribs but you tell yourself it’s nothing more than your body responding to the shimmer. 

You are not rattled. You are not frightened. You can handle this. You have handled everything life has flung cruelly into your path and you will continue to do so. You will remain in control, just as you always have. 

But you know that’s not true. The words float through your mind like a lullaby despite the threat they pose to your quickly fracturing resolve. It’s never been true. 

It becomes harder to keep your breathing slow and even. That horrible feeling continues to tighten its grip around your throat, growing stronger and stronger until you fear you won’t be able to break loose. You won’t be able to keep it at bay. You’ll have to feel it and know the truth of it. 

You are not rattled. You are not frightened. 

You’re terrified. 

And the moment you let yourself feel that terror, you’ll be lost.

Fear claws at your throat and sits on your chest, prepared to suffocate you. Already, you can feel it seeping through your skin and stealing your breath. 

Fear has come for you before, but you fought it off. It pounced on you the day your mother died but you evaded it, letting grief shield you. It tried to ambush you again the day your father abandoned you at the family estate but your anger was so great and so fierce that fear could not touch you. 

Now, your grief was a quiet, content creature resting near your heart alongside the memory of your mother. And your anger…where was it? How could it have abandoned you and left you so vulnerable?

There had to be something you could do. Fear would not reach you this time. It never had and it never will. 

Not true. Not true. Not true. The words skitter across your brain, less gentle than they were before. 

You fight the urge to scream, choosing to bite the inside of your cheek instead. It's no use. The truth has started to seep through the cracks of your mind and you have nowhere left to run. No place to hide.   

How close will you allow yourself to come to madness for the sake of clinging to such a fragile illusion? 

You only believed yourself to be capable because you had never faced a true challenge. Now that you had, now that you stared the waterwyrm in the eyes and saw death, you can no longer hide from what you are. A small, scared, stupid girl who doesn’t know a single thing about the world. 

You do not have the strength or skills to survive on your own without your father’s money and protection. If you fled your engagement, you might as well forfeit your life. If you allowed yourself to be caged within the gilded bars of marriage and societal expectations, you would never feel alive again. 

One way or another, death surrounds you. It does not matter if it’s a death of your body or a death of your spirit. Both are equally devastating in your eyes. There is no escape. 

You bite the inside of your cheek hard enough to taste blood as you keep fighting the cold sense of fear that tries to wrap you in its embrace. You can’t give in to it. You can’t allow yourself to feel it. You’d never be able to pull yourself out if you did. You don’t bother trying to call on your anger to help you keep fear at bay. You realize now that it did not abandon you. You’ve simply burned it all up. 

Only the faintest scrap of pride allows you to hold yourself together. If you are going to fall apart, it will not be on this damn ship surrounded by these damn pirates. 

You are so caught up in your own mind that you do not realize Silco has moved until you feel the bed shift beside you. You stay still, pretending to be asleep, not that it matters. Aside from your failed attempt to bring yourself some relief last night, Silco keeps his distance from you in bed. 

He shifts and rolls a bit before he seems to settle. Thinking he has fallen asleep, you allow your mind to resume its heavy task of stopping your fears from consuming you. 

A hand presses against your back. Your breath catches in your throat and it takes every bit of your frayed self-control to keep up the act of pretending to sleep. 

“Brave girl,” comes Silco’s soft whisper, so quiet you are unsure if you were meant to hear those words or not. 

Warmth spreads across your back, radiating from his palm. If you focus, you can feel the shape of every long, thin finger. It may be exhaustion, the shimmer, or the fact that you had your toe over the line of madness just a moment ago but you swear you feel him pressing against your back with every breath you take. His movements, if he’s moving at all, are slow and faint. When you feel him press, you extend your exhale. When he lightens the pressure, you inhale. Over and over until your breathing slows and your heart calms.

The urge to check if he’s awake or say his name gently pulls at you, but you let it pass. The peace of this moment is a fragile, hard-won thing that you aren’t ready to give up. Besides, if he actually is asleep and this is all in your head, you’d rather keep that to yourself. You continue to breathe slowly, focused on the way his hand feels against your back, and eventually allow sleep to take you. 

********

When you wake, you roll over to find an empty bed. You open your eyes, expecting to see Silco sitting at his desk like he usually does but he isn’t there. A small amount of relief fills you. You’re spared from confronting him after…whatever that was last night. 

Maybe you sent yourself into such a deep state of distress that you imagined it. But then that means that you imagined him for comfort, which might be worse. 

Your mind still feels clouded and sluggish as you dress and leave the cabin. Above deck, the air is still and there is not a cloud in the sky. The Zaun’s Revenge bobs gently on a calm sea. To the west, you spot a strip of land but no distinguishing landmarks that might tell you where you are. Your eyes scan the deck for Silco, but you do not see him. There does not seem to be any work to be done so you head below deck to the galley.

Arlo has already started preparing for the evening meal, causing you to realize just how late you’ve slept in. You offer to help, he accepts. Soon, you are chopping onions. Your eyes burn and your mincing skills leave much to be desired, but your mind is occupied. Plus, you are learning something new. That always makes you feel better, more in control of yourself. 

“You seem a bit out of sorts,” Arlo says. “Something on your mind?”

“That waterwyrm has rudely forced me to reexamine my understanding of the world and my place in it,” you answer. “It’s been horribly inconvenient.” “Oh, I see. That happened to me the first time I saw something like that. It wasn’t a waterwyrm, though. The carcass of an ushkya floated to the surface. I couldn’t believe my eyes.”

“A what?” You hope you won’t regret asking. 

“An ushkya. Merfolk use them similar to the way humans use horses. They’re actually quite gentle by nature. I’ve seen a few wild ones before. Their fangs make them look scarier than they are. I’d go as far as to say they’re more docile than horses.”

Your mouth drops open. You regret asking. “I am not in a position to take in that information.”

“Fair. How are you getting along with those onions?”

“Badly, I’m afraid.” You dab at your onion tears with the back of your hand. “I hope you like a bit of a rough chop.”

“It’ll do just fine. You aren’t cooking for the Council,” he chuckles and rests an affirming hand on your shoulder. “Keep at it. I have plenty of work for you when you’re done.”

Time ticks by in the kitchen as you and Arlo take turns teaching each other things. It will be a while before he can read properly, but he knows how certain words look written down, which is an excellent start. The two of you make a plan to redo all of the labels in the scullery. Having a plan like that makes you smile. It’ll keep you occupied during the days and will hopefully make your imprisonment pass quicker. 

“Ah, so is this where I can expect to find you when you vanish from the cabin?” At the sound of Silco’s voice, you are flooded with memories of his hand on your back. You can feel the pressure between your shoulders as you turn around to face him. 

“If I say yes, does that mean the longboats will be left unattended?” You fire back.   

“Glad to see the stress of last night has not dulled your wit. You’re going to need it.”

“Why?”

“We’re going ashore. I have to meet with an associate of mine and I know better than to leave you to your own devices.” A small smirk twitches in the corner of his mouth but it is not accompanied by the usual mean glint in his eye. 

“Scared I’ll ambush you with another oar attack, pirate?” You say, moving out of the kitchen with an indifferent look though you are glad to be back in the familiar territory of banter and quick remarks. 

“If I remember correctly, I was the one who snuck up on you,” he says. 

“But my first instinct was still to give you a good whack,” you point out, earning a quiet chuckle from him. 

“True.”

Silco starts to lead you out of the galley but you pause and look over your shoulder. 

“Will you get on without me, Arlo?” you ask. 

“I’ll be fine. We can start our labeling project when you return if you’re up for it.” Arlo’s gaze darts to Silco and his face pales a little bit. “With the Captain’s permission, of course.”

You turn your head and look up at Silco, arching a brow. 

“Hm,” he mutters before ushering you above deck. He lowers his head so his mouth is close to your ear. “Should I be concerned by how well you are ingratiating yourself with my crew?”

“Probably,” you shrug. “Do I need to put on that beloved harlot costume again?”

“Beloved indeed,” he chuckles lowly. “But no. Port Squawkfeather is not quite as…colorful as Port Fairna. You are perfectly fine as you are. Unless, of course, you secretly liked playing the harlot and wish to do so again.”

“Hold your breath and find out.” You smile sweetly before turning your attention to the port in question. 

“Ever the charmer.” Silco stands by your side as the Zaun’s Revenge docks and the gangplank is lowered.

Despite its unusual name, Port Squawkfeather looks orderly and clean for a pirate haven. From what you can see, there is some form of authority patrolling the docks and the shore. They bear a discreet insignia that looks strikingly similar to a waterwyrm.

The small port town is clustered on a spit of land between a narrow, pebbly beach and sandstone rock formations that vary in height. A few structures stand on plateaus scattered across the cliff faces, but most of the buildings appear to be concentrated around the mouth of the port. 

“What business do you have here?” You ask, glancing at Silco from the corner of your eye. You don’t expect an answer but you can’t help but ask. Silco is certainly making quite a few stops for someone with a valuable hostage underfoot. 

“I’m sure you recall the blue stones that served as the waterwyrm’s eyes. I plan to sell them. They are extremely valuable,” he replies. “Even more valuable than you.”

“I am worth less than a pair of glowing rocks?” You scoff. 

“These are not just rocks. The power they contain is unlike anything else in the world. Those stones contain pure arcane energy.”

“And you would sell them to the highest bidder?” You arch a brow. 

“Of course. I do not have the resources to harness their power myself so I may as well make a profit from them.”

He offers his arm, which you take, and the two of you disembark. 

“Are you going to make me sit in your lap in a dingy tavern again?” You ask. 

“No,” he replies. “You aren’t wearing a skirt. I won’t be able to have any fun.”

His words bring a hot blush to your cheeks. You fix your gaze straight ahead and hope he does not notice. Once more, you feel the ghost of his hand on your back, guiding you through your breaths. 

The entrance of the docks feeds into a well-maintained dirt road that leads right to a lively market. Instead of walking down that road, Silco cuts to the left and walks along the shore for a time.

“I hope you can handle a small climb, treasure,” he says before turning off the path onto a thin trail that snakes up the side of a sandstone formation. “I won’t carry you if you feel faint.”

“I’d rather be left in the dust than rely on you to carry me,” you reply, though a touch of worry reaches your heart. You nibbled on a few things while assisting Arlo, but you haven’t had a proper meal since last night’s dinner. 

The trail isn’t steep but it snakes back and forth along the side of the cliff, carrying you higher and higher with each twist. The trail dips into a valley dotted with scraggly bushes before traveling up the side of another sandstone formation. 

Sweat breaks out across your forehead and your throat feels scratchy and dry, but you don’t say anything. Silco doesn’t seem to be any worse for wear. It’s unlikely he has anything on his person that can relieve your discomfort so there is no point in opening yourself up to ridicule, especially after he saw you in such a vulnerable state last night. 

It is a hot day and the air is dry. Your legs ache from walking at an incline for so long. As much as you want to ask Silco for a moment to stop and catch your breath, you push onward.

Each step gives you a frail sense of reassurance. 

You aren’t weak. You aren’t helpless. You’re capable. 

Even as your lungs burn and sparks tease the corners of your vision, you take comfort in your ability to keep pushing. 

You are resilient. 

The panic brought on by the waterwyrm was a fluke. A perfectly reasonable lapse in judgment, all things considered. 

You are fine. You have always been fine. You will continue to be fine. 

Is there not something better than fine? That wicked little voice whispers to you but you shut it out. Now is not the time. You must focus all of your energy on not collapsing on this forsaken trail.

“Steady now, treasure. Our destination is atop the plateau, just there.” Silco seems a little out of breath himself when he gestures to where the path curves just up ahead. 

“I’m perfectly fine,” you reply, ignoring the slight wheeze in your voice as you speak. If Silco noticed, he has enough grace to refrain from commenting on it. 

You round the bend and the land flattens. Straight ahead, the path extends into a flat stretch that overlooks the port below and the ocean beyond. To the left, there is a small, slapdash house that looks to be made of driftwood, thatch, and other salvaged materials but that isn’t what captures your attention. The trees surrounding the home are filled with brilliant-colored parrots. Their feathers are a deep ruby shade that almost seems unnatural. They chitter and squawk as you and Silco approach. They fix you in their beady gazes but do nothing. 

Now you know how Port Squawkfeather got its name.

“Who, exactly, are we meeting?” You ask, moving a little closer to Silco. 

“An old associate of mine,” Silco says. 

Just before he knocks on the door, another parrot flutters over and perches on a specially-made stand near the door. Unlike the others, this parrot is a deep azure, blue as the sea. 

“Oooh, visitors!” It screeches as it flaps its wings. “Get your ass out here, ya drunk!”

“Good heavens,” you chuckle softly at the bird. “I wonder where he learned to say such a thing.”

“You’re about to find out, treasure.”

The door to the driftwood cabin flings open and in the doorway stands the oddest man you have ever seen. Spindly legs support a bloated belly that leads to narrow shoulders and skinny arms. He wears a shirt of bold coral splashed with an assortment of random, vibrant colors that resemble tropical blooms. A hat of woven straw sits atop his head, blocking the sun from a leathery face and brilliant blue eyes that are almost white. He also wears trousers shorn choppily to knee-length. On his feet are sandals that look to be made of the same material as his hat. 

“Captain Jimmy,” Silco says with a sense of familiarity and a warm smile. “You haven’t aged a day.”

“Damn right, I haven’t!” The man cackles. When Silco extends his hand for a shake, Captain Jimmy pulls him into a tight hug. “Glad to see you aren’t dead, my lad!” 

You bite back a laugh at the display. Silco looks like a cat that has just been doused with cold water. 

“I could say the same to you.” His discomfort is palpable and you see no reason to intervene. The azure parrot makes a squawking noise that sounds like a human chuckle. You glance at the bird with a fond smile. It gazes back at you as if it can read your thoughts. Its gaze is so intense that you find yourself looking away. 

Silco has managed to extract himself from the eccentric man’s embrace. “I’m not here on a social call, I’m afraid. I have something for you.”

“Oh?” Captain Jimmy raises a bushy grey brow before sliding his gaze over to you. “Well, she’s pretty but I don’t deal in that sort of trade. You know that.”

“Oh! No,” Silco shakes his head and stammers. “Not her. She’s a different sort of investment.”

You huff with indignation at his choice of words but say nothing. 

“I’d prefer to discuss this inside,” Silco presses. 

“Shady deal! Shady deal!” The azure parrot screeches. 

“Hush now, Barnaby!” Captain Jimmy snaps. “I know damn well Captain Silco brings me nothing but shady deals. You needn’t insult me by stating the obvious.”

The parrot looks abashed. You did not know a parrot could convey such an expression. 

“Come in,” Captain Jimmy steps to the side and ushers you and Silco into his home. 

The inside of the small home reminds you of Silco’s cabin. It is crammed to the gills with interesting baubles, trinkets, and artifacts. 

You try to hide your surprise when Captain Jimmy waits for the blue parrot, Barnaby, to fly into the sitting room. The parrot settles on a perch in the corner of the room. 

“You look thirsty, lass,” Captain Jimmy says to you. “May I offer you a refreshment?”

“That would be lovely, thank you,” you say, summoning your most charming smile. Once Captain Jimmy has moved out of sight, you turn to Silco. “You should take notes in regards to manners.”

“Oh, I think I’ve been more than generous with you, treasure,” he murmurs with a glimmer in his eye. “At least, that’s the impression I got when you screamed my name-”

“Hush!” You snap just before Captain Jimmy returns carrying two hollowed-out coconuts. 

“One for you and one for me, lass,” he grins, showing off several missing teeth. 

“You’re too kind,” you say as you take in the fruity fragrances of the drink he offered. You take a sip and can’t help but sigh at the sensation of sweet flavors exploding on your tongue. “Oh, this is lovely! What is it?”

“A carefully curated and blended assortment of fruit juices from the surrounding land. Though it looks rather barren, this place is a treasure trove of natural wonder.” “Oh, I’m sure,” you nod as you take another deep sip of the delicious juice. “I can’t imagine those parrots would stick around otherwise.” Through the window, you can see clusters of ruby-red parrots chirping at each other and fluttering their striking wings. 

“True enough!” Captain Jimmy cackles. “Shame I can’t get rid of this one.” He jerks a thumb toward Barnaby, who fluffs up his feathers as though he’s heard every word. 

“Old bastard,” Barnaby croaks. 

“Waste of poultry,” Captain Jimmy fires back. 

Before you can comment on the odd exchange, Silco speaks up. 

“As much as I’d like to chat, I am here for a reason.” He reaches into his coat pocket and produces a pouch. You recognize the faint blue glow bleeding through the fabric. “What sort of trouble have you brought me now?” Captain Jimmy grumbles as he sets down his hollow coconut. You sip at your drink while Silco spills the two glowing blue stones into his palm. 

“We ran into a waterwyrm and got these for our trouble,” he says. “Any chance you can give me gold in exchange for them?”

Captain Jimmy thinks for a moment before shaking his head. “No gold but I have a decent trade, I believe. Let me see.” He gets to his feet and walks toward an empty wall before pulling down a sheet of canvas covered in writing. There is so much information and you struggle to understand what you read. 

You see a list of creatures listed out in a neat collum, the waterwyrm among them. When it is all laid out in front of you, you understand. The night in the tavern at Port Fairna, you believed Silco and his associates to be speaking in code. Now, you realize you were mistaken. Every mythical creature you heard mentioned that night is plastered on the canvas in front of you. If the waterwyrm is real, you cannot deny that the others must be real, too. 

So, what does that make Silco? Is he a pirate? Does he poach creatures of myth for money? Is he more than that? Is he less than that?

“They’re all real?” You murmur softly, more to yourself than either of the men as you take another refreshing sip of the sweet juice. 

“All these?” Captain Jimmy responds, rapping his bony knuckles against the canvas sheet. “Of course!” He shoots Silco a withering look. “Have you taught her nothing?”

“She has a talent for learning things on her own,” Silco replies.

You are too caught up in reading the list of creatures to throw a verbal barb back at Silco. At first, you’re pleased that you recognize most of the creatures listed from studying various mythologies but you quickly withdraw your enthusiasm. 

After witnessing the waterwyrm, nothing should give you much of a shock but seeing just how many fairytales are actually true makes you feel uneasy. That horrible feeling of uncertainty and imbalance squeezes at your throat again. Your breath comes a little quicker but you hide it by taking quick sips of your drink. You feel lightheaded but you are determined to breathe through it. 

“Would you like another drink, lass?” Captain Jimmy offers. 

“Yes, thank you,” you say. “It is quite a trek to get to your hidden abode.”

Captain Jimmy takes your hollow coconut to refill it. When he’s out of sight, Silco places his hand over yours. 

“Are you alright?” He asks. 

“Just tired. Out of breath. I’m not used to walking over such challenging terrain,” you say. Silco’s good eye narrows just a touch and you can tell he doesn’t fully believe you. Before he can press the matter, Captain Jimmy returns. 

“Here you are, lass. Careful now,” he cautions. “Few can handle more than three servings of my juice.”

“Why is that?” You ask before taking a long sip, allowing the sweetness to settle your nerves. 

“Well, I mix it with the most potent rum found west of Ionia,” he replies. “It’s not for the faint of heart nor drink.”

You swallow your last swig and summon a smile. “Is that so? I can’t taste anything other than fruit juice.”

“That’s the trick of it,” Captain Jimmy lets out a wheezing laugh. “It sneaks up on you.”

“May we return to business, please?” Silco cuts in, a soft snarl in his voice. You fall silent, more than happy to let the attention move away from you. 

Barnaby flutters over, his wings creating small gusts that send your loose hair flying. 

“Drink up, pretty one,” he chitters. “Drink up!”

“You are a very clever bird,” you murmur to him. “Do you like to be pet?”

“Pretty lady pet pretty bird.”

“Oh, I see,” you chuckle softly and run a fingertip over Barnaby’s sapphire head. He rumbles softly as you lavish affection upon him.

“I don’t have enough gold to buy a mermaid’s wish, but I can arrange a trade.”

At the word mermaid, you return your attention to the conversation between Captain Jimmy and Silco. Silco’s upper lip twitches as he shakes his head. 

“I need gold, Jimmy. I can’t go through the trouble of trade after trade,” he says. 

Captain Jimmy frowns. “Then I can’t help you today, old friend. I can check up on some old contacts but you know that will take time.”

Silco goes silent for a moment. He looks at his hands as he appears to be lost in thought. After a while, he looks up. “No trades, but I will leave one wish with you and see if I can’t put the other to use.”

“Wish?” You blurt without thinking. 

Silco turns to you with an expression of annoyance. “I’ll explain it later, treasure. Finish your drink. There is no reason to linger here.”

“Are you sure?” Captain Jimmy says. “You look like you could use a drink, Silco.”

“You aren’t wrong, but now that you’ve given my companion two servings of your special juice, I need to ensure she gets back to the ship safely.”

“I’m fine!” You protest with a frown. 

“Oh? Stand up for me,” Silco challenges.

With a haughty sigh, you do as he asks. The moment you are standing tall, the world spins. You wobble and make several futile attempts to right yourself before Silco reaches out to steady you. 

You are thoroughly drunk. That damn juice was more deceptive than your captor. 

“What is it with pirates and their inability to offer any drinks that aren’t spiked with something or other?” You grumble as you finish off the last of your drink. You’re already sauced. There is no sense in letting it go to waste. You do not wish to be a rude guest. 

“Why do you keep drinking things without checking to see what’s in them? That seems like the better question from where I stand,” Silco says. 

“I never had to think about that until now,” you huff. 

“She’s a bit of a mess, isn’t she?” Barnaby asks, looking at Captain Jimmy with an almost human level of intelligence. 

“What did that bird just say?” you whisper to Silco. The rum obviously had more of an effect on you than you realized.

“You’re a mess,” the blue parrot repeats.

“Now, see here-”

“Treasure, you do realize you’re about to argue with a parrot, right?” Silco gently takes hold of your chin and redirects your gaze so you are looking into his eyes. 

“Right,” you stammer, giving your head a little shake. “You’re right. I apologize.”

“You’re fine, lass. The rum is strong and Barnaby likes to provoke,” Captain Jimmy says before turning to Silco. “I’ll contact you if I get any gold for your mermaid’s wish. Don’t hold your breath, though. Very few have that kind of gold.”

“You know me, Jimmy. I always have to try,” Silco says. “Besides, I still have the other one. I can make something of this.”

“If anyone can, it’s you. Heading out, I suppose?”

“I should get this one to a place where she can’t get into trouble,” Silco says, giving you a gentle nudge. 

“Let the pretty mess stay,” Barnaby squawks before landing close to you. You reach out and gently pet his head. He blinks slowly and leans into your touch. 

“We have to catch the tide,” Silco says. “I’ll be in touch, Captain.” 

“Of course!”

Captain Jimmy waves you off with a flourish as Silco helps you down the trail leading away from the slapdash homestead. 

“Is it just me or is something off about that parrot?” You whisper as you lean on Silco, allowing him to guide you. 

He looks over his shoulder and takes a few more steps before whispering back to you, “just between you and me, I think Barnaby is a man trapped in a parrot’s body.”

You look up at him with wide eyes. “You’re joking, surely.”

“He’s always been more vocal than the other parrots and he doesn’t seem to mimic phrases. Captain Jimmy specializes in trading rare goods. A parrot with the intelligence of a man would fall into that category.”

“Oh, that makes me uneasy.” 

The sandstone landscape pitches and you cling to Silco to keep yourself upright. “Why didn’t you warn me about the juice?”

“Honestly? I figured you needed a drink after your ordeal last night. I didn’t think you’d gulp it down and asked for seconds. That’s not very heiress-like of you.”

“I was parched after the trek up here!” You protest. “Of course, I was thirsty.”

Silco chuckles and shakes his head. “You’re right. I miscalculated. I should have said something. But how do you feel?”

You go still and pay attention to your body. Your limbs feel loose and your mind is pleasantly fuzzy. You know there are many things you should feel stressed about but you can’t bring yourself to care. 

“This is a nice respite from coherent thought, I won’t lie,” you admit. 

It is later in the day that you initially realized. The late afternoon sun has broken through a thin patch of clouds and now shines on the ocean, turning the water into liquid gold. You move toward the light, forcing Silco to follow you. You do not even notice the edge of the plateau until he prevents you from moving forward and pulls you closer to him. 

“I would prefer it if you didn’t fall to your death, treasure,” he says, his voice low and velvety. 

“How gallant,” you murmur back. Your gaze settles on the dark silhouette of the Zaun’s Revenge, bobbing peacefully against the dock. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Are you sure? Last time I brought up this particular subject I’m certain you envisioned all the ways you could end my life.”

“Now you’ve made me truly curious. Out with it.”

What you thought was a confident question evaporates on your tongue and you’re left scrambling for words through a fruity rum haze.

“The life you’ve given Jinx is a life I would kill to have. You, and those serving on your ship, have the freedom that so many dream of. Why would you work against that in search of what you think is a real home?”

Silco stiffens at your words and you worry you’ve pinched a nerve but he eventually lets out a long sigh. 

“Why do you think we are free?” He asks.

“I spent many years at sea with my father. During those years, I felt the most free. I felt like my true self.”

“But during those years, did you not have an estate you could return to whenever you pleased?”

“Well, yes,” you answer. “But I do not like the family estate.”

“Whether you like it or not is irrelevant.” A sharp edge sneaks into his voice. “When you played at being a seafarer, there was always a safe option. You could return to a plush home filled with luxuries.”

“But I didn’t want to,” you reiterate.

“But you were also never in real danger,” Silco points out. “Jinx has no other home. She has nowhere to flee if things become too dangerous. If something happens to me, no one will go out of their way to make sure she’s okay. We need to have a place away from the ship, away from everything we do. I need to give her a home that can never be taken from her, even if something happens to me.”

A horrible sense of guilt fills you. Shame colors your cheeks as you watch the golden water dance. 

“I didn’t think of it that way. I’m sorry,” you say. When Silco says nothing for a long while, a horrible feeling makes your stomach twist up in knots. “It’s good of you to want Jinx to have a safe haven to flee to. Will my ransom go toward that?”

Your question seems to catch him off guard. 

“In a way,” he answers. “There are some debts to be paid and some investments to be made, but yes. Your ransom will put us closer to a safe home.”

“And the stone eye from the waterwyrm? What will that do for you?” You ask. 

“Eventually, Captain Jimmy will find someone prepared to pay its worth in gold. I expect that will take months, even years. But those profits will go towards making a safe haven for me and mine.”

“But there are two stones. What will you do with the other one?”

Silco looks down at you with a faint smile. “I think you’ve had a little bit too much rum to worry about my trade. We need to head back to the ship. We already docked far later in the day than I would have liked.”

“You’re avoiding my question.”

“Yes, I am,” he grins as he guides you back down the trail. He keeps you close as you navigate the winding path, hugging the sandstone formation. You wobble and trip over your own feet often but he never gives you grief for it. At most, he chuckles and tucks you under his arm more securely. 

“Why did you call those glowing stones mermaid’s wishes?” You ask. 

“Just focus on putting one foot in front of the other, treasure,” Silco urges. “I can’t have you tumbling down a canyon. It’s bad enough you were injured when the waterwyrm made its appearance.” 

“Oh, do you care about me, pirate?” You taunt.

“If I have to trek through a valley to find you when you fall victim to your carelessness, I’ll have to carry you back to the ship. If I have to do that, I’ll miss the opportunity to scope the market. That’s bad for business. I dislike practices that are bad for business.” 

“Lucky for you, I enjoy exploring markets more than I enjoy falling into valleys,” you say, though you need his constant support as you navigate the thin trail toward Port Squawkfeather.

The sun is just barely kissing the horizon when you and Silco reach the market. He browses silently with a look of deep concentration nestled between his furrowed brows. You stay quiet, not wishing to interrupt him as you take in your surroundings.

As you pass a table filled with exotic fruits, Silco stops. He picks up a pomegranate and inspects it as though he were assessing a diamond. 

“One crate, please,” he says to the shopkeeper, who looks both shocked and delighted at such a request. They quickly set about packaging an entire crate of pomegranates while you stare at the one Silco holds in his hand. 

Pomegranates are your favorite. Your rum-addled mind can’t conjure a more enticing prize. 

“Here, treasure.” Silco tosses the pomegranate to you and you manage to catch it. You bring it to your chest like some greedy little scavenger as he gives the vendor the information they need. 

You marvel at the color of the fruit like it’s some kind of precious jewel. You are so absorbed in your examination that your mind barely registers the flash of pink in the corner of your eye. 

You go still. You lift your gaze. You turn your head slowly until you spot someone familiar.

Violet. Captain Vander’s first mate. You recognize her hair and her steely demeanor. She does not face you directly, but she is clearly searching the market for signs of you. She must have seen the Zaun’s Revenge docked and idle. 

Beside her is a slender young woman with a shiny sheet of deep blue hair. She clutches a pristine rifle in her hands as she scans the market with sharp eyes. 

For a split second, you prepare to call out to them. They can take you back to Vander, back to your father. But the words get stuck in your throat. 

You look at Silco as he arranges for the crate of pomegranates to be delivered to his ship. You hear his words about wanting a safe place for Jinx echo through your mind. Your ransom will help with that. 

“Captain,” you murmur softly. Your tongue feels like lead as you tug on his sleeve. 

“Treasure?” He looks at you, arching a brow. 

“I…feel ill from that juice. I’d like to return to the ship, please.”

His ocean eye fills with sympathy before he gives you a quick nod. He gives instructions to the fruit seller before tucking you under his arm and guiding you back toward the docks.

“I shouldn’t have let you have that second drink,” he says quietly. 

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” you say. “Perhaps Arlo can funnel some solid food into my system and give me some water.”

“I’m sure he can,” Silco nods.

You are returned to the ship and quickly disappear below deck. You flee to the galley under the guise of helping Arlo, as you promised. You do just that, but as you work on making new labels for everything in the scullery, you can’t help but wonder if you made a mistake not seizing your chance to escape. Worse than that, you wonder why you didn’t want to seize such a chance in the first place. 

[radiosummons]

Even though Wolfwood is very much not an actual Catholic priest, I do find it compelling that Vash--someone without any religious beliefs and minimal exposure to "Christianity," courtesy of Rem (OG Trigun)--is the most faithful of the two.

And by "faithful," I don't mean so much in a religious or Christian sort of sense. More that Vash holds onto his faith that there is good in people and that everyone is worth saving. That the taking of a life is something so unspeakable to him that it will literally cause him immense mental, emotional and physical pain when he is forced to do so. His unshakeable belief, i.e. his faith that every life is precious and no one is beyond redepmtion irregardless of how morally corrupt an individual may be is so foundational to who he is as a character.

While I've only really experienced this through anime and various other Japanese based video games, I do enjoy seeing depictions of Christian iconography and concepts form non-Western creators. I love the art and memes of Vash being a "biblically accurate angel" (even though Plants aren't angels, I am so fucking happy that people are picking up on the unintentional symbolism) and I do enjoy the amount of, again, art and memes of Wolfwood being a cringefail Catholic priest.

But I also love the non-Western depiction of Christianity in Trigun, or rather the apocalyptic remnants of it. Despite the fact I have lost my ability to have faith in a higher being (and my own personal beef/distate with the Catholic Church/conservative Christianity as a whole), I find the worldbuilding of Trigun fascinating in this aspect as it provides its audience an alternative form of a global religion that's very relevant to our daily lives.

In Trigun, Christianity is very much a shadow of its former self, a leftover remnant of humanity--more specifically, a remnant of an old forgotten belief system--that has been essentialy been lost. Save for a few remaining Bibles and some memories of particular Catholic iconography/symbolism.

But overall, that's all that remains. Just familiar symbols and various rituals that some people are able to recall from their former lives.

So the decision to pair Vash up with someone like Wolfwood, someone who has lost his faith in humanity as a whole but has resolved himself to protect those that he can (or rather, deems worthy of saving) ... I find that relationship absolutely fascinating. Because I'd argue that in most Western depictions of a holy man (typically Christian and typically Catholic, let's be real), it's usually the holy man that is doing the saving. Or at the very least, is usually helping guide the other characters on their own paths towards redemption.

Despite the fact Wolfwood isn't an actual priest but instead an assassin trained by a mercenary group using the guise of an old religion (again, that most of humanity has clearly forgotten about), I find it to be a wonderful storywriting choice to make Vash the "holy man."

They're both incredibly tragic characters that burden themselves with crippling destinies. Destinies that ultimately lead to their own destruction, but hopefully all for the greater good. Vash holds faith that maybe, just maybe, he can make Nai realize the error of his ways and turn over a new leaf.

Understandably, Wolfwood finds this way of thinking horribly childish and naive. He even takes it as a personal insult when Vash continues to insist that killing people, even if it's for the sake of protecting someone else, is wrong.

But Vash isn't wrong for wanting to see the good in people. To borrow a quote from Everything Everywhere All At Once: "You tell me it's a cruel world, and we're all running around in circles. I know that. I've been on this earth just as many days as you. When I choose to see the good side of things, I'm not being naive. It is strategic and necessary. It's how I've learned to survive through everything. I know you see yourself as a fighter. Well, I see myself as one too. This is how I fight."

Granted, Vash doesn't express his beliefs as eloquently as this. But that doesn't really matter, though. Because Wolfwood doesn't need Vash to make express himself this way for Wolfwood to finally understand him. Vash, by the simple of virtue of being himself, is a good person who chooses to see the good in others.

And Wolfwood ... Wolfwood is someone who chooses to see the bad.

Wolfwood cannot quite bring himself to view the world the way Vash does. And Vash will never be able to share Wolfwood's opinions regarding who is worthy of living, either. But they respect each other and understand where the other person is coming from.

It does take Wolfwood a lot longer to understand Vash as a person, let alone his faith in humanity. But when he does, it's so satisfying to watch Vash become someone important to him. Someone that he wants to protects. Because if Vash won't defend himself, Wolfwood resolves to be the one to protect Vash.

Even if Vash doesn't really want that.

It's so fucking amazing to see these two clash over their ideals, whether it's in the form of playful teasing or straight up beating the shit out of each other. But they stay together and hold each other in such high regard despite their conflicting beliefs.

To me, one of the most beautiful aspescts of Trigun is that Wolfwood--a man of faith but only in name--gets to have such a close connection with Vash--a man of faith through and through--and that because of their relationship, they both inspire a existential AND spiritual crisis within one another.

Because in a world that makes no sense, they both find faith in each other. And if that isn't the most beautiful shit you've ever seen, then I don't know what is.

[jellystarjam]

lets talk about “impure” regression 💫

from someone who experiences it!

this post references some triggering topics, so please process with caution below 🩷💛🩵🩷💛🩵

if you’re familiar with the age regression community, you’ve most likely heard the terms “pure” and “impure” regression. These are widely accepted ways to describe if somebody’s regression is a positive experience, or a negative one. However, age regressors are starting to move away from these terms, because they’re actually very harmful!

As we know, age regression in most cases is a coping mechanism for survivors of abuse and trauma (but if your regression is purely recreational, that’s wonderful!). Many of us have had our childhoods taken away from us at a very young age. Regression is a way to reclaim that childhood experience and heal from our traumatic memories. As such, sometimes the line between our physical childhoods and our mental child-like states can get a little blurry. This can result in things like flashbacks, panic attacks, mood swings, or harmful stims / coping mechanisms.

many of us may experience involuntary regression- meaning we can’t control when we slip into our regressed states. Sometimes, this means feeling small, vulnerable, and scared in the middle of the day- public places, unfamiliar environments, or even dangerous situations. involuntary regression could also look like uncontrollably regressing to a younger age when confronted with a trigger, or negative emotions like fear or loneliness.

as you can imagine, these are not positive experiences. and when age regressors put these experiences into a category we label as bad, it makes those of us who experience painful regression feel even more lonely and invalid.

many of us, myself very much included, also struggle with a sense of shame, or sometimes even “dirtiness” around our regression. For me personally, i have had others sexu@l!ze my regression and ridicule and berate me for it. Because of this, i often feel like i’m doing something very very wrong by regressing. The term “impure” deeply upsets me, as it brings a connotation of uncleanliness/immorality to my coping mechanism. And I know i’m not the only little who experiences this!

separating age regression into these two categories is a little bit like dividing therapy up into two categories- imagine if we said the people who go to therapy because they feel good telling someone about their feelings, or they want advice, or for any reason other than a psychological struggle, go to “normal people therapy”. And the people who suffer from mental illness, who are trying to deal with trauma, or who are experiencing a crisis go to “crazy people therapy”. It helps no one and hurts those who are already hurting enough.

I’ve seen many people ask for alternative terms to impure regression. Here’s my suggestion: no alternatives. We don’t need to be categorized under a different name- we are the same as regressors who have purely positive littespaces. Whether your regression is “impure” or not; it’s still age regression. Sunshines and Rainbows aren’t a trademark of this coping mechanism. You aren’t in the wrong for struggling with big feelings when you’re feeling little.

And to all of the other regressors who relate to this, know that you are just as tiny, cute, and sweet as every other kiddo out there. You’re not bad, and you’re not broken. And there is nothing impure about giving yourself the childhood you deserve.

that is all <3

[bayofwolves]

Rereading Fire and Ice

We're back again after a short break! Sorry this one took so long to get out, adult life caught up to me. As you might know, these posts are to discuss interesting tidbits and things I hadn't noticed before. Let's get right to it!

Once again, please mind the tags.

In A Revised History of Erdas, Rollan is native and has his long hair in two braids, so this cover messes with me. I really fuck with the colour scheme, though.

Meilin thinks Maya might be crazy. She also jokes about burning Pia's house down in a later chapter, which is a little unsettling! These are definitely just throwaway lines that aren't meant to be thought about again, but I find myself wishing the authors had purposefully written Maya to be a little bit off. It would add something to her character, at least.

Rollan is confirmed to be a person of colour! Yay! "His brown eyes were warm, his brown skin speckled with dirt from the road, his broad face comfortingly familiar." I wasn't a fan of the ambiguous "tan" description he got before.

It seems Abeke may have been physically abused in her home as well as emotionally. She says that if she had ever talked back to her father like Rollan did to Pia, she would be switch-whipped. Pojalo, mark my words, you will answer for everything you've done to hurt this girl.

Abeke being a Rain Dancer becomes relevant! Everybody cheer! Being near water helps her think clearly and make sense of the situation in Samis. Would have been nice to show her actually making it rain at any point like Rain Dancers are supposed to do, but I'll take this, I guess…

Aidana may have had Rollan when she was a teenager. This doesn't have any real merit, but I think it's very possible. And no matter her age at the time, given her circumstances -- living on the streets, mentally unwell and experiencing frequent blackouts -- I doubt her pregnancy was of her own will. Especially considering how she never mentions anything about Rollan's father, and he never asks.

Rollan doesn't seem to remember Wikerus. (Perhaps he only had traumatic memories of him, and his brain covered these up along with the memories of Aidana's sickness.) He probably would have mentioned to the Greencloaks that his mother was Marked if he'd known.

Zerif must have found and cured Aidana while he was in Concorba seeking Rollan and Essix. I doubt he would have visited that city on two separate occasions. He likely came across her after losing Rollan to Olvan. Another element of tragedy to their story: Aidana was possibly just hours or minutes too late to safely reunite with her son.

Aidana talks about the Devourer helping people, seeking out those afflicted by the bonding sickness and curing them with the Bile. It's unclear if she means Gar or Shane by this, but I'm inclined to believe the latter. In that case, it would have been interesting to see some of this -- Shane finding people the Greencloaks passed over and taking their pain away. He would have genuinely thought he was doing something right, even if he was offering them up to Gerathon in the process.

Pia may have been alive in Feliandor's time, as Rollan notices she doesn't seem surprised to learn of the new war. This is entirely possible, as Suka presumably froze herself and stopped visiting Samis soon after the Fall of the Four in the First Devourer War.

The animal that attacks the group's boat on their way to Arctica isn't fully revealed. I hope it was a creature that doesn't exist on Earth. I imagine a hippocampus or something like it, since the noise made when Tarik strikes it is described as sounding like a wet horse's flank.

Tarik's bond with Lumeo gives him the power to control water. Wish we'd seen more of this.

Abeke has never seen hail before their nights in Arctica.

Conor singing has always been one of the most memorable parts of this book for me. I wish there'd been other instances of him singing folk songs for the group.

So as we've seen with Suka, Great Beasts can devolve into a beast-like state -- presumably if they are comatose for a long period of time. Suka had probably been asleep for hundreds of years, so it makes sense that her mind would be delayed.

Jhi calming Suka reminds me of what Meilin's bond token was intended to do. It would have been a neat callback to what happened here if it had stopped Song's murderous rage.

Halawir's identity as the Betrayer has actually been hinted at in a few books prior to the reveal, this one and Tales of the Great Beasts. Here, it's clear that him asking for Suka's talisman meant he was up to something.

Abeke and Maya's little conversation where they hold hands for comfort and call each other magical is the gayest thing these books have given us since... Suka and Jhi, a few chapters ago. It's a really sweet but also sad moment, Maya revealing that she is traumatized and Abeke not knowing how to help. Definitely one of my favourite parts.

The dream Conor has about the group all wearing strange shoes could have actually had some meaning behind it. The laces on Meilin's dumpling shoes that stretch behind them for miles could symbolize her Bile bond leading the Conquerors to them. Abeke falling through the ice with her fire shoes, but Conor being unable to save her, could foreshadow her being captured by the Conquerors in the next book. As you may recall, Conor was not present and could not do anything when this happened.

I don't believe Shane had any intention of cutting Uraza off Abeke's skin. It's this line for me: "Shane is too much of a diplomat, so Zerif made sure we [Ana and Tahlia] came along and enforced the plan. He was especially hurt by Abeke's betrayal." I'm assuming Shane knew of the plan, and may have been okay with threatening Abeke to get what he wanted (similar to how he used Achi to win his fight against Lishay in The Book of Shane: Vendetta), but wasn't going to actually harm her. He knew he could get the talisman another way. Zerif, on the other hand, wanted Abeke to suffer and so sent two of his minions along. Less plausible is the chance Shane wasn't even in on it to begin with, and Zerif (and his minions) deliberately conspired behind his back. (I'm all for the Conquerors defying Shane's authority, given that ARHoE has Drina stage a coup, so I find this possibility particularly intriguing.)

Kind of wish Abeke had ridden on Great Briggan with Conor in the final battle. Would have made for an iconic scene.

Poor Abeke is concussed during the final battle. I never spotted this growing up because I've never had a concussion and didn't know the signs. I thought she was just tripping, to be honest.

Rollan begins to slip into suicidal ideation after his mom tries to kill him. This book has not been kind to our protagonists, not one bit.

On this quest, the team has done two terrible things: destroyed the Ice Palace, a place built by generations of Ardu, and condemned the entire village of Samis to death. And all for a talisman that slips out of their hands, no less.

My final thoughts on Fire and Ice are mixed. There were some inconsistencies and relapses in character development, and while I can chalk it up to being a product of the many different authors working on this series, it still got on my nerves a little. Let's be real, Conor's animosity towards Shane came out of nowhere and is wildly out of character for him. Rollan shouldn't have still been grating on Conor for giving away the Iron Boar when they resolved that conflict back in Blood Ties. It's a little messy. But I liked the rest. They introduced some elements in this one that really grabbed me. I absolutely love Aidana and her relationship with Rollan; she's a good example of how the war is not so black and white. I love how our protagonists firmly believe anything they do is justified because it's for the greater good, choosing to ignore the destruction they leave behind. I love the depth Rollan got, though it unfortunately came at the expense of other characters'. I wish they hadn't waited to develop Maya until we were nearing the end; I really enjoyed her when they gave her a bigger role. The focus this author gave Conor and Abeke has always been a highlight of the series for me; their relationship is so sweet and caring, though I see it as more platonic than anything. And of course, I loved the darker elements that this book had. Not only that, but it left me in emotional pain, which is exactly what I need to consider something a good read.

All in all, another solid addition to the series. This journey hurt our protagonists so much, and it hurt me.

This is part of an ongoing series.

Wild Born | Hunted | Blood Ties | Fire and Ice | Against the Tide | Rise and Fall | The Evertree

Immortal Guardians | Broken Ground | The Return | The Burning Tide

Heart of the Land | The Wildcat's Claw | Stormspeaker | The Dragon's Eye

Tales of the Great Beasts | The Book of Shane | Tales of the Fallen Beasts

[mjjune]

🧠 Brain Ask Game

Because I am a NERD who has taken multiple neuroanatomy classes and love brains!

Send me a part of the brain 🧠 and an OC (or I'll pick) to find out...

I have their (over)simplified functions listed, for your Education.

Frontal lobe (executive function) - What is their defining personality trait? What is the trait that, if lost, this OC would become unrecognizable?

Parietal Lobe (physical sensation) - Are there any physical sensations (e.g. temperatures, textures, etc) that your character extra loves and can't get enough of?

Temporal Lobe (auditory, emotion, memory) - What is their most emotionally poignant childhood memory? (good or bad)

Occipital Lobe (vision) - What do they consider the most beautiful thing to look at? (e.g. colors, scenery, a person)

Cerebellum (motor coordination) - Has there been a time where they were just an utter clutz? Please tell us.

Hippocampus (memory) - Are they the kind of person who can remember things easily, or do they have to write everything down?

Basal Ganglia (lots of shit, including learning & motor movements) - How quickly does your character learn a new skill, and what kind of help/teaching style do they benefit from the most?

Thalamus (signal relay, attention, consciousness) - How is their attention? Can they multitask well? Do they have ADHD?

Broca's Area (language expression) - Do they express themselves well? Do they communicate better in writing or speaking?

Wernicke's Area (language comprehension) - Do they prefer to listen or read? Are they speed readers or very slow?

Meninges (support, protection) - Tell us about a time when this OC protected someone or something they care about.

Midbrain (pain signals) - What is the most physically painful thing they have ever experienced?

Pons (cranial nerves for eyes, face, & hearing) - Do they have an hearing or visual deficits? Do they wear glasses or need any supports?

Medulla Oblongata (heart, breathing, unconscious functions) - Who or what is their lifeline?

[sometimesraven]

The fact that I went through most of my life experiencing, processing and healing from my trauma alongside The Doctor only for RTD to go “lol the last 15 years of character growth didn’t happen actually” is a slap in the face actually

Thirteen’s era was bad in a lot of ways but one of the first things I noticed was that her brightness and her optimism were such a natural progression of the healing Twelve did throughout his regeneration. And as someone who had also gone through the same growth and was learning to accept and love and Just Be despite everything that was huge to me, it was such a hopeful message just as Doctor Who has always been for me.

I’ve been thinking about it and I realised we’ve already seen what happened in The Giggle. In Moffat’s era, but it was over time and it was earned.

Twelve was carrying So Much trauma. He was tired and bitter and angry, carrying the expectations he’d learned in the previous incarnation (that people see him as far higher than he sees himself, that he’s a god and a warrior and a healer and he doesn’t want that, he just wants his friends and his box). He’s fighting between who he is and who he’s expected to be and he can’t run away from it any more.

This all comes to a head with Heaven Sent/Hell Bent where he loses his best friend. The woman who had guided him and supported him through this trauma, the one who was there to help him learn that the preconceived pressures of “good” and “bad” he put upon himself were bullshit and he’s just Some Guy Doing His Best and that’s okay, he doesn’t have to be more than he is even if the universe tells him so. He thinks he’s responsible for her actions (which arguably goes all the way back to Davros accusing him of turning his companions into weapons) and he relapses into trying to control everything, brings her back, does all of this shit for her that she never asked for.

And that’s when he learns his inability to let go and actually face the pain rather than running from it is hurting people and himself. He’s faced with what he did to Donna at long last and given the chance to not repeat that mistake. Clara teaches him one last lesson.

Then he settles. He takes care of Missy and spends some time as a professor, meets a new companion and by the end of his regeneration he learns to let go.

This is the point where I realised RTD had somehow rehashed something that had already been done.

He lets go. He passes the torch into a brighter, more optimistic Doctor less burdened by the previous incarnations’ trauma and ripe for a whole heap of NEW trauma, still remembering all she’s lost but able to put it behind her and focus on the happy memories and the love. She has a family.

The Doctor had healed in a meaningful way, and more importantly a way those watching could see and realise that yes, it’s possible. Yes, it’ll still hurt sometimes, but it’s possible to heal from the terrible things that have been done to you. It’s possible to live a full, happy, bright existence even if the past doesn’t truly go away.

Obviously it all goes downhill again and yeah, the unfortunate writing means that Thirteen had some really unhealthy coping mechanisms that were never addressed. Yeah, the Flux happens. Yeah, Gallifrey dies again.

But.

Imagine this for a second: Rose and Donna’s “let go” statement, ignoring the gender essentialism. It turns out they’re actually harkening back to “Doctor, I let you go.”. Thirteen bigenerates and Fourteen (Ncuti) gives the “therapy in the wrong order” speech, but this time it’s because they’ve already been through the same trauma.

They’ve already seen their planet die, they’ve already lost so much and felt responsible for so much death, but because they’ve already been through that trauma from 9-12 and been through that healing combined with the Toymaker’s wibbly wobbly laws of physics, the bigeneration came from a subconscious recognition that they’re relapsing into those bad habits (compartmentalise, put it away, keep running) and that they need to slow down and stop to process this again.

It would be an excellent way of doing what Rusty wanted and soft rebooting while also showing the audience “hey, sometimes when you think everything is okay it’ll fall apart again, you’ll relapse, things will seem shitty, but because you’ve done all this healing and have all these tools and learned to trust people it’ll be easier to bounce back from, just have patience with yourself” rather than coming across as just completely retconning 15 years of character growth in favour of cheap fanservice

Idk I just have so many issues with The Giggle and I thought they’d get smaller over time as I get over the initial what the fuck but I’m only getting angrier lmao. Like acknowledge the previous writers or don’t, you can’t acknowledge them and then try to gaslight an entire audience into thinking it didn’t happen

[mad-doodle-disease]

out with ye ruined olde, in with the ruined new

they spent all day and most of the night walking. every single second was spent either trudging forward or protecting themselves from an infected cog or toon. it was grueling for timmy riddle, horrifically normalized to prester, and physically painful for winston. despite the pain wrecking through the skelecog's rusted joints, winston quickly went back to their usual "chipper" self, talkative and chatty and now just oh so curious. it was initially a bit endearing, but quickly got grating. you can only listen to a faulty skelecog glitchily ask you questions about a world that has since gone up in flames so many times. when winston asked where "the sickness" came from, prester realized something.

he hadn't seen doodles at all lately. he saw tons of them during the start of the end times, but lately it felt like they didn't even exist anymore. had they gone extinct? that quickly? prester didn't care much for toon life, which doodles fell under, but the thought a species could be wiped out in a little over 3 weeks was terrifying. if the doodles could be wiped out that quickly what chance did anyone have?

they had to get out of ye olde toontowne, there was nothing for any of them left here. they didn't care where they went, they all just wanted to leave. timmy had spent his entire life in yott, so he had no preference. winston only had fuzzy memories of places other than yott or, in particular, the dungeon, those memories mostly being from sellbot hq or the now impossible-to-reach cog nation. prester had no preference.

they had soon found themselves in a new district. a much more modern seeming area, prester recognized it as the central oil district, or, as timmy would call it "toontown central". prester remembered that this place was apparently the place the infection started... for the womb of such a disease, they didn't see a lot of "life". only stationary corpses, curled up like wilted flowers.

prester virgil: hmmph, "silly street". such an infantile name, but i would not expect better from your ilk, timmy.

timmy just grit his teeth and boar it. oh, he wanted to turn this fucking lawbot bitch into a spoon or something so badly, but he had his wand confiscated by the yott elders before the infection started and never managed to get it back. winston whined, their metal joints getting somehow even more creaky than they originally were.

winston byrd: m-my fee-e-et hurttt... can we-e-e rest soon-oon? prester virgil: absolutely not. this place is hotbed of illness, we would be mauled post haste. timmy riddle: i don't know, this place seems like a ghost town to me... sounds to me like you just don't want to rest.

timmy leaned in examining prester a bit more closely. his eyes looked forcibly widened, like he was making a conscious effort to both stay awake and look awake. each blink, he swayed a bit to the side, as if powering off for a second before quickly turning back on. it was a bit eerie, how lifelike a robot could be.

timmy riddle: ...or maybe you just don't want to admit you need to rest. prester virgil: you dare accuse me of being exhausted? mooncalves! besides, we lack a safe space to rest, we are not just going to lay down in the middle of the road and resemble the cadavers that surround us!

timmy blinked for a second, walking over to a nearby building. "toontown cinerama. now playing 'night of the living dipped'. timmy took a second to acknowledge the irony, he never got to watch the film but it sounded like a zombie apocalypse thing... and they were currently experiencing something similar. timmy checked the door only to realize it was locked, so he settled with busting a window open with his elbow instead. he crawled through, bits of shattered glass cutting him up a bit, before unlocking and opening the door from the inside.

timmy riddle: found a safe space.

prester groaned, knowing that even he would not be able to resist the temptation of a good nights rest after countless sleepless nights. watching as winston rather quickly ran inside the abandoned theater, he begrudgingly followed suit.

winston byrd: a-a-a theater! a the-e-eater! its been s-so long since ive bee-en to a theater... o-or watched a-a movie o-o-or... a-anything fun! timmy riddle: dont you cogs hate fun or whatever? what kind of movies do you guys even watch? 2 hours on uninterrupted footage of a guy filing his taxes? winston byrd: i-i-i dont remember... i-i-i-i-i-i- prester virgil: im going to... rest my eyes for a bit... a simple cat nap, only a cat nap...

with that, prester limply fell forwards, hitting the ground with a heavy thud. this startled winston, who immediately assumed he had died and ran over to check on him. timmy did so too, although with less panic in his step.

winston byrd: pre-e-ester!? p-prester!! timmy riddle: relax, he just passed out. hes going to be fine... sadly.

winston worryingly picked up prester's hat, which fell off him due to the fall. they examined it for a second, really enjoying the feeling of the brim between their fingers, before placing it back on his head. timmy sat down in a chair, leaning back and tipping the brim of his own hat over his eyes.

timmy riddle: you should sleep too, or whatever you cogs do. you look like a mess, but then again you always look like a mess sooo...

timmy chuckled a bit, before falling asleep himself, leaving winston the only one still conscious. winston, being made incredibly curious from their newfound freedom, instead opted to explore the place. they found a couple blankets, a pillow, and some stale popcorn.

they returned to the entrance, draping two of the blankets over prester and timmy, leaving the last one for themself. they also gave prester the pillow cause that fall looked like it really hurt his head.

winston ate the stale popcorn, every last bit, not caring about the taste or how out of date it was. they then curled up on the floor, quickly falling asleep as they were used to sleeping on a floor. they were just happy to have a blanket and that the floor was carpeted for once.

that popcorn was the best damn popcorn they ever ate.