#she's a little shipwreck

[heatherfield]

Kissing in the Rain, Episode 5 “David & Susan” [x]

[sircesimblr]

"So aren't you brave, Bea! Bravey-brave-Bea! Aren't you the bravest and smartest cattycat in the whole wide world! You escapey-caped! Shall we tell the Captain we were right, Bravey-Bea? That I was right, all along? Shall we reprimand the Captain? For wanting to put you in a cage on the cargo deck, with the other beasts? Real beasts! You? An exceptional cattycat like you? And how would you have escaped, tell him, cattycat, if you hadn't been on my bed, in my quarters? No, we shall demand it! We shall make the Captain admit he was at fault. Severely at fault! Didn't we proof it, cattycat, Bravey-Bea?"

prev < | ◦ beginning

[jaynaneeya]

Mary Kate Wiles as Kat Van Tassel in Headless: A Sleepy Hollow Story Episode 2: The Ghosts in the Graveyard

[thesarahshay]

A Dorothy Sayers Primer

I initially wrote this for any Shipwrecked fans who loved Honeymoon Homicide and are now curious about Dorothy L. Sayers (the author Sinead named Tracey's fictional detective after) or Busman's Honeymoon (the Sayers novel that the script was inspired by), but it works for anyone who's curious about the Lord Peter Wimsey series! Here's some info to get you started.

For Shipwrecked fans: Busman's Honeymoon is the final book Sayers wrote in the Lord Peter Wimsey series, so unfortunately you can't start there (trust me, it'd be like watching the musical episode of Buffy first). Lucky for you, the whole series is delightful!

The elevator pitch: Lord Peter Wimsey, a wealthy and amusing English aristocrat, solves murders in 1920s and '30s London with his friend Chief Inspector Parker of Scotland Yard and his faithful valet Bunter. Why you should read it: Highlights of the series include Lord Peter's nonstop literary references (guy was basically an old-timey meme factory) and the fact that, more often than not, the books are about some bigger concept in addition to having a nice tricky mystery to solve. Topics Sayers tackled include everything from the place of women in society to the way countries fail their veterans.

There are three possible ways to read them, depending on your preference.

Read the series in chronological order. The best way, IMO! The first book is Whose Body and it's delightful, but I have heard some people say they found the earlier books harder to get into until after they had read the Harriet books, hence method #2. Admittedly, she develops Peter's character a lot over the course of the series, so the Peter we initially meet has a lot of growing to do.

Read the Harriet Vane books first. About a third of the way through the series, Lord Peter meets a mystery novelist named Harriet Vane, and their relationship is covered over four of the seven books that follow: Strong Poison (book 5), Have His Carcase (book 7), Gaudy Night (book 10), and Busman's Honeymoon (book 11). It is entirely possible to read just these four and feel you've gotten a complete arc.

Read the first book, and if you're not entirely sold, skip ahead to Strong Poison. I was talked into method #2 so I can't knock it, but I usually recommend #3 for people who aren't totally sold on the premise. At least give Whose Body a try, but if you're not feeling it and/or just want to get to the relationship stuff, read the Harriet books and then go back and fill in the gaps as you like.

There you go, more information than you possibly could have wanted! Now you can choose your method and get over to your local library to get started (btw, If you plan to go the audiobook route, I recommend seeking out the versions read by Ian Carmichael). EXTRA INFORMATION (aka I'm sorry I'm like this)

Content warning: It's the 1920s, so there's gonna be some racism, classism, fatphobia, and sexism. But if you've read Agatha Christie, this is mild by comparison. There are a few slurs and references to stereotypes, but when Sayers writes an actual minority character they're complex, sympathetic human beings. For my fellow Jews, be warned that the victim in Whose Body is Jewish, but it's not a hate crime and the Jewish characters are all cool.

Other works by Sayers: This primer is focused on the Wimsey books because they were her main writing output, and everything else she did kind of requires a caveat or is in a very different vein: she wrote some plays and nonfiction, primarily about Christianity, and a translation of Dante's The Divine Comedy which I understand is very well regarded. Her only other novels were all co-written with other authors, and in my opinion don't feel particularly Sayersesque. If you read all the Wimsey books and collections and want more, The Documents in the Case is decent. I haven't read most of the rest: I am a fan, not an expert!

A full list of the novels and short story collections in order (because I'm a completist, sorry not sorry):

Whose Body (1923) Clouds of Witness (1926) Unnatural Death (1927) * Lord Peter Views the Body (1928) [collection] The Unpleasantness at the Bellona Club (1928) Strong Poison (1930) Five Red Herrings (1931) Have His Carcase (1932) Murder Must Advertise (1933) * Hangman's Holiday (1933) [collection] The Nine Tailors (1934) Gaudy Night (1935) Busman's Honeymoon (1937) * In the Teeth of the Evidence (1939) [collection] Posthumous: Lord Peter (1972) [collection of all* Lord Peter short stories] Striding Folly (1973) [collection of three stories, including one never before published (later editions of Lord Peter included this 'new' story)] Thrones, Dominations (1998) [novel by Jill Paton-Walsh**, using an incomplete manuscript Sayers started for a twelfth Lord Peter book; questionably canon, but worth reading] The Complete Stories (2002) [collection of all Sayers' short stories]

*The collections are listed in publication order, but the stories therein happen at different periods of Peter's life and can be read any time.

**Paton-Walsh wrote three more Wimsey novels after completing Thrones, Dominations, but they should be viewed purely as fanfic (I personally do not care for them).

[johntorrington]

in grade eleven i took a marine ecology course as my science credit mostly because it seemed easy but also because they told us there was a field trip where you got to go on a boat, like a cool marine science boat that they use to map the seafloor and stuff like that. i had a fun time in the class and got to draw clams for a grade but unfortunately because of covid we didn’t get to do the big boat trip.

i think i was fated to die on that boat or something because i have no other explanation for my recent obsession with the franklin expedition other than a final destination type psychological driving force to Get Back Out There And Die At Sea

[lighthouseborn]

𝐚𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬: 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. repost. don't reblog. bold what applies. italicize what sometimes applies.

scraped knees, silent tears in a locked room, slamming doors, pervasive loneliness, a dog barking, rain on a metal roof, flinching at movement, the creak of an old house, forced laughter, wandering in the dark woods, wondering how you made it through, sudden loss, trying to make sense of the noise, hiding what you love to protect it, trying to explain but your words falter, invaded privacy, confusion at the pain, running barefoot in the grass, wondering what you did wrong and coming up with nothing, realizing you aren’t a priority, grass stains on white clothing, trying to earn love you will never have, being threatened over the smallest mistake, secrets you are warned not to share, the feeling of never being good enough, the hope things might someday get better, grief that aches in your bones, childish dares and pranks, the sense that your body isn’t yours, shame and guilt that aren’t yours to carry, sledding down a frozen hill, absentmindedly following snakes through the grass, punching a tree until your knuckles bleed, tears over every dead creature you find, searching out small places you can hide… just in case, climbing the tallest tree so they can’t touch you, the feeling of something tainted under your skin, a curious child told to stop asking, floral dresses, body tensing at approaching footsteps, anger with nowhere to go, brief escapes from the chaos, the purr of a contented cat, taking the blame to keep the peace, being told you’re too sensitive, the creaking springs of a trampoline on a sunny day

[crayonurchin]

I took a semi break from some OG characters cuz DND took over my life

But in hindsight JESUS CHRIST Pisca is a fucked up character and I would be betraying myself to not do something with her story

[razzle-zazzle]

Whumptober Day 17: Nowhere Else to Go

Shipwrecked (kind of) + "We had a good run"

2265 Words; Pearl & Seaglass

TW for brief implied nonsexual nudity

AO3 ver

Heat bore down against his face, uncomfortable and unfamiliar.

Raz shifted. His scales felt weird, and there was sand against his back—but it didn’t feel right. He couldn’t feel his fins, either, and when he tried to move his tail—

Raz’ eyes snapped open with a speed that could rival a frogfish. Bright sunlight assaulted his eyes, making him wince and close them again, blinking rapidly as he tried to get his arms under him.

Slowly, his vision returned, and he found himself—the word humans used was sitting, wasn’t it? Raz glanced down—yes! In place of his tail were two gangly, scaleless legs.

“It wasn’t a dream!” Ohhhhh, okay, that was weird, talking without flashing his stripes. “Ohh. Ahh. Ouwaeghhhhh.” The sounds vibrated weirdly in his throat, different from the clicks and whistles he was used to. Cool!

Raz reached up—okay, yeah, his helmet was still there. His bag was at his side, but that was it—which Raz was pretty sure was less than humans tended to wear. He needed to fit in, to be so super stealthy if he wanted to return to the ocean safely in… Gisu had said seven days, right? So Raz had seven whole days to poke around, which meant he couldn’t mess it up!

Raz looked around the beach. There was a cliff face sheltering it, and in the shadow of the rock was an old, heavy-looking chest, half-hidden under dried kelp. Raz got up fully, the sand warm beneath his feet, and moved to start walking—

He stumbled, arms windmilling as he tumbled forwards. He spat out sand, pushed himself up, and tried again. One foot in front of the other, he was pretty sure—

“Yes!” Raz was walking! Like a human! He whooped, surprised by the sudden sound, then pushed forward, the sand shifting under him. He tilted, almost fell, and then spun around until he was dizzy. This was real! He was a human!

Eventually, Raz made his way over to the chest. He swept the kelp away, prying it open. A bunch of fabric sat inside, smelling slightly musty, slightly salty. Clothes, he presumed.

“Bingo.” Raz fiddled around, picking through the clothes until he was wearing what he was pretty sure was normal human wear. He’d seen some woodcarvings before they rotted, and the rare metal engraving if it wasn’t rusted, so he had a pretty good idea of what went where, even if he wasn’t sure as to the exact names of things. But his torso and legs were covered, and he was pulling his feet into what he thought were called shoes. There was a bit of sand grating against his skin inside his clothes, but Raz did his best to shake the feeling off—there was no way he wasn’t gonna get sand where he didn’t want it. So he pulled his goggles down instead, the world shifting to warmer hues through the lenses. Now he was a proper explorer, just like the Explorer Corps!

Raz bounced in place. If he still had fins, they’d be fluttering, and he’d be swimming loops. But he wasn’t in the water, and he didn’t have fins, because he had become human and made it onto land.

There was a small path up the cliff, hard to catch from up above. Raz dashed for it, excitement filling his chest. He was so ready for this, he was going to learn so much—

He couldn’t wait to be where the people were.

+=+=+=+=+

The human city was crowded.

Raz supposed it made sense; it looked like they could only build their dwellings up so high, and all of the people were groundbound, unable to just swim over or under each other. Raz’ small size put him at something of a disadvantage; he kept getting bumped into and pushed around in the crowd, and couldn’t see over any of the much bigger humans. It was loud, crowded, hot, and a little smelly thanks to all the humans crammed together in the same space all buying and selling, and Raz was glad he had his helmet and goggles on because otherwise all the noise and motion might make him combust—

In short, it was awesome.

They were all talking, too, and Raz could understand what they were saying—except for where the voices all meshed together into an aural paste. How did he understa—oh it was probably magic, wasn’t it. Neat!

Raz still couldn’t quite believe it—surely, any moment now, he would wake up in his room to realize it had all been a dream—

“Young man!” A hand grabbed at Raz’ arm, whirling him around. A lady with her hair tied up tight and glass in front of her eyes was glaring down at him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Uh.” Raz tried to pull his arm away, but her grip didn’t budge. “Exploring?”

The lady huffed. “Skipping school, are we?” She stood, taking Raz’ wrist up with her, and started walking.

“What—” Raz dug his heels into the ground, but he was benign swept up by her anyway.

“No wonder things are going to hell,” She was saying, “Kids running about in the street instead of going to school!” She shook her head, dragging Raz away from the market—

“Let go!” Raz yanked his arm free, stumbling back. The lady whirled around, but Raz was already stumble-dashing away, struggling not to trip over his own feet. His boots being slightly oversized didn’t help, but he kept going going going—

The lady shouted somewhere behind him, and Raz jumped onto a box set next to a wall of wood. He jumped, grabbing at the top of the wall, struggling to haul himself up—why did everything have to be so much heavier out of the water? Footsteps pounded the stone behind him as he got his body over the top—shit, what was he going to land on on the other side?

Too late! Raz flung himself over the edge, hitting the crate below hard. Whatever was in the crate broke underneath him with several cracking sounds, yellow slime leaking out and staining Raz’ clothes. It kind of reminded him of eggs, but way smaller than mer eggs, and with harder shells than Raz had ever seen.

Raz groaned, rolling off the maybe-eggs. He rubbed at the fabric on his legs, but that only served to get the goop on his hands, ewww—

“Hey!” Raz looked up to see another human staring him down angrily, leaning in an opening in the stone wall of their dwelling. “You better pay for those—”

Whatever else they were saying was lost to the wind as Raz ran.

+=+=+=+=+

Raz breathed hard, his chest heaving. Which was weird, his gills didn’t work like that at all; did humans have to deal with this all the time?

He was leaning against a wooden wall, a ways away from where he had started. The stone path he was on was wide, bordering the sea to one side, with a series of wooden platforms extending out to the sea a ways down the stone path. It was too smooth to be a natural cliff, Raz felt—humans must have cut it up to look like this. Probably. There was a stone basin full of water to Raz’ side, and he had pushed his goggles up to see more clearly.

The burn in his legs was… well, it was unfamiliar, because Raz had never had legs before, but it was just like any other burn in his muscles otherwise. And while the running itself was different from swimming, Raz was no stranger to having to flee bigger, stronger adults he had pissed off; it seemed that was something the ocean and the land had in common. And even in the ocean, being an Aquato could only get him so far—

But he wouldn’t have any of that status here, did he? He was just a kid nobody knew, which was half the reason he came up here in the first place.

(The other being that humans were just cool.)

But that wasn’t an advantage, was it? Raz had no safety net up here, nobody to look out for him. No older siblings to come and flash their fins at whatever giant octopus he had managed to piss off now, then complain for hours about Raz’ recklessness.

That… hm. Raz had sort of vaguely known this would be dangerous—explorers had to go into danger to confront the unknown!—but he hadn’t really thought about how dangerous.

“Hey, kid.” Raz looked up at the third voice to address him in the same day, not sure how he’d find the energy but ready to run—

Oh.

Oh.

Raz’ knees wobbled, which he did not like—and his chest did a funny little lurch that he didn’t know how to explain. If he had fins, they might have fluttered—it wasn’t like Raz had ever

A girl about his height stood before him, red hair pulled back into two dangling tails. Raz didn’t exactly know how to describe it, just that something about her was really wow.

Raz became acutely aware that he was still covered in maybe-egg slime. His face heated up as he took in her clothes, brightly colored layers of fabric that fit her in a way that Raz’ own borrowed clothes didn’t. And the way she held herself carried with it a strong confidence, a sharp familiarity with her body that Raz didn’t have. In mer logic, that made her dangerous. By all rights, Raz should be wary—and he was!

But he also very much did not want to run away.

“What’s wrong with you?” She asked, and Raz was suddenly hyperaware of the way he was leaning against the wall, breath caught in his throat. “You look like a mess.” Her nose wrinkled, one end of her mouth pulling back in a frown—

“What’s wrong with you?” Raz shot back before his brain caught up with his mouth. “You look like an anemone that’s trying too hard.” He wanted to bite her twintails, and he didn’t know why.

Her eyes widened, then narrowed. “Bold words from the weirdo covered in eggs.” She stepped back. “You smell.”

Raz sniffed. He did smell like eggs, and a bit like salt. He couldn’t smell anything else, though. He huffed, looking her up and down again. “You don’t look so tough.” Oh, for the love of the abyss, what was he even saying? When was he going to learn how to stop picking fights he couldn’t win?

Her lip curled, and she glared at him. “Oh, I’ll show you tough.” She threatened, and then she was grabbing Raz’ hand and yanking him forwards as he yelped—

Splash! went the water in the basin as Raz was shoved into it. He sputtered, flailing to get his limbs under him and sit up, memories of being unable to breathe beneath the waves making his chest surge with panic.

The girl was laughing, hand over her mouth. “You look ridiculous!” She proclaimed, and Raz’ stomach did a weird twisty thing.

“Oh, I’ll show you ridiculous—” and then she was falling into the water with him as he pulled her in, yelling as she splashed and her dress got soaked. She kicked him, and Raz shoved back, and the two of them started shoving and pushing and yelling until they had knocked themselves out of the basin entirely, dripping water onto the stones beneath them as they rolled.

Raz acked as her fist hit his chest, and he grabbed at her twintails. She yelled, kicked between his legs—which hurt, ow ow ow—and Raz found himself shoved to the ground as her blunt human claws dug into his shoulder where the fabric of his clothes had fallen loose.

He shoved her off, sitting up and scooting back—and she was yelling but it sounded a lot like her earlier laughter, and Raz was laughing himself—

She had really pretty eyes.

“Now we’re both ridiculous!” Raz declared, victorious. One of her twintails had come loose, water dripping from her soaked clothes.

She laughed, bright and loud. Raz’ stomach did that twisty thing again, his chest lurching. After a moment she stood, holding out her hand. Raz stared at it, not sure what she wanted—

“Just grab it, idiot.” She instructed, so Raz did. She pulled, and Raz slowly stood. Ohhhh.

(Humans were so weird, in all the best ways.)

“I’m Lili.” She introduced herself. “You?”

“Razputin, but my friends call me Raz.” Raz said.

Lili snorted, and the sound made Raz’ chest do that funny little lurch again. “What are you even doing covered in eggs, anyway?” She asked.

Raz thought back to that lady that had tried to drag him off to places unknown. “Uh… not skipping ‘school’?” He tried, not sure how convincing it was. “Exploring, mostly.” He added.

Lili looked him up and down for a long moment. “You remind me of my uncle Helmut.” She decided, still holding Raz’ hand. After another moment, she nodded, clearly having made up her mind about something. “Right, you’re coming with me.” She said, holding Raz’ hand and starting to walk away.

“Wait—” But Lili wasn’t waiting, and Raz had no choice but to get swept up in her grasp as she ran along. And yet, he wasn’t quite bothered—Raz didn’t know why, but he really wanted to follow her, wherever she led.

Everything on the surface was so much more confusing than Raz was expecting.

But maybe, as he watched Lili’s twintails bounce behind her as she ran, that wasn’t a bad thing.

[heatherfield]

#bromtilda lbr #they’re in SYNC (via @musicalsandfluff​)

Headless lines that make me laugh every single time 2/???

[p0orbaby]

Little fic where is alexia dating an English player who finds it difficult how affectionate Spanish people are with each other. Alexia having to reassure her that it’s a Spanish thing and she’ll try to be less touchy etc.

-

You’re not sure when exactly it starts to get on your nerves, but by the time you notice, you’re on a sun-bleached terrace in Barcelona, watching Alexia kiss three people hello in under five minutes. It's an odd thing to obsess over, and yet here you are, eyes narrowed as you sip on an overpriced cortado that tastes like dust and regret. You’re not jealous. Of course not. That would be absurd. You’re simply... perplexed by the excessive touching, the relentless stream of hugs, kisses, and arm squeezes that seem to form the bedrock of Spanish existence. Everyone’s always touching someone.

In England, a handshake is intimate enough, and in London, where you’re from, if anyone dared speak before your tea even cooled, you’d probably alert the authorities. But here? It's practically a greeting card in motion. You’ve seen grown men embrace in the street like they’ve just survived a shipwreck. It's baffling.

Alexia sits down across from you, smiling in that way that makes you feel foolish for being annoyed by anything. She’s impossibly beautiful, and the knowledge of that fact gnaws at you constantly. She’s all golden skin and nonchalance, legs casually crossed, one hand fiddling with her sunglasses as if she’s in some sort of commercial for ‘cool.’

“Are you okay?” she asks, her accent making every word sound softer than it should be, like it's wrapped in velvet. She’s genuinely concerned, or she’s pretending really well. You can’t tell which.

“Yeah,” you say. “Fine”

And then, because you’re not actually fine: “Do you have to kiss everyone?”

She looks at you like you’ve just asked if the sky is blue. “It’s how we greet people here”

“I know that,” you say, setting your cup down with more force than necessary. “But does it have to be every time? You’ve kissed three strangers today already, and it’s not even noon”

Alexia blinks at you, then laughs. “It’s just being polite”

Polite? You're thinking. In England, you say "hi" and move on with your day. No one has to swap saliva to prove they like you. But this? This is something else.

“Well, it’s... it’s excessive.” You try to explain, gesturing vaguely in the air like you can catch the sheer madness of it all. “People just... touch all the time. And I’m not used to it”

Alexia’s mouth twitches, trying to suppress a smile. “We’re just more affectionate”

“Affectionate?” you say. “It’s like a plague of hand-holding and cheek-kissing”

She finally lets out a laugh, full-bodied, the kind that makes her eyes crinkle. “You sound like an old lady”

“Maybe I am,” you mutter, trying to keep a straight face. “Maybe England has made me emotionally unavailable”

Alexia reaches out to touch your arm, then stops, hesitating, her hand hovering mid-air like she’s not sure if it’ll set you off again. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, no,” you sigh, waving her hand toward you, now feeling like the crazy one. “It’s fine. Just... give me a heads-up before the next 12-person cuddle fest”

She grins, leaning back. “I can try”

You shake your head, biting back a smile. “You’re so annoying”

“And you love it

You do. And you hate that you do, which is probably the worst part of all this. She knows you’re wound too tight for your own good, and she’s infinitely more relaxed about everything, like the world bends to her will instead of the other way around.

You finish your cortado, now cold. “You realise you kissed the barista on the way in, right?”

Alexia nods, grinning wickedly. “She made my coffee right”

You groan, but you’re laughing, which only encourages her. “I’m never letting you set foot in the UK again”

“That’s fine,” she says, leaning in, all confidence. “Spain suits you better anyway. You just don’t know it yet”

[heatherfield]

@giftober 2024 | Day 4: slow motion

Matilda? What are you waiting for?! Start the incantation!!

Headless: A Sleepy Hollow Story, Episode 10 “The Haunting of the Hollow” [x]

[river-of-wine]

I know I’ve mentioned this plenty of times before but I’m still kind of annoyed by how the fanbase just kind of completely declawed the four lords and placed the entirety of the responsibility for their wrongdoings on Mother Miranda.

The Baker family are great, I love them, they’re an incredible unit of antagonists who are intended to be very sympathetic, at least for the most part. Jack and Marguerite in particular have lost all control over their minds and their bodies, turning into extremely violent murderers and cannibals who threaten and attack their own family, kill anyone unfortunate enough to come across them and, especially in Marguerite’s case, lose complete autonomy over their own bodies. Marguerite turns into a walking bug hive who’s only purpose is to feed her family and birth her new children. Jack is an unstoppable murderous force of patriarchal violence who has so much fun chasing down and harming his victims, which in the Daughters DLC includes even his own daughter. The exception to this is obviously Lucas, who has been cured of his infection and his acting of his own free will. All of this is caused by Eveline, everything Jack and Marguerite do controlled by her, and yet Eveline is just as sympathetic as the rest of them. She’s a ten year old girl. Even Jack, who has watched his family and their victims suffer because of her infection, doesn’t seem to hold any of it against her. She just wants a family of her own, after all. It’s a complex and tragic situation.

The four lords, while I suppose being similar in structure, are not the Baker family. Not in dynamic, not in character, not in the kind of tragedy that they embody. I could talk for a while about just how completely different they are, but I don’t know if I really need to.

The Baker family are so tragic because they were just innocent bystanders trying to help a woman and a little girl they found in a shipwreck out in a storm. That’s the only reason they ended up in the situation that they were in. While the lords have similar origins, being victims of Mother Miranda’s experiments to bring her daughter Eva back, an important distinction between them is that in the case of the lords, all four of them are still acting of their own free will. Yes, Mother Miranda has undeniable power over them. She leads the cult they are part of, she has control over the village, she is their superior. However, I really dislike when every negative action by the lords is pushed onto her, as if the lords are not all grown adults who are for the most part acting independently of her.

With Alcina, she is the head of her own extremely brutal crimes. I think a lot of people have forgotten quite how horrifying the situations of the maidens are, possibly due to the prevalence shipping between Alcina and the maidens, and though we have minimal information what we do know is very frightening. Alcina uses her work force like livestock, draining them for their blood in a cellar full of horrific torture devices, and leaves their corpses to shamble around, armed and ready to attack any unwanted guests that have slipped out of the daughter’s clutches so that Alcina still doesn’t have to do her own dirty work, given how highly above everyone but Mother Miranda she appears to view herself as. While yes, Alcina does need human blood to survive, her methods are brutal, and none of this has been enforced upon her by Mother Miranda. Similarly to Jack on occasion, she takes a great deal of pleasure in hurting and attacking Ethan as he runs from her. Additionally, everything she does to Ethan is against Mother Miranda’s request. While yes, it is retaliation after he killed Bela, the part I often see people leave out is that Alcina is equally as upset that he entered her property and was attempting to steal from her, and she isn’t just after him to kill him.

Alcina has also been an active participant in aiding Mother Miranda with at least one experiment, considering that I’d how she got her daughters. While I’m sure her strong admiration for Mother Miranda and Mother Miranda’s power over her has absolutely had an affect in this, that’s not something I’ll deny, Alcina is still a grown woman and in her written entries about this shows no qualms about her participation in this. Her general attitude towards others, using young women as a good source and turning men into scarecrows, also leads me to believe that she does not exactly care who gets hurt or taken advantage of when it comes to her and Mother Miranda’s personal endeavours.

Donna and Moreau are the two more sympathetic people within the four lords, but they are not innocent. To start with Moreau, he’s desperate for Mother Miranda’s approval, as well as the other lords. He’s insecure and lonely, and he’s doing what he has been instructed by Mother Miranda when it comes to protecting the flask. However, he does also take quite a bit of joy in trapping Ethan in the reservoir and swimming after him with the intention to eat and kill him. Moreau though, given his conditions and circumstances, is the one I think is the least to blame for what he does.

Donna is hard to discuss because we know so little about her. Her parents are dead, as well as whoever Claudia was to her, she communicates through Angie and she can cause those who enter her house to hallucinate. According to Mother Miranda, Donna is severely mentally ill and that is what has made her an unfit vessel. I think a lot of people took this to mean that Donna is unaware of what she is doing, that the hallucinations she is showing Ethan are frightening, but after having been a fan of this game for years I just can’t agree with that anymore. Donna intentionally lures Ethan into her house with visions of his supposedly dead wife. Donna is going after fears she likely knows Ethan has, making him relive Mia’s death, take apart a mannequin of her, listen to her voice panic over something being horribly wrong with Rose, all building towards the horrifying baby that chases him through the house. There is no way Donna doesn’t understand how what she is showing Ethan is distressing, especially when you consider that, given how she can make herself appear and disappear at will within Ethan’s vision and that Angie is sitting in the hallways stationary and unspeaking, Donna was likely close by Ethan at all times and could see and hear his frightened reactions to what she was intentionally showing him.

Donna’s death is upsetting, but Ethan was not just chasing her down and killing her. Donna was attacking him, or at least she was controlling her dolls to do so. It’s still a hallucination, but Ethan doesn’t know that. When faced with a threat that is keeping you trapped and trying to end your life, you will likely try to get away or try to fight back, as Donna is doing to Ethan after he starts to attack her and Ethan is doing to Donna when he thinks his life is still in danger. I would also like to remind everybody that Donna communicates through Angie. What Angie is saying, that’s Donna. Angie doesn’t talk or move once she’s dead, it is Donna who controls her.

Lastly, Heisenberg. I think Heisenberg is the one of the four most entrenched in headcanons. Headcanons are fine, I am never in this post trying to suggest they aren’t, but my issue comes in when people use them to try and change the canon of the game. For example, it’s fine to believe that Heisenberg was experimented on by Mother Miranda as a child, but that isn’t canon. It’s fine to believe that Heisenberg mourned the deaths of his siblings, but that isn’t canon. The opposite is, with Heisenberg not viewing the cult as an actual family and being very openly mean to all three other lords, even Donna and Moreau who seemingly haven’t done anything to slight him. While his goal of killing another Miranda is a very understandable and sympathetic one given what she has done to him, using a six month old baby as a weapon and trying to bring her father into the mix only to try to get him killed when he denies him is not. I cannot overstate quite how little Heisenberg actually cared for Ethan and Rose’s safety when it came to his goal, and given that we are playing as Ethan, Rose is the priority.

Heisenberg has built an army of corpses he has presumably stolen and desecrated. This is kind of fucked up actually, and done completely independently of Mother Miranda. He also puts Ethan through a very dangerous lycan gauntlet before he even reaches the factory, which makes it even stranger to me that people seem to interpret Heisenberg’s deal as something that would have benefitted both him and Ethan and as if he ever had Ethan’s safety in mind.

All four of the lords have tragic aspects to them and there are definitely reasons to sympathise with all four. They’re victims of Mother Miranda, who knows they will all be killed. She wants them to be, giving her less to deal with by the time she has Eva back. They never meant anything to her. Not Alcina or Moreau, who were desperate for her attention. Not Donna, suffering from her unspecified but apparently severe mental illness. Not Heisenberg, who was seemingly her favourite creation. However, all of them are grown adults who do their own bad things independently of her.

And it’s fine to still like them. It’s fine for them to be your favourite character. It’s fine to have happy or nice headcanons about them or want to kiss them or be their friend or to want them to have survived. It’s fine to like characters who do shitty things. It’s to be expected in a game series like Resident Evil. It’s a horror game series. People are going to do bad things.

I just find it so boring when people take away all their bite. What makes a character like Lady Dimitrescu so fun it’s that she’s completely over the top. She’s campy and ridiculous, her castle layout makes no sense, she’s got three kids made of swarms of flies dressed like a set of goth triplets, she’s a lesbian who’s castle is full of naked statues of women, she turns into a big dragon and laughs maniacally while flying around and trying to eat you. She’s evil and it’s fun. It’s the same with Heisenberg. He’s a campy show off with a fun voice and a massive hammer he never actually uses. He can control metal. He looks like a cowboy. He pronounced Miranda in a funny way. He talks to you over an intercom while trying to get you killed. They’re fun and evil and they fight over who gets to kill Ethan like they’re two little kids. It’s absurd.

What makes a character like Donna so scary is that she’s silently working in the shadows, unassuming at a first glance and unseen for most of the time in her house. She is the least threatening of the four upon first glance, and yet she has undeniably the most frightening part of the game. Pretending as if Donna is completely unaware of what she is doing and babying her like she is an incapable child waters her down completely and takes away from the effectiveness of her character.

Villain characters are great! They’re very often the highlight of the story they are in, and they aren’t real! The four lords especially are often so completely exaggerated in what they do as well. It’s fine to like villains! It doesn’t make you bad! Characters can be bad people and you can still like them!

It’s just frustrating seeing a group of very fun and exciting villains, all designed with different aspects of horror, all over the top and campy and stupid and fun, all doing their own set of fucked up things, watered down to a set of poor innocent victims who have never done any wrong ever. If you want Jack and Marguerite, take Jack and Marguerite. Lady Dimitrescu loves killing and eating women and Karl Heisenberg turns corpses into soldiers. They’re bad people and they do comically exaggerated bad things. If you can’t stomach liking a character like that, horror is probably not the genre for you. Unless it’s Resident Evil 7, I suppose, but apparently tall women aren’t hot when it’s Marguerite Baker crawling on the walls.

[specshroom]

Here me out for mer stuff

Maybe human is shipwrecked and a mer (perhaps one that keeps treasures like an octopus) saving you and keeping you in a little underground cave with an airbubble until you get better but you both start getting closer... maybe they become obsessed with you

You're stuck in the cold and a seal person or penguin person offers their body heat to you since it's very insulating... and theres otherways for them to make you even warmer

Getting passed around a pod of dolphins and otters cause they're very sexual and otters hold onto you as you rest between round since they hold hands with partners

Electric eels/lungfish giving you little shocks as it coils around you.

A deep sea angler lady with a hynotizing glow that wants you to be a part of her with all the other men she's absorbed.

A jellyfish who's tentacles secrete aphrodisiacs instead

Urchins with a super soft underbelly!!

A clam trapping you in their shell or an anemone keeping you within it

Betta fish wrapping you in their fins

Also imagine perhaps a parasite or amoeba from the water entering and forming a symbiosis with you... you have a bf in your head that speaks with you and though he can't touch you he can make you feel things by messing with your brain and bodily functions

Tha k u for entertaining me

ANON YOU'RE A MIND READER! I WAS JUST THINKING OF DOING A MARINE HYBRID POST!

It was gonna be like an addition to the bird hybrid post but I was having major writers block and I couldn't think of fuckall.

BUT YOU! UR SO BIG BRAINED OMG.

My faves were the:

• Octopus hoarding reader like treasure 🥺

• The electric eel shocks! Yesss

• I fucking hate dolphins cus they scare me but Otters on the other hand are soooo cute. Passing you around and just snuggling you into their soft fur when u need a quick nap. Have you seen the videos of otters massaging each other? Yes exactly like that.

• ooooh I just know the angler fish and the jellyfish hybrids would be so scary and intimidating in such a sexy way, uknow? Like "Oooo am I gonna eat you or fuck you? Oooo let's find out"

• The amoeba boyfriend is very interesting 🤔 especially since u can't really break up lmao. How would u even have disagreements? Because he's basically you? I definitely want to revisit this idea.

[froody]

I went to the shelter today and met several cats. A beautiful 3 year old black kitty who had been surrendered for urinary issues, a very sweet very handsome 2 year old tabby man. They were both fantastic cats with fantastic personalities. I liked them both and was having a hard time deciding. Then they told me there was a very skittish 4 month old tortoiseshell kitten at the PetSmart.

I go there and she’s catatonically hiding in the corner. I get her out and she clings to me like a shipwreck survivor. I knew she was the one. The other cats were so sweet but she was utterly petrified being in that environment. Her nose was runny, her eyes were crusty, she was so scared her little body was like stone. I had to put her back to fill out the paperwork and when the employee grabbed her too roughly to try to take her out of the cage, she SHREDDED that woman.

I got in the car like alright, feral kitten. I’ll figure it out. She’ll come around.

She’s not feral. She’s a precious little angel. She started purring moments after I started petting her. She’s just a shy nervous girl who spend the past two months of her little life in a hell-ish overstimulating environment.

I don’t know about her early life. She’s been spayed, she’s up to date on her shots, she’s FIV negative. They gave her a course of antibiotics for the eye crust and runny nose but she’s still sneezy and crusty and wheezy. I’m betting it’s feline herpes, one of my childhood cats had feline herpes and she always got sneezy and crusty when she was stressed out. I’m going to give her a little period of adjustment and then get her set up with my vet and tested to make sure that’s the problem.

She’s currently hiding under my bed. I can hear her moving around periodically. I’m letting her adjust, decompress and get used to my presence. She will be a challenge. I look forward to loving and knowing her. I think what she needs is peace and quiet and I am like the most peaceful quiet owners a cat could possibly have. I don’t know what toys she’ll like, if she’ll be a candidate for leash training, what her favorite treats will be. We’ll have to get to know each other.

Her name was Holly because she was a December intake. I have tentatively named her Daphne, partially after the nymph and partially after Daphne du Maurier because of her mystique and strange glamor.

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

Floyd's Only Fear

(Tw: Blood, (mild) gore, sibling angst)

Survival of the fittest. It was all the twins had known since they were little elvers, that ruthlessness was the greatest mercy they could grant themselves. It meant no enemy was left to enact revenge, it meant, theoretically, there was no motive to be had against them.

In theory, it made sense. But real life has all sorts of factors you have to be aware of, and the ocean and it's inhabitants rarely act on logic.

Floyd remembers what Jade was like before they had to learn that lesson the hard way. He looks at his brother now and wonders if the roles had been reversed, if he'd have ended up the same way he did.

They couldn't have been more than five. They had made it back home, the only two surviving elvers of the clutch. He remembered how proud their mother was of the two of them, but their father was rather detached still. They were loud, playful and rambunctious, constantly causing mischief to those who had the (dis)pleasure of meeting them. The only difference between the two of them when they were that young was which side of their face their black strand of hair was, and the shape and colour of their eyes.

Their mother's way of parenting at the time had been very laissez-faire, he understood now, was her balance between becoming too attached to them while also looking after them, two very opposite sides of her mind at war. He didn't blame her for it, at least not now that he was older. She had given them an area she deemed relatively safe to play, as well as an old shipwreck, not far from home.

Most days, he and Jade were fine to play in and amongst the wreckage, practicing their hunting, chasing each other and finding hidey holes to try and scare each other with.

Floyd remembered, neither he nor his brother could stay very quiet at that time, as they'd get too excited and giggle about the new spot they found to hide and wanted to show it to their other half. Even if they tried to stay quiet, usually they were the biggest creatures there, and the wiggles of trying to get deeper into their hiding place would cause disturbances in the water that made their twin find them.

Which was why the day Jade went silent, was the day Floyd learned what fear truly was.

His nightmare always started the same, a memory. He and Jade were excited as always to go play in the shipwreck. The sun was just starting to set, the light filtering through the water dappled red and orange - according to the humans, it was supposed to be a lovely day tomorrow.

Neither of them liked counting. It took away the surprise if you knew when someone was going to come looking for you. Not just that, but they were fast and honestly, waiting around was boring for both of them. Jade was a little smaller than Floyd, so Floyd would give him a five second head start, where Jade would give Floyd a three second head start.

Those five seconds always got Floyd excited, ready to hunt down his brother, tag him and then they could switch. He listened as Jade giggled, disappearing into the shipwreck they knew and loved.

Floyd wouldn't call it cheating, it was just a strategic means to an end if he peeked between his fingers. He knew exactly which way Jade went in, darting over to the hole in the hull of the ship, but freezing as he got to the opening.

The darkness felt...heavier than usual, and at first, Floyd couldn't place why. He felt his entire body go still for the first time in his life, the only thing moving was his hair in the gentle ebb and flow of the water. He could feel something watching him, something farther into the hole. He didn't know what it was. But he knew with certainty it wasn't Jade.

It felt like ages until it finally clicked to him that he couldn't feel Jade's movement, instead, at large intervals he felt water moving from side to side by something bigger than even their parents.

He felt a pit forming in his stomach the longer he looked into the hole. In his nightmares it felt like hours of just staring into the abyss, human clutter in the corners of his vision, but his eyes locked on something else much deeper. In reality, he knew mere seconds had passed. The smell of Jade's blood filling the water and the low growl that emanated from within the hole rattled Floyd to his core, his fear still locking him in place as he just tried to keep breathing properly. As his eyes finally adjusted to just how dark it was, he could see his brother's eyes bulging from the pressure the other mer was putting on his neck, the mers claws digging into his neck while his other hand had torn him open. The mer was licking his fingers clean, seemingly proud of himself before he would lunge at Floyd, and he would wake up.

He had blocked out most of what happened after. From what his father was so proud of boasting about now was the fact Floyd had gone in for the kill. He had lived up to the family name, acted on instinct and did as he was supposed to. His mother told him about how he had pleaded with the two of them to save Jade's life once he brought him home, nearly split in half, an act of brutality done for nothing, only for the other mer to feel powerful. His mother told him that if he hadn't killed the bastard that went after his brother, their father wouldn't have let her save his twin.

It may sound cold, but it wasn't the fact his brother had been harmed so badly that got to Floyd.

When it was just the two of them, Jade was the loud one. He was always talking, always giggling, always trying to scare him with 'boos' and growls and whatever other noise he could make up.

And Floyd would talk, laugh and be noisy in response. He always had. And he had adored it.

It was that unforgiving silence, that moment of uncertainty and terror, when everything in his body was screaming something was wrong, but his mind couldn't tell him what...besides the fact that Jade was quiet.

After Jade recovered, physically from the attack, Floyd remembered trying desperately to make him laugh. He remembered everything he did being met with little more than a small smile. He remembered how pissed off it made him that Jade wouldn't make noise, and at the time, being young as he was, he would do what he needed to warrant the reaction he wanted. He remembered how his brothers cries sounded when he prodded at his stitches, and how his mother ushered him out of the room, no longer trusted to be alone with Jade. Jade ended up being nursed back to health by their grandma, and Floyd spent most of his time with his parents.

By the time they were 12, Jade had become selectively mute. He refused to speak unless spoken to, would often seemingly appear from nowhere, and the only person he could speak directly to was Floyd, and even then, it was rarely above a whisper. Floyd wasn't entirely sure at the time if it was the result of their grandmother's 'training' for Jade or not, but he was old enough then that he finally understood.

Jade didn't want to be known.

He didn't want to be perceived, he didn't want to be the one caught off guard, he didn't want to be made silent by force again, he refused to fail as a Leech. His silence would let him be the predator rather than the prey.

Floyd understood it. He could get it, but it didn't change the fact that it bothered him, the sound that used to fill the space between them still bothered him now that it was gone, that it had been gone for so long. That noise and lack thereof would never be a liable way of knowing where his brother was, if he was even alive, not anymore.

While they still lived underwater, Floyd and Jade had their own methods of silent communication, the same tell tale movement in the water, subtle flicks of their fins, even just in the way they would meet each other's mismatched eyes.

On land it was harder, at least for Jade. Every step made noise, even as he practiced walking carefully, heel to toe, even with the best shoes he could get while at the boot camp, he couldn't be quiet. For Floyd it was reassuring, he didn't have any other way of telling when Jade was nearby, besides maybe smell, but outside of the water, his senses weren't as strong. Jade was still quiet, but Floyd could see behind his practiced mask, the mounting anxiety was getting to Jade as he unwillingly entertained theoreticals that would race through his mind.

Floyd remembered approaching a pensive Jade one evening, before curfew. He had just been looking out over the lake they had near the boot camp, sevens knew what was going through his mind. Floyd only realized just how jumpy Jade really was once he was within Jade's swinging range - only found out because the crack of branches beneath his feet had let Jade know somebody was walking up to him, though he admitted he didn't know who. It was only after Floyd's hand shot up to stop the bleeding from his nose and a dirty look shot at his twin that he saw tears streaming down Jade's face, his own expression changing immediately.

He kept holding his nose, mostly to try and stop the bleeding as he tried to power through the pain - at least underwater, his fist would have been slowed down, but that wasn't the point at the moment.

In that moment, their eyes were locked onto each other. One bleeding red blood for the first time, the other feeling real tears course down his face for the first time. There were no words to be said, not really. Floyd could see that this was not how Jade wanted to live...or could really continue to live, not on land. The hug that followed after the moment of silence was all the reassurance Jade needed to know his brother would help him, tears absorbing into the thin cloth of Floyd's top.

They never talk about what happened that night, but it was from that moment on that Floyd lived louder. From the way he walked to the skills he chose to develop.

He could keep the attention on him against every moray instinct he had, because the louder he lived, the louder Jade could live, even if it meant he had to scream just for Jade to whisper.

Because if Jade could finally live like a whisper, it meant that he was starting to heal...and it meant that if he went quiet, Floyd wouldn't fail him this time.

----------------------------------------------------------

This post was inspired by a post I saw a While ago, please tag OP if you know who they are, (they mentioned Floyd's biggest fear being Jade's silence), also yes I'm a fan of EPIC shhhh

HAPPY MERMAY lskdjfhlksjdf

[maiiuelle]

wait so in the mermaid!reader thing rafe's gotta be a dredger or something who's looking for stuff to sell which happens to be around her cove !! but she keeps bringing him little trinkets she thinks are valuable but he's just like— why's there a tin can on my ship deck? and she's all smiley underwater knowing that she in fact did that !!

-🪻

omg i’m so so invested in rafe and mermaid!reader’s relationship 🥺 i love the idea of him being going out in search of valuables, maybe ward sent him on the yacht to go check out different areas of the island in hopes of finding some kind of treasure, or at least some clues. of course mer is intrigued. jj was very nice, so maybe this guy will be too!

rafe is out on his yacht, grumbling in frustration about the seemingly meaningless errand his father sent him on. little does he know the treasure he’s stumbled upon, a whole civilization of mermaids living just beneath where he’s stopped. the cliffs at the side of the island hide a cove with an air pocket, the perfect place for mermaids to live in secret from the island dwellers. theres a crack in the stone at the sea floor, just big enough for merfolk to slip in and out of to access the city.

that’s where you just came from, leaving civilization to explore the depths on your own like you do every day. the shadow of his boat catches you off guard, having never seen humans venturing this close to your home. your instinct is to be afraid — who knows who this person could be, or what they could be looking for. you physically shake the thought from your head, deciding that your fear is only a byproduct of the stories you’ve been told. you’re on your own mission to prove humans and mermaids can coexist, and confronting your fear is only the first step.

and with that, you’re picking through the soft sand to find shells, old tin cans, jewelry, and other knickknacks. it’s what you do best, searching around the ocean almosy daily for collectibles you can find in shipwrecks and reefs. you’re all about good first impressions, and who doesn’t like a gift? once the net bag at your side is filled with goodies, you look up at the bottom of the yacht again, giddy with excitement to make a new friend.

on deck, rafe is getting ready to pull up the anchor, sick of looking around for who-knows-what. as he’s reeling it up from the ocean floor, he hears a thump on the opposite side of the deck. he’s quick, his head snapping in the direction of the sound. logically, he knows nobody could be there. but, he still barks out an intimidating, “hello?”

he leaves the anchor and stomps around the deck toward the source of the noise, and he catches only a glimpse of small hands holding onto the side of the boat before they descend back under the water, leaving only a pile of trash and metal sitting on the wooden deck.

rafe runs to the edge of the boat, searching the water for any sign of an explanation for what he just saw. he can only watch the water slowly churn, like a big fish had just passed by beneath the surface. for once, rafe is stunned. the self-proclaimed man of action is frozen, and so shaken he calls it a day.