#mellow answers

[mellowscrolls]

I’ll bite! Tell me about your Dragon Cult headcanons :0

Okay! Dear God, let me go find my notes spread over like ten different documents (exaggeration)!

Alright, so starting off, I'm going to throw in a disclaimer that this is lore built off of Metallic and Liches' works and headcanons all given a new coat of varnish as I scoot my plagiarism ray out of frame. I'm going to throw it under a read more for clarity and the sake of everyone.

TW for manipulation, cults, mutilation (non-graphic)

Starting with the ancient hierarchy, I have it go somewhere like: Alduin > High Ranking Dovah > Konahriik > High Rank Dov's Ruling Priest > Low Ranking Dovah > Their Ruling Priest > Wooden Masks > Acolytes (unmasked) > Divines Clergy > Everyone Else. Technically Akatosh/Bormahu was supposed to be/was advertised as the top of that chain, but that didn't work out so much in practice.

Within the cult itself were a few key customs. Let's start with the masked priests.

Dov have one masked priest each to handle the politics and mortal affairs of their Junaar (kingdom). These masks are made of precious metal or material and can be made custom to the specifications of the dov who requires them. There is one Masked Priest per dovah who earns one, and that internal hierarchy amongst the dragons means that your status and what you are in charge of may change very frequently depending on your dragon's social standing.

It is a great honor and a great burden to be chosen for the role of a Named Masked priest. Masked priests are given names by their dovah, usually approved by Alduin, in a naming ceremony that erases their mortal name from living and recorded memory. Only the dov bestowing the new name may remember the old, and to keep a copy of the name in physical form is considered a great insult.

In preparation for a naming ceremony, priests are usually imbued with "blessings" by being carved with (or even forced themselves to carve) Words of Power into their skin, which are then imbued with power and bound to the priest-to-be's soul by their dovah. These enchantments are binding to the soul in a way that can either slightly shift their personality to favor the nature of the word or can make them a completely different person, at their dovahthuri's discretion. These blessings are extremely hard to sunder and cannot be harmed by the person they are upon unless directly ordered by their dovah or Alduin. (Most of the carving part of the headcanon was pioneered by @metallic-scaled-scarf with Nonvul, go check them out)

Under the Masked priest within their own Junaar was usually a group of attendants ranging in number from about 3-5. They are the Wooden Priests, wearing wooden masks in the style of their Priest, symbolizing their un-named and un-blessed status. They were not allowed to speak, but were usually able to communicate telepathically as a sort of hivemind while still maintaining most of their original personality. Masked Priests were always chosen from their predecessor's pool of Wooden Priests, so there was a long-term competitive nature usually fostered within their little group. Any Clergy below the Masked and Wooden Priests went without a facial covering and could communicate freely. When converging in Bromjunaar for moots, the Masked Named priests would trade their masks for wooden ones to hear the words of Konahriik, as both a gesture symbolizing equality as well as silence before the words of the Mouthpiece of Alduin.

In global politics, mer were much more unlikely to ever make it to the rank of Masked Priest, with the Falmer treated as slaves and prisoners of conquest while the Ayleids and Chimer were treated as highly tenuous allies at best. Dragons did not usually care for their priests so much as use them as tools of communication and politick. A Masked Priest was very regularly simply a new game of chess to start with the other Dov as one would vie for another's power, land, or status.

As for individual Headcanons, or how I write my dragon priests, I will make another post in the near future.

[canisalbus]

Ok ok hear me out: it could end in tragedy,, AND have a happy ending. The attempt(s) on Machete’s life force him to flee, he doesn’t even have the chance to find Vasco. Cue gay longing for at least a few years while Machete despairs over the loss of his love, his life, his status. He and Vasco only reunite (again) in their later years. Their relationship is forever flavored with loss and loneliness, but that only means they savor every moment that much more

I also I would like to see them as old men. Vasco would be so droopy :)

You gave me such old dog brainworms.

[misc-obeyme]

Running at diavolo just for a hug because physical affection is top tier (for me) then proceeding to fall asleep on his shoulder while ignoring Lucifer's scolding. you cannot tell me diavolo isn't a living(?) heater. I would then wake up like five minutes later with a nose bleed because I over heated.

Anyways, this would be harder to do with barbatos because he is a busy man. I would probably do it after diavolos fell asleep so he's not as busy. Then proceed to fall asleep on his shoulder but minus the nose bleed cause he's probably cold blooded or colder than other demons. Don't hold me to that.

Would they allow it?

Bows for barb

Oh, Diavolo would without a doubt. And I agree that he is likely a furnace of a demon - he's got that whole fire aesthetic going, but even aside from that he just looks like one of those men who naturally run hot. I think he's just a liiiiittle bit touch starved and would totally love to just hold you while you fell asleep on his shoulder. He'd probably look at Lucifer with big ole puppy eyes over the top of your head like, look Lucifer MC is asleep on me isn't that so cute?!?! Lucifer meanwhile is like siiiigh yes Diavolo adorable.

Though I do think he'd be concerned about a nosebleed. Because oh no you're bleeding!!!

I do agree that it'd be more difficult with Barbatos. However, I do think he would also allow it, though perhaps less frequently than Diavolo would. I can see him wanting to indulge you, but also concerned about you in general. If you fall asleep, you really should be in a better position so you don't strain any muscles. And you should be warm. He'd eventually carry you to your bed, I think.

[hitwiththetmnt]

[While you sit at the fire, a sneaky thief slowly grabs your marshmallows]

@tmnt-fandom-family-reunion

Marshmallow thieves need to be a lot more careful if they want to be successful

@tmnt-fandom-family-reunion

Cabin #7 (7 Wonders of the Turtleverse)

[wheeboo]

soft thoughts for hao lately (well everyday) but ever since he said that he liked his hair long because his hair flutters along with the wind it just sent me down

but just the thought of being able to play with his long hair while humming and it’s just he probably sleeps because of how calming it all rlly is 💥🤩

that first part sounded like an animation i would see in disney of his hair pls idk why that was my first thoughts LMAOO

just imagine it being the early hours of the afternoon, natural sunlight pouring through the large windows and bathing the living room with an ethereal glow. the two of you were huddling on the couch together, white noise from the tv playing in the background. minghao is sprawled on his back, legs hanging off the couch and his head resting on top of your lap with a book in his hands, while you were quietly scrolling through your phone.

you find your hands absentmindedly kneading through strands of his hair. you love the length of his hair right now--how you're able to easily play with it, how it feels so soft and silky between your fingers, and you don't notice the way minghao's eyelids flutter at your touch. unbeknownst to you, the sensation of your fingers moving through his hair has caused his thoughts to drift away from the book.

"honey," minghao mutters, his voice making your fingers abruptly stop.

you look down at him, your fingers still tangled in his hair, and meet his gaze. his eyes are half-lidded, a tender smile gracing his lips.

"you're gonna make me fall asleep," he murmurs, gesturing to the book in his hands.

you chuckle lightly. "well, we can't have that, can we? wouldn't want you to miss out on the exciting parts of the book."

minghao's lips curve into a playful grin, his gaze holding yours for a lingering moment. his fingers close the book with a soft thud, reaching over to set it aside on the coffee table.

"i think i can put it on pause for now." then he nestles his head back at the curve of your thighs, grabbing your hand and guiding it back in its position through his hair. "can you..."

rolling your eyes, you start weaving your fingers through his hair again, and he releases a contented sigh. a low hum starts to leave your lips as you watch the way his eyes struggle to stay open, even fluttering to a close for a few times. it only takes a few minutes for him to finally surrender to your touch, his breathing becoming slow and steady, mouth curved into a faint smile.

you take a moment to appreciate his features--the way his long eyelashes cast soft shadows on his cheeks, the way his fingers are loosely entwined with yours.

he looks so peaceful like this, you say to yourself.

[sincerely-sofie]

Omg I love Ruby

I'm not sure that the person who sent in her origin story quite understands how much I adore this girl. I love her so much. She's my baby. Oh my goodness gracious. She's such a good partner-in-crime for Opal and I can see these two forming an exploration team together when they grow up.

Team Smoke and Mirrors are some of the most well-known scouts there are in the exploration team world— they aren't the best of the best, but they're up there in skill, and Guildmaster Bidoof is always bragging that those two were apprenticed at his guild, and look at how they turned out! Yup yup, he's so proud to have been able to help them get their footing and send such a doggone wonderful team out into the world, gosh!

Chatot retired shortly before the Guild received their application papers, and he's slightly conflicted about that.

On the one hand, he'd like to resume his work and ensure they get a proper apprenticeship— while he's never met Ruby, he remembers when Twig brought a younger Opal to the Guild on a handful of occasions when her husband (Chatot shudders whenever he recalls the reality of who she married) was away on his own errands and she couldn't get a sitter for the day. He recalls Opal transforming into a downy little hatchling of his species during the first visit, and she was always in that form before Twig even came through the front doors on subsequent visits— when Bidoof casually mentioned the significance of this, Chatot was so emotional the rest of the day that he misfiled an embarrassing number of reports. He doubts Opal remembers him at all, but he'd be proud to keep her and her sister on the straight and narrow.

On the other hand, her and her sister are Twig's daughters. He barely survived ONE Twig. The thought of TWO of them being apprenticed simultaneously, let alone on a single team, is nearly enough to make his feathers go gray with just the thought.

[punks-never-die205]

Kid as a minotaur tho

I'm going to need you to go check out @don-mellow - specifically his twitter and patreon.

Because there's nothing else I can think of when I think of Kid as a Minotaur other than Don's wonderful fucking art of Bull-Tass.

Except I can't share any of it here.

[smtown-tourist]

Ever since Taemin came out with his own lightstick, I’ve been fantasizing about what the other SHINee members’ lightsticks would look like 🤔💎

[midnightmah07]

more mellow content i am starving/j

IF U INSIST... I may post the story I wrote... BUT I wanna take a nap and do some other stuff....... I'll post it later

[conherofrost]

What was the hardest thing to readjust to once you got off the streets?

Quite a number of things, although I adjusted to them rather quickly and welcomely. Having luxuries suddenly thrust back upon you makes you realize just how bare minimum you were surviving off of. Took me awhile to be able to stomach larger meals (apparently, that's something your stomach can do if you're starved enough- just straight up reject you trying to feed it too much, which sucks) and stop sleeping with one eye open or flinching at everything.

One oddly specific thing, however, is it took me a while to be able to look myself in the mirror again. On the run, I didn't really afford myself the opportunity to peep at my reflections, not even in puddles or storefront glass or anything, so when I was first able to get a shower and I spotted myself in my Final Form, it was so unrecognizable that it startled me. As Hit recounts, I apparently dropped to the floor like a flicked bug. It was such a stark contrast from what I knew that I was convinced it wasn't me, it was something else out to get me.

I've since come to terms with my new form, but something still stops me from wiping the fog off the mirror.

[fate-defiant]

it bugs me that it's never made quite clear if the whole raven blood schtick is Possession™ or more of a Jekyll-and-Hyde situation. I personally lean more towards the latter as it's more coherent, like, themes-wise.

[canisalbus]

If I remember correctly you created Machete around 2007-2008. But when did you create Vasco? (I'm sorry of this has been asked before, I couldn't find anything)

First finished pictures of Vasco are from 2018, but even before that I had been thinking it would be interesting if Machete had had one (1) romantic relationship in his youth before he was ordained. I just didn't have a name and design for him yet.

In the earliest sketches of Vasco, he first looked a little bit like a bordercollie, then like a spaniel or a setter. He had a darker color palette as well, sort of chestnut brown with white markings, but combined with the overpowering whiteness of Machete he looked kind of impassionate and drab, so I kept making him warmer and lighter until he became the golden boy he is today. The name came later, I just thought Vasco sounded friendly and charismatic. (Also the old finnish word 'vaski' means brass and bronze, and even if it's a tedious connection and doesn't factor into their canon at all, it felt too fitting to me personally and I had to go with it).

[journey-to-the-attic]

see now we have to talk abt when ik gets older and she dosent wanna spend as much time w her dad anymore….lucifer will understand but you KNOW his heart broke in two

the especial tragedy is that lucifer's perspective of time is super different to ours what with his massive lifespan, so from his pov he had way too little time with his little kid before she was already declaring herself too old to be carried around and fussed over like before

i think everyone would have the same problem, like they get it but why why whyyy do humans have to grow up so fast

[vaingod]

knowing how to say hello and thank you in most languages is a good thing except when its stressful border control situations and people believe your abilities to understand them, im sorry heavily tattooed gelled up gay german man i only know vielen dank, bitte sehr, and wo kann ich rauchen, thats it!!!

[kewpiekills]

Usually I don't care for oc x canon but I adore your Nurse x Scout art. Its like Mary Shelley's Frankenstein to me. Someday Nurse will torture that poor twink to death and Scout will be too desperate to say no. Once nurse has permanently destroyed Scout's mind he will regret the loss of this actual human being he's ruined<3<3<3<3<3 More unethical experiments on his gay ass please!!!

YOU GET IT FOR REALLLL!!!!!! i’ve kinda decided Nurse calms down on the twink abuse once he realizes how utterly desperate Scout is, willing to injure or kill himself over and over just for a lick of positive attention. but his intentions were definitely just to fuck with him with no realization his actions would have consequences until it was a bit too late. i’ve gotta actually like, make more of a comic with these two sometime, but you got their dynamic down pat <3

[brutal-nemesis]

YWDaC: Turns Out, Forever Is a Long Time

Ayo we have FINALLY arrived at the end of Castys's lil pirate misadventure I hope you have enjoyed all of the delicious lore

←Previous - Castys Masterlist

Ingredients: storm at sea activity, mentioned stabbing, suicide for "convenience" (it's not quite the usual level of he doesn't care but it's still not like bro wants to die yk), a little self harm (once again, out of practicality)

What Castys really wanted was to have something for breakfast, but responsibilities came first, so here he was, delivering a message that he could have ordered anyone else to relay, just so he could go back belowdecks and hopefully grab something on the way back, which made him wonder if he should have been given responsibilities in the first place, but oh well, he didn’t put himself in charge. Now, to get this done so he could eat. Castys knocked on the door in front of him, and upon hearing a noise that sounded like a word, he entered. Captain Izogie was sitting with her shirt partially off and her back to him, exposing the bold patterns of white fire ink curling around her dark shoulders. Alfyn was standing behind her with his hands on her bare back, clearly concentrating. It was a sight he’d seen before, but he always felt a little awkward stumbling upon it. 

“Uh, sorry, didn’t realize it was woman magic day.”

Izogie laughed a little as she turned her head to look at him. “Is that what you lot call it?”

“Less of a mouthful than whatever Alfyn says.”

Alfyn just sighed. “Estrogen production stimulation?”

Castys nodded. “Doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue. Anyway, Captain, just thought I’d let you know the sunrise is red this morning, and given the clouds now, we’re all pretty sure it’s gonna storm. And yes,” Castys held up a hand, “preparations are already underway. Just wanted you to be aware.”

Alfyn, finished with Izogie’s treatment, stepped back. “In that case, I have a few things to secure in the med bay. If you’ll excuse me, Captain.”

Izogie nodded as she buttoned her shirt. “Thank you, Alfyn, you’re excused.” He gave Castys a smile as he left. “Thank you as well, Castys.” She gave him a thoughtful look as she pulled her coat on and stood up. “You know, when you first arrived, I wasn’t sure if you were going to last here, but here you are, my first mate, of all things. You’ve grown quite a bit.”

Castys rolled his eyes and smiled, leaning against the doorframe. “Well, yeah, a scared tied up kid rarely looks like he’s gonna amount to anything. And it took you a few years to get that mouth off of me,” he laughed.

“You say that like it’s gone completely,” Izogie said with a glint in her eye, coming up to stand in front of Castys. Despite more than a decade passing, she still towered over Castys, the passage of time only showing in the lines on her face and the gray streaking her hair. He hadn’t grown any taller, but he’d at least gained some muscle and quite a few scars, which was well within the realm of expectation for being a pirate. “Well then, let’s go help out, Castys. This isn’t our first storm, and we need to make sure it won’t be our last.”

“I’d prefer to go down to a sea monster, at least. And I can’t imagine anything short of a hurricane taking you, Captain.”

“I’d like to see one try.” 

The storm that night certainly did.

The rain came down in sheets, driven to needlepoints by the harsh winds. It was more difficult than ever to hear the shouts of the crew as reports and orders were passed around, and Castys’s throat was raw from relaying directions to the men at the helm. He was glad for the storm sails, because even though they hadn’t had time to put all of them up, they were still making good progress through the crashing waves. At least, he hoped so. 

The ship’s bow pierced through another wall of water, and it was all Castys could do to stay on his feet, holding tight to the rope tied around his waist. Shit, one of the men at the helm had collapsed, and there was no one else to take his place. Castys ran up, grabbing the wheel alongside the others as he continued to keep an eye on the angle of the bow and the oncoming waves. It was fine, he could keep this up even as his arms burned from the strain, the hairs that had escaped from his ponytail blowing in his eyes and sticking to his face, making it even harder to see, the ever-louder thunder overhead drowning out the sound of his own voice. Didn’t matter if things were only getting worse, they had to keep-

CRACK

Everything was too loud, or maybe too quiet, roaring and buzzing, he was pressed up against the soaking wood of the deck and there was a ball of dense, sharp agony buried in his chest, making it hard to breathe, he kept coughing, couldn’t stand, couldn’t see, the blackness was coming, fading in and out, and all of a sudden he was belowdecks, blood and rain puddling around him, hands on his chest, pulling up his shirt, the words muffled, his chin moved up, Alfyn’s eyes were gray and full of fear, he hadn’t seen that expression before, or maybe he had, and maybe he was going to die, here, because of the storm, because he couldn’t breathe, time was up, that was it, those thirty-four years were over and done he wasn’t getting that time back no more tries he was satisfied with that right he had to be he couldn’t have any regrets because he wasn’t supposed to but it would have been nice if…if…

Castys woke up to a vast expanse of yellowish-white, which was not the color he expected the afterlife to be. Upon further inspection, though, it turned out that it was just a sheet over his head. After tossing it off and sitting up, he was greeted by a shrill scream that should have come from a young girl but actually came from Alfyn. 

“Chill, dude, you shouldn’t have put that over me if you’d healed me.” Castys narrowed his eyes a bit as he talked. Did his voice always sound like that? Maybe whatever injuries he’d had had damaged his hearing or something. He wasn’t in any pain now, though, so that was good.

“C-Castys you-you’re-how are you-” Alfyn ran over, nearly tackling Castys as he pulled up his tattered shirt to reveal a rather bloodstained but otherwise perfectly fine torso. Castys gave him a weird look, leaning away.

“Uh, you’re the one who fixed whatever it was, weren’t you?” He brushed his wet hair off of his face as he stared down at himself. Why the fuck did he grow his hair out, again? It was annoying as hell like this. 

Alfyn shook his head in disbelief. “I didn’t heal you, Castys. You-you were…both of your lungs had collapsed and I-I couldn’t fix it but-” He looked Castys in the eye, frowning. “You…you look different. Younger.” He ran a hand over Castys’s ribs, and Castys was very glad that he was more than used to the medic touching his bare skin. “There’s no scar from what just-” 

“Hey, what are you-” Castys yelped as Alfyn forced him to lean forward, pulling up his shirt even more to expose his back.

“You still had scars from your first day, didn’t you? When you were flogged?”

“Uh, I think so? I don’t really make it a hobby to look at my back, so you’d probably know better than me.” 

Alfyn sighed, letting go of Castys and standing up. “Well, if they were there before, they’re gone now. You…” He looked around at the patients lying on the cots on the other side of the room. “Do you feel alright, Castys?”

“I think so? I’m not in any pain or anything, but…I dunno, does my voice sound weird to you?” There were a few other things that were bothering him, but he couldn’t really get a solid hold on what they were. He just felt different, his thoughts more scattered, his arms less muscular than he remembered, the persistent ache in his left knee from a battle wound a few years ago completely gone now.

Alfyn nodded slowly. “Now that you mention it, it does seem a little…off.” He frowned again. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you, Castys, but I have more urgent patients to attend to, and I’m going to ask you to stay put until we can get this sorted out.”

“But the s-”

“Fine then, I’m not asking, I’m ordering. Doctor’s orders supersede everything else, you know that. And the storm has almost passed. So stay. Put.”

Castys grumbled and crossed his arms, but he didn’t move to get up. He knew all too well that Alfyn wasn’t above restraining disobedient patients, and he’d rather avoid that today. Bored, he peeked at his chest again. It was very bloody, but there were no injuries anywhere, and poking his ribs didn’t hurt like a bitch, so they weren’t broken or anything. What was weird though was that he still had some scars, just not all of them. The twisted one on his tummy and the clean line over his heart were still there. He slapped a hand on his right cheek and tried very hard to smile, finding that, yup, he still couldn’t really do it on that side, so the remnant of the gash on his face was still there. But the one on his knee, on his arm, and apparently the ones on his back…gone. It didn’t make sense. Unless…

He put a hand over his heart. Every scar he still had now, he’d gotten before…before that day. The day he still didn’t want to believe had happened. Just as he was about to dig up that lovely little box of buried memories, Captain Izogie rushed in, worry etched in her face. 

“Alfyn, is it true Castys is-” she laid eyes on Castys and the tension visibly drained from her body. “Oh thank Mydnar.” She walked over and crouched down in front of where he was seated on the floor, eyeing him suspiciously. “What…what did Alfyn do to you? You look like a kid again.”

“Not my fault!” Alfyn called from where he was working on someone’s fucked-up arm.

“Uh, yeah, I, um,” Castys laughed nervously. “It’s my fault. I think. But I’m okay! All the breathing is happening fine.”

Izogie shook her head. “You’re not making any sense. Laias said a broken piece of the mizzen top yard poked a hole through your chest.”

“It did,” Alfyn said, wiping his hands as he walked over. “Both of his lungs were punctured. I worked as quickly as I could after I pulled it out, but…” he swallowed. “Your pulse was gone, Castys.”

“But I…I’m fine. I’m…” He swallowed. Everything was so cold all of a sudden, that was the only reason he’d be shaking like this, right? Had to be. Unsure if he even wanted to know the answer to this question, Castys lifted his shirt, poking at the scar on his stomach. “Alfyn…what if a person was…was stabbed right here. And the knife was dragged and twisted a bit before being pulled out. And then it went,” his finger was over his heart now, “right here. Would that person…would they die?”

Alfyn looked at Castys in slight horror before slowly nodding. “Without medical attention, in a matter of minutes. Possibly less depending on how much the stomach wound had bled and how much damage had been done.”

Every worry line in Izogie’s face stood out more than ever before. “Castys, you-what are you saying? Are those scars-”

“I think so.” Castys dropped his shirt. “At least, from what I can remember. So maybe I…I already died. Before this. All this time I just thought I might be remembering things wrong, but if what Alfyn said about earlier is true, then…and it might explain why I’m…different.”

“So you think you’re some kind of…” the furrow in Alfyn’s brow deepened, “immortal?”

Immortal. The thought was sort of exciting, as ridiculous as it seemed, but it was also sort of terrifying. Why the fuck was he one, anyway, if it was true? He was just Castys, a random pirate with incurable amnesia about his childhood and hadn’t done anything special besides the whole…maybe this was some kind of fucked-up reward for finishing his mission? But then where had-fuck, okay, no more of that, his brain hurt too much. Why think about things when he could get some results?

“Hey, Captain, could you stab me or something? I wanna see what happens.”

Izogie, who was still clearly trying to process whatever the hell was going on, gave him a very concerned look. “No, Castys, what-even if you think you’ll-you’ll come back what if-”

“Well, I should have died twice now. So I feel like I’ve already gotten a second chance if I was going to be dead anyway.” He glanced over at Alfyn. “Could you-”

“I’m a fucking doctor, Castys. My hands aren’t-I can’t. No.” The other pirates cursed pretty much every other word, but coming from Alfyn, that word might as well have been a cannon blast. Seeing that neither of his friends were willing to stab him for science, Castys dropped the idea and let them examine him for a bit before finally getting cleared to go back to his quarters. The crew gave him odd looks as he passed by, just hammering it in even more that he was different somehow. Either that or they’d heard he fucking died and was now walking around perfectly healthy, which was also probably cause for concern.

Once he was alone, he pulled out his sword and looked at his reflection in the blade. From what he could tell in this shitty makeshift mirror, his face did look a lot more youthful than he remembered. The scruff on his chin and his longer hair did make him look a bit older than the age he supposed his body was now, but the beard was itchy and long hair was a pain in the ass. Part of him wanted to hack his ponytail off right now with his knife, but he’d rather not look like a total mess on top of everything else, so he could wait to ask for a haircut tomorrow. He could shave, however, and he felt a lot better once it was done. 

Turning the razor over in his hands, Castys wondered if he really would come back to life again if he slit his throat or whatever. Well, only one way to find out. His clothes were already super bloody, anyway, so that wouldn’t be a problem. Here goes nothing, then.

Why were his hands shaking so much? It was just dying, he’d apparently done it before, it was fine, he’d come back, he wasn’t leaving anyone behind, just a quick swipe of the blade and then…then…he’d come back, right? Right. A-and if he didn’t, he’d already cheated death before, so it was only fair for things to end now. Deep breath maybe his last-

The blade moved a little more slowly than he would have liked, a flash of pain before-

Castys opened his eyes. He was still in his cabin, lying on the floor, razor still gripped in his hand, fresh blood warm and sticky on his neck. S-so then…he’d died. And come back. And wasn’t in any pain. 

Some sick fascination drove him to slice a deep gash in his arm before turning the blade on his neck again.

He woke up just as healthy as before, no cut in sight.

That settled it, then. Castys…he was immortal. A deep feeling of freedom unlike anything he’d ever known washed over him. He could do anything, go anywhere, not having to worry about wasting his time or being in danger, because fuck that he was immortal nothing would ever stop him again. 

Lying in a puddle of his own blood, Castys couldn’t help but laugh.

He got slapped and lectured the next day for testing things out on himself, sure, but it was nothing in the face of his infinite future. He could go on with everyone forever and e-

Kamon left. 

Alfyn died. 

Izogie retired.

And then, one day, Castys was standing on the deck of the ship, his ship, and he realized he didn’t recognize a single face looking back at him. Well, he recognized them, but he didn’t know them, didn’t remember any of them from his life before the years felt like minutes. There was a divide between them, and he wasn’t sure who put it there.

Immortality was…lonely. Isolating. 

Someone else like him had to be out there, right? So he’d look all over, chase down every lead, even an immortal monster or something would do, he just needed-

Castys felt as alone as he was all those years ago, trapped on that deserted island, the passage of time impossible to follow. 

But no matter what, he’d find that ship on the horizon. 

Castys Cult: @as-a-matter-of-whump​ @blackrosesandwhump​ @fanmanga1357-blog​​ @thehopelessopus​ @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi​ @hearse-song​ @muddy-swamp-bitch @whumpasaurus101 @yet-another-heathen​​ @galaxywhump​ @starnight-whump​ @his-unspoken-words​ @misspelledwitch @suspicious-whumping-egg​ @pumpkin-spice-whump​ @painsandconfusion @i-can-even-burn-salad​​ @befuddled-calico-whump​ @whumpinggrounds @whump-queen​ @whumpedydump @theelvishcowgirl​