#they just found clever way to repurpose it

[icharchivist]

Funny then that Cosmos has mismatched eyes as well, but the primals split from her don't, but Grimnir is the one who was split from Odin and also has mismatched eyes. It might be a coincidence, but it is interesting

Maybe mismatch is the fate of split individuals

Geo and Zooey each inherited one of the eyecolors of Cosmos, so i think it really showcase much more Cosmos's own split in her mindset - after all she is all about balance, and in a sense she splits herself in two - the one who would look out for the primals, and the one who would look out for the mortals. They're evenly split from her, they're two distinct part of herself, of her soul.

Yuni's eyes meanwhile are purple which is what would happen if Geo's blue eyes and Zoey's red eyes would mix together. I think it is meant to show that Cosmos is no longer split in two, it's no longer about a balance with two sides pulling on each other -- but Cosmos' true desire is for the two desires to no longer be divided, but be on the exact same realm of existence, hand in hand. It's no longer about Primals' rights, or about Skydwellers' rights, and the way sometimes priviligizing one would mean pulling on the other - it's about the coexistence between those two to be so harmonious that caring for one is caring for the other by default. (after all Yuni's weapon is called Harmonia).

I think it's therefore kind of a coincidence, as i expressed in the previous ask what i think Odin and Grimnir's eyes are like.

But it's still about representing torn ideals imo. It's still about showing this divide between the Original and the Creation.

So like... i think in Cosmos' case it's really much more about the whole thematic around balance, and in Grimnir's, it's about developping a new vision outside of his Original. Cosmos' views shapped her "children", but Grimnir is about "opening his eyes" to the things Odin don't want to see and acknowledge.

It's complicated to explain but in a way i don't think it's a coincidence on the ground of, to me, it seems that in substance, the miscolored eyes are supposed to express this divide between Original and Creations. It's the sharp distinction between the way the Original sees the world, and the Creation does.

But it kinda does stop there in the sens that the thematic i would associate with both reasoning are otherwise way too particular to their respective themes (or, mostly, that Cosmos' theme is so strong it cannot be applied to anyone else), that it returns back to being a coincidence.

[anon-sect]

Picture source: @its.my.shoez Instagram account

Chaze loved his Converse sneakers. He had them for a long time as anyone would be able to tell. So far, they have held up over the years on the outside, but inside was different. The insoles were badly worn out. Wearing them was sometimes uncomfortable, but he really loved these sneakers. He could try replacing them with insoles, but in time, they would wear down just like the one inside them now. He needed insoles that would never wear down and last for ages.

One month later, Chaze had created an indestructible formula that could be applied to make indestructible insoles, but it would only work on living matter instead of normal insoles. The only way to make such an insole was to transform a person into one. He needed to test his indestructible formula on two tests subjects. He knew exactly who to try it on. There were two such individuals he had in mind.

Chaze invited Tommy and John over to one of the private break rooms in the office to have a chat with them. They didn't suspect anything odd about another coworker inviting them to a private conversation. They showed up exactly on break time. Chaze had three drinks in front of him. Two were laced with a special paralyzing concoction along with the indestructible formula. One was a normal drink. He made sure to mark the normal drink so that he didn't accidentally drink out of the wrong cup.

"Tommy and John, we haven't talked much, and I just wanted to get to know you two." Chaze paused, seemly quite friendly with them. "It's often we work together, but never socialize beyond work talk. Here, have a drink with me." He handed them both a cup.

"This is great, actually. Just to have a normal chat for a change." John commented as he took a drink from his cup. "Yeah, I totally agree. We never had outside of work conversations with you." Tommy added as he took several gulps from his cup as well. "This drink is really good," Tommy added as he finished the whole cup. "It's so tasty. What is it exactly?" John asked back.

"It's something special I made for the three of us." Chaze told them with a friendly smile, knowing that the two formulas should take effect any second now. He was ready to put these two in a new position on the job; a position that best serves his feet.

John felt strange. He suddenly found himself unable to move. He tried to speak and even was unable to do that. He did notice a sadistic smile appearing on Chaze's face.

Tommy was mentally panicking. He felt trapped in his body. Unable to move or speak was highly uncomfortable. The sadistic smile on Chaze face said all he should know at that moment. This chat was all a clever rouse for something he had been planning, and the two of them fell for it.

Chaze was pleased that his plan worked perfectly. He brought out his TF device. The setting was already in and ready to turn his two unsuspecting coworkers into the very insoles that would make his sneakers comfortable again. "I needed us to be alone so that I could make you two into a pair of indestructible insoles to make my sneakers more comfortable. You would be much more useful that way." He fired the TF device at both of them, so ready to put them in the bottom of his Converse.

Both Tommy and John watched in horror as Chaze and their whole environment grew in size. They were shrinking and were forming into insoles. Their bodies soon were flat yet with a soft cushioning effect. They were laying in the very chairs they were once sitting in as human beings. They saw Chaze grab them up. Tommy was forced into the left shoe, and John was put into the right shoe.

After placing in his new insoles, Chaze put his Converse back on his feet. He instantly felt comfort under his feet. The new insoles were working out perfectly. He didn't have to get rid of his favorite sneakers thanks to his new insoles. It was true his new insoles were former humans, but they were repurposed to a much better use. He went back to his office to continue working.

John was disgusted by the odor he was trapped in. To make matters worse, he could feel the worn-out insole beneath him. It was painful being pressed down on it. The pressure from Chaze's foot wasn't helping much either. The socked foot had a slight odor to them as well, but not as bad as the sneaker he was trapped in. All of his senses were stronger than when he was human. His senses had him in a hell beyond words could describe. He mentally begged Chaze to let him go. Even though it had only been a few minutes, it felt like an eternity in a stinky pit.

Tommy wasn't having too bad of an experience. The worn-out insole was definitely a pain in the back to be pressed down on. The foot odor in the shoe was bad, but he had a foot fetish. This was one of his fantasies. He was now a living insole trapped in a shoe. To him, it didn't matter whose foot he was trapped under. He was loving every moment that Chaze stepped on him. He didn't want it to ever end. Chaze was his owner, and he would gladly serve his foot forever. He was loving the strong foot odor of the shoe. It was his Master's foot odor. He found himself in foot fetish heaven.

At the end of the work day, Chaze was amazed at how comfortable his feet felt. His new insoles were just perfect. He didn't know if his former coworkers were loving their new existence or hating every moment. And he honestly didn't care at the same time. They were objects under his feet and nothing more. He heard that their coworkers were looking for Tommy and John. He was even asked if he saw them. He told them that he had lunch with them and that was the last time he saw them. He lied and said that he didn't know where they went after lunch. Soon, people will forget about them. But he would always be grateful for the sacrifice for them to make his feet comfortable.

[kylieswift31]

The lightning tree

There has been a consistent recurrence of trees throughout Taylor’s videography over the years. The hunger games series is particular could contain the missing context to understand what the trees represent.

(This was originally posted on X in reply to a comment about the invisible string running through various eras as a fuse for a string of TnT set to go off in succession once triggered. It was also noted that this may extend outside of the TSCU, which I agree with.)

In the hunger games, the wire or thread used throughout the arena (invisible string) is repurposed as a conductor to blow everything up to end the cycle of torturing the next generation. And the sequel ✌🏼catching fire is based on the Truman show. “Moves and countermoves.” It’s planning three steps ahead in a chess game against an opponent who is playing checkers and trying to back you into a corner. The predictability of those around them is what made it possible to plan so far in advance to dismantle the system.

Extending it beyond the TSCU (Taylor Swift Cinematic Universe) creates more connections while leaving no evidence, but it’s just subtle enough that those who are in the know can see it. Just like Truman found a way to communicate with his best friend in plain sight.

The visuals of the mastermind performance echoes the predictable clockwork pattern seen in catching fire. Just like Chely Wright said it would take someone with a level of fame and influence like Taylor has now to enact lasting change within the industry. And just like Truman and Katniss, Taylor is the one standing in the spotlight waiting for the perfect moment to strike when the storm is at its very peak (11.59pm) so her attack creates as much damage/impact as possible. We saw this play out with endorsing Kamala and mentioning Travis in her speech.

“Imagine this. You are sitting on a beach, cold and windswept. The sea is dark and angry before you. The sun sets in muted colors. You finish scrawling on the parchment. Your pen dries up as you reach the end of a story in 11 parts. None of it makes sense anyway. You're sick of having to dilute everything so far beyond recognition. But a story told through metaphor is still a story told. Even the great poet Sappho is survived by stilted fragments and mistranslated lyrics. Maybe that is the beautiful curse people like us must all share. Perhaps loving someone the world doesn't approve of forces you to be clever.” - 🎃 anon

Spider web

Honourable mention: Presley Cash with the spiderwebs that replicate the pattern of the clocks mentioned above. I’ve said this before, but the wheel of the year isn’t talked about enough when discussing clocks. In this case midnight is the end of all hallows eve and marks the beginning of the pagan new year. Does this make Presley the black cat version of the white rabbit? 🪞🕸️🐈‍⬛

The trees

There are so many tree references throughout Taylor’s music videos. I had this list saved for a while but wasn’t sure what direction it was going in until now. And for context these are the trees referenced throughout the hunger game series.

Fearless

Fifteen

Speak now

Sparks fly

Red

All too well

Begin again

1989

Out of the woods

Evermore

Willow

Willow

Midnights

Karma

Other

Safe & sound

Christmas tree farm

Miscellaneous

Tree Paine

Spotify

The Lorax

The Lorax

For context: The Lorax movie begins with Mr O’Hare taking advantage of the fact that all the trees were cut down to begin creating a town reliant on bottled air to survive. The main character Ted tries to impress his crush Audrey (Taylor’s character) and begins the search for a real tree. With the help of his grandmother, Ted embarks on a journey out of town as he learns about how the Once-ler instigated the destruction of the trees despite many warnings from the Lorax (who speaks for the trees).

The Once-ler (the anti hero) spends his life as an outcast on the edge of town. “When I picture my hometown there’s a bronze spray-tanned statue of you, and a plaque underneath it that threatens to push me down the stairs at our school.” He’s the magician that put on a show to impress everyone out of desperation to fit in. In the end he redeems himself by giving Ted and Audrey the last tree seed so that they can plant it in the centre of the town for all to see. In the process the golden statue of Mr O’Hare falls over and creates the first crack in the fake grass, revealing the real soil underneath. “Touch grass” -Katy Perry. The town comes around to the idea of changing the way things are done after they see the real tree with their own eyes.

In the end Audrey was the first one to speak up and question if there was a better way to live and Ted (who became her boyfriend) ended up being the one who created change by taking her idea from a dream to reality. I can’t help but wonder if this is what happened with TNT?

There are so many elements of this movie that are applicable to the bigger picture, but viewing the trees as a metaphor for what celebrities endure is eye opening to say the least. ❤️‍🩹

“My beloved ghost and me. Sitting in a tree. D-Y-I-N-G.” -How did it end?

Animal crossing

Honourable mention -Hayley Williams referencing the trees from Animal crossing. The trees and the game in general have a similar fake look to them as the scenery in the Lorax movie. This feels like an acknowledgement of the fantasy vs reality so many experience throughout the industry and that not everything we see is as it seems.

Real vs fake

To circle back to the connection between the trees and the invisible string, the willow music video is where these two elements come together. At first I thought the communal nature of the orbs represented the New Romantics, but viewing it through the context of the Lorax it now feels like a reference to everyone who benefits from the system staying the way it is. The real vs manufactured trees.

Unravelling the thread and sharing it around ensures that artists can thrive without being dependent on sticking to the old ways. In an interview Taylor mentioned how she likes to network at parties and how easy it is to share contact details and group photos etc through airdrop without leaving a trace. I feel like this is one of the ways experienced artists are sharing their wisdom with the new generation like Ice Spice, Gracie Abrams, Sabrina Carpenter and Chappell Roan.

And for all of us watching it all unfold from home, we have the opportunity to choose which narrative to focus on. We can either sit back and wait for a grand reveal or pay attention to the cracks gradually forming in the facade.

“Please picture me in the trees”

A tortured poet,

Kylie x

[katyspersonal]

Sort of continuation of previous post regarding SOTE progress because I could not add more pictures anymore gfyjvghj

10) I found this guy in the same catacombs that gave more Godwyn lore:

Messmers' FLIGHT from the Erdtree?? Also Messmer really held and L if his first knight turned on him lol :p Makes me feel like Andreas was "standing with his cancelled mutual" but then appeared that he was cancelles for a good reason? XD He could never be Tanith tho LMAO 😔

11) So, there are also Bell Bearings in the Land of Shadow!

I noticed a pot hanging on a string on that platformer towards Cerulean Shores and of course guessed to shoot it from the bow! So yes, it dropped a Bell Bearing upon breaking!

12) Also found this on my way!!

13) So apparently some bastardisation of Trina's sleep magic exists done by her follower(s?)!

Whereas sleep of Trina is pacifist and peaceful in nature, this sleep appears to be weaponized! Basically, putting people into a coma, unless they have exceptional willpower! I didn't screenshot it but I got a weapon variant of Perfumer's Bottle after crossing the bridge and description said how it was repurposed into flame-throwing weapon since Land of Shadows is ALL about war and "Perfumers were not called here for healing", so it coincides with turning Sleep magic into a dangerous weapon too I think! Damn I want to know more, there was that purple person in the trailer after all!

14) More Formless Mother lore!

I instantly thought about Formless Mother, especially since 'outer' translation liberty and in real Japanese script it just refers to sort of higher gods, to distinguish them from the royal family from Marika/Radagon! So yeah, no wonder that she used to be a person (?). I also felt soooooo clever when I figured it was her because where you find it there are bloody flowers (equivalent of Mohg's roses) and one of the Bloodfiends did mini version of Nihil, when suddenly they dropped...

Damn, let me connect the dots myself, stop explaining me EVERYTHING verbally ;-; (says an autist..... -_- )

Later, I also have the bloody cave:

So yeah... Mohg falls for that consistent Soulsborne games trope where a person picks up traditions/practices/rituals from distant past! Love Soulsborne for 'history repeats itself' tropes so much *looks at Bloodborne a lot*. This makes me happy!!

Also there is a correlation between being very miserable and worshipping her, huh.. But this explains why we can only enter Land of Shadow through Miquella's body that was accelerated with that blood, if Formless Mother originates from it. It was my second version hoooo boy

[mrs-wonderful]

This is real life—sometimes the to-do list wins, and you just can’t check everything off by the end of the day. I absolutely despise that broom and dustpan. I trip over it constantly, and apparently, so does everyone else. So why is it still here? Good question! I swore I’d get rid of it over a year ago, but here we are—classic me. Attention deficit, anyone? Lists could probably save me, but I’m so behind that even thinking about making one scrambles my brain. Hopefully, this blogging experiment will help me get a better grip on my house—and my sanity! Everything looks better in pictures, besides. ♥ Honey, I would absolutely love it if you got me a brand-new broom, mop, and dustpan set this Christmas! We’ve joked about it before, but trust me—this time, it’s not a joke!

Who else does this? Years ago, I had a ridiculous stash of magazines, but I held onto a few favorites. Then there was this Neko poster I bought for my daughter—she didn’t like it, but I just couldn’t bring myself to toss it. The problem? I still had so much wall space to fill, and I was going for a pink theme. That’s when inspiration struck! I flipped through those old magazines and found a few recipes that matched the vibe. Voilà! Not only is it budget-friendly, but it’s also a clever way to save money on decor, repurpose what you already have, and get inspired to try new recipes. Win-win!

[phoenixcatch7]

Having so much fun with sb ruin, we haven't run into ANY major glitches never mind game breaking ones, and we've just done the new daycare section. Spoilers if you haven't got that far and want to play it, but I had some thoughts about Eclipse.

Now eclipse is something that's been in the fandom for a while, I think before even the balloon boy game was found, but it's never really been canon? I don't think the name ever appeared in game, but previously the only depiction of some secret third personality in the daycare attendant was the strange purple glitch in the minigame that revealed a red black glowing sun face with red eyes. It was all very threatening and spooky, and you are in a horror game after all (supposedly), so of course people imagined eclipse to be some ultra terrifying final line of defence for the daycare or the pizzaplex as a whole. Tall. Aggressive. Clever. Comes with a whole colour change to match, the way sun and moon do.

But ruin showed a completely different Eclipse! He (they? It?) was clear of mind (mostly, he was convinced the plex was running as normal), kind, and safe! He even gently dropped cassie off outside the play area! Even sun in sb physically threw us out in fury lmao. His eyes glowed different colours, his ARMS glowed different colours (that would have been so cool in sb), he had the rays and cap at the same time!

But why? What reason was eclipse programmed? In the daycare, there wouldn't have been any reason for him.

Well, there's the theory that sun and moon weren't originally created for the daycare, at least not solely. Instead, it's highly possible that they were made for the theatre next door.

Why? Well, for one, their design. Sun and moon are dressed like jesters, with bright colours and stripes, baggy trousers, curled toe slippers, and bells and ribbons on every limb. They bob and move in a way designed to jingle, with very long and articulate joints, even their head has a huge range of motion compared to the other animatronics. In fact, pretty much everything BUT their face is very expressive. It's as if they were designed to be seen at a distance. Exposed wires on the back of their head too, something none of the other animatronics have (being grabbed and hugged and climbed by kids all day, that's dangerous! To both them and the animatronics!)

The theatre, too, is designed and fitted for live performances. Though it is mostly a movie theatre now with a giant screen, there was still that badly programmed staff bot comedian (both in the game setting and its actual coding lmao) and the entire backstage area with dressing rooms, abandoned set pieces and undressed endos. The sun and moon faces are the theatre masks of joy and sorrow at its entrance. It's very likely sun and moon were originally intended to be the main actors, playing both villain and hero roles and saving the company a LOT of money in the long run, not paying for lead actors every day.

So what does this have to do with eclipse?

In the daycare, his presence makes little sense, but as a theatre performer, it would have been invaluable. Instead of making the character unbalanced in one direction, eclipse could have served as narrator, ringmaster, ambassador, he would have been the one bowing after a show, the one talking to parents, handing out flyers and merch, all the stuff you need to front that kind of show.

For one, it puts sun and moon on equal levels as all their marketing does, rather than sun being pretty much the sole worker. It allows them to act and be seen as two parts of a whole, rather than sun (and his evil counterpart). Eclipse is unbothered by changes in light, moving from the bright spotlights that crippled moon into total darkness that overrode dun in sb. From a production standpoint, eclipse is ideal to work with, the best parts of sun and moon.

But why sell one lot of merch when you could sell two? Make it a set?

And when they were repurposed to the daycare attendant, there wasn't much use for a third personality at all. Maybe behind the curtains, down in parts and services, maybe some niche situations. But without merch, without need, with the animatronic still in use, common knowledge of the eclipse program dissipated like mist.

All except for sun and moon and one broken arcade machine.

[unseenphil]

Prompt #13: Check

One could say many things about Ray Marlowe's intelligence- many called him cunning or canny, or 'surprisingly deft with the math required for arcanism' or 'a natural aptitude for magitech'. But no one's ever called him a tactical thinker, and for good reason; his plans usually involved "Other people do something clever while I approach things from the front with brute force.'

The thing is, the brute force approach usually worked for him, at least when it came to actual violence.

Simulated violence on the other hand, wasn't always so reliable.

"You'd think someone who named their turrets after chess pieces would be better at the game," said his opponent, dryly. Y'shtola collected another one of Ray's pawns, and announced, "Check."

"I only named one of them after a chess piece, and that was mostly because it was shaped like one. The Queen...promoted herself. Which is a thing that turrets can do, apparently." He looked for a way out, found it, and moved, hopefully.

Y'shtola kept a perfect poker face- she wasn't expressionless, she was just smiling very faintly at it all. "So you've said before- your turret wanted to do more for you and suddenly transformed?" She paused to examine the board- the pieces were all enchanted with a bit of aether, to make them easier for her to "see".

"Yeah, damnedest thing. I showed it to the Ironworks and they speculated it might be a similar to what happened with Maggie- that magitech armor i've had since fighting Ultima weapon. It should have burned out, but pushed beyond its limits and came to save me."

"So your ability to inspire loyalty extends to the inanimate, then." She finally moved. "Perhaps it's related to the matter of Dynamis. Check, by the way. And mate in three."

"Pity it apparently doesn't work to inspire chess pieces to push that extra step." He toppled his king over with a finger. "I concede."

Her smile broadened. "Excellent. Another game, or?"

"No, no, I know when I'm beaten. Though I do need to get better at the game if I ever want to take another crack and making Mammett Chess."

"Ah, yes. I recall that went disastrously before."

"Yeah. Can't use the verminion rules as a startng point, they're too destructive that way. Can't really use their default behavior, either, as their personalities are based on what the creators think about the models."

Naturally, it was at this point when a wind up Y'shtola, a festival gift from a few summers back, toddled into the room, climbed up on to the table, then clung to Ray's arm, somehow contriving to wear a smug expression while looking at her larger counterpart.

Everything froze, for a moment, and then Ray sighed. "This one, for example, was probably part of a promotion for that bloody book that they had to repurpose at the last second."

"I...see. Y'shtola's smile was frozen. "I had never observed this particular behavior in mine. I suppose that was because they never completed their plans for a version of you. I distinctly recall bu..." another stiff pause. "that they were a casualty of the fire that took out the warehouse holding that book."

Her tone implied there might be more arson in the near future, so Ray quickly got up to fetch her some more tea to try and keep her temper in check.

[cracksinthe-ice]

Challenge 4.

The Bet Continues.

@my-lost-darling

Read It from the Start:

Challenge 1.   Challenge 2. Clever Whispers (Hatter & Wendy) Challenge 3. Open Positions (Jess & Wendy)

Nathaniel was pissed. Wendy had outsmarted him twice. Twice.

The mortal was crafty which meant he had to be more so. She may have been able to continue to work at the Court, she may have been able to repurpose her voice but there was a very easy way to solve this. 

After all, Wendy had gotten sloppy. She had opened her heart to a mortal.

There was a quiet threat the next time the pair had gone out, a couple butterflies following around the writer. Something that he would not notice more beyond it not being the season for butterflies but Wendy would know. 

And she did.

But she refused to give Nimble the control he wanted, she continued the date she had with Ichabod. Eyeing the butterflies as they hovered and hid around them. Eventually as their time ended and Wendy marched to wherever the butterflies lead her.

As always Nimble had chosen the forest. Where he felt most at home but that didn’t mean she couldn’t feel at home either. She had found her way through it once and she would do it over and over again. 

“Wendy.”

“Nimble.”

“You are playing a dangerous game, playing with the outcomes. You think I don’t know how you gave information that was not yours to give. Or how you located a loophole.” If it hadn’t been for Ren and Jess, Nimble would be playing a little more there.

But as such Jess was off limits so he had to play a different game. 

He had to draw Wendy out.

“You choose a game and you weren’t smart enough to out think me.” Wendy stated, very stupidly and she knew it but at the same time she was mad at him. She was angry he had taking her life and made of game of it. 

“Just say what you want and let’s end this.”

“If I win you stop performing at the Court.” Nimble stated simply.

“If I win you stay away from me, my family and anyone we even care about in this town.” Wendy stated simply, she wanted this over, she wanted him to stop these games and if she could cut off his access maybe he would just get bored.

He nodded and of course he did. Thinking he would win.

And maybe he would but Wendy would figure it out. She always did. 

“It’s quite a simple challenge. A race.”

“Myself vs a Fae, Those are pretty stacked odds.” 

“It will be equal. A race to find someone. I won’t use my butterflies and It’s all about your mind. Knowing someone. Surely if you know your humans well enough you can find them first. But it can not be your family.”

Who would she be able to find quickly. Someone he didn’t know either.

“Sarina.” The girl shouldn’t be at work and if she hadn’t tripped Nimble’s radar maybe Wendy could get there first.

Nimble just nodded simply.  “I’ll give you a head start.” 

Wendy wasn’t about to wait for him to take it back. She spun on her heel trying to think it through. She could be with DeSoto, but the other was likely to be at work at this time. She obviously had her house but it was too early for her to turn in for the night. 

She was most likely out. Looking for a hook up.

She wouldn’t do that at the Court. So Pixies or out of town. If she was out of town Wendy was out of luck so Pixies it was.

Running through town was easy. Some of the looks she got not so much but it didn’t matter not when she got to the door and showed her ID.

It hadn’t taken her long at all. It was a fast decision and she was quick on her feet too. Surely she had beat Nimble.

And yet here he was towering over the crowd, leaning slightly over Sarina as if talking to her, flirting with her. But Sarina’s hands were glowing green ready to fight him and Wendy knew. She had lost.

Nimble turned to look at her with a grin, giving Sarina just enough space to burn him, but it didn’t get rid of that shit eating on his face. All he did was pull around and sprinkle some ice around the girl before trailing past Wendy.

“He’s a dick.” Sarina muttered as Wendy walked closer.

“He is.”

Nimble: 4 Wendy: 0

[jodilinbio]

Many urged me to turn to God after receiving the insane sentence I did. Yet, my hatred towards Him only deepened. If God existed, allowing this to happen to me—on top of everything else I’d already endured—was despicable, inexcusable, and unforgivable. Sure, everyone had their struggles, but I certainly didn’t deserve what I got, and many others agreed, though they had no power to help me.

Tom patiently supported me through the 180 days I was stuck in Phoenix’s Estrella Jail. He wrote to me weekly, visited twice a week, and kept money in my account for commissary.

What angered me most was knowing that no one who had ever wronged me—whether in a big or small way—had ever faced any consequences. People tried to convince me that God would “get ‘em” in the afterlife, but I had no way of counting on that—or even knowing if an afterlife existed.

The next six months were filled with anger and homesickness, but they were also packed with unexpected adventures. I met interesting people and learned a lot of new survival tactics. I learned how to peel kiwis with plastic spoons, the only utensils allowed. I trimmed my bangs with nail clippers. I discovered that gum could be made by rubbing orange peels against Styrofoam cups, softened by their acids, and flavored with toothpaste—though I found it pretty disgusting. Jail taught me that things could have more than one use. Toothpaste doubled as glue for sticking pictures to the wall, though the DOs often made us take them down. Wet wads of toilet paper worked well to block part of the air vents so we wouldn’t freeze so much. The old-fashioned, non-stick maxi pads without pins made surprisingly good washcloths and could also be repurposed as earplugs using the cotton core.

The food was beyond terrible. Rarely did we get anything halfway decent. Mostly it was bread and overly spicy hotdogs or sausages. And the showers were just as cold as the jail itself.

In pencil, since pens weren’t allowed, I documented my day-to-day experiences, good and bad. I’d send a few pages at a time home to wait until I could return to type them up.

Miraculously, I made it through my sentence without a single write-up, though I had a few close calls.

County time is hard time, but as strange as it sounds, I had more freedom in jail than I did in Brattleboro or Valleyhead. They didn’t run us ragged all day and night. Oddly enough, more people seemed to care about me there, and having a set release date from the start made things a bit easier. In those other places, I never knew when I was leaving until the day I actually left.

Of the sixty or so detention officers (DOs) I encountered, I only disliked a few. Most of them were surprisingly cool, especially officers Pérez, Palma, Chambers, Temple, and Espinoza—“Espi,” as we called her. But none could compare to Johnson, whom I affectionately referred to as “Teddy Bear.” I had always been attracted to her, and although the feeling was mutual, neither of us realized it until close to the end of my sentence. There were a few others—three female officers and one male—that I knew were also attracted to me.

In court, I would’ve refused to sign the appeals paperwork after the judge sentenced me if it weren’t for the bailiff urging me to do so.

“What’s the point?” I said. “I’m too white and definitely too Jewish to fight these people.” I didn’t yet know I’d been framed in a clever and successful way, and I also knew that by the time anything happened with the appeal, my sentence would be over.

During one of our visits, Tom told me he had written a complaint to the Bar Association about Paul, but naturally, they refused to do anything.

My heart nearly stopped in fear. “Tom, don’t! Please don’t. It’s hopeless. I appreciate your support and I know you’re just trying to seek justice, but there is no justice in this case. Don’t fight for me; it’ll only make things worse, especially while I’m in here. But how did that pig know I was Jewish?”

“Well, you do look it—with your facial features. Plus, he would’ve known your maiden name. I really believe you’re here more for being Jewish than for being a complainer.”

“I just don’t see how I could end up here for so long for sending journals, Jewish or not.”

“You’re not in here for the journals. It’s because of that letter—and the cop was personal friends with her.”

I looked at him in disbelief.

“Yeah, haven’t you figured that out yet?” he asked, pointing out their behavior in court.

I thought back to the way they’d interacted. “I suppose I should’ve realized, but I couldn’t stand looking in their direction that much. I was afraid I’d come completely unglued if I did. But yes, I sensed something was off. I just didn’t want to admit it. It’s terrifying to acknowledge that these things really happen. After all, I did have the dreams warning me of trouble ahead.”

I knew I couldn’t have been their only victim. Just like a rapist doesn’t only rape once, I knew the corrupt cop had very likely used and abused his authority over others as well.

We discussed how I should’ve gone to trial. If I had, it was unlikely I’d have been convicted and sent to prison for a year and a half as Paul warned. All I would’ve had to do was claim I knew nothing of the letter (had I had a lawyer tell me that’s what I was being charged with up front), which would’ve planted enough doubt in the jurors’ minds. Paul manipulated me into not going to trial because trials cost money.

“No one’s going to hurt you,” said the detention officer as he handcuffed me after the sentence was handed down. He walked me out of the courtroom and into the Horseshoe, the central booking station. I was crying hysterically. We passed a chain of male inmates awaiting their own court appearances. One of them handed me a religious booklet. I let it fall from my hands onto the cold, hard concrete floor. God was the last thing I had any faith in at that moment.

They took my hair barrette and put me in a room not much bigger than a phone booth, alone. There was nothing to sit on, so I slid down the wall and onto the floor, sobbing until I was nearly hyperventilating. I was numb with utter shock and disbelief. This was only supposed to happen to other people—or on TV. Eventually, a female DO came to get me to go over some forms, but I honestly can’t even remember what they were about. Probably just general info.

At first, I refused to cooperate. I knew it wasn’t right to take out my frustration on the detention officers (DOs), but I was done with “cooperation.” Look where it had gotten me.

After they removed my cuffs, I was frisked, photographed, had my blood drawn, and my fingerprints taken. Then they threw me into a holding cell with about twenty-five other women. The cell was all concrete and steel, with a three-foot wall partially shielding the toilet. Two walls had concrete benches, while the third had three steel bunks, completely bare of mattresses.

Some of the other inmates tried to console me, but at the time, I was beyond inconsolable. I wasn’t just shocked and depressed—I was furious. Every “if only” raced through my mind, even though it was pointless. If only I had taken the neighbor’s crap and done nothing about it. But since I didn’t, if only I hadn’t opened the door to the cops. But I did, and after that, if only I hadn’t gone to court. If only I had gone to trial. If only, if only, if only.

After fifteen grueling hours in the holding cell with nothing to eat (not that I could have eaten), we were cuffed in pairs and loaded onto a bus for the ten-minute ride to Estrella jail. The male inmates were packed into tiny, phone-booth-sized enclosures. The women, including me, sat on open seats. My cuff mate was a large woman named Becky, who kindly tried not to squash me every time the bus jerked around a corner by our crazy driver.

When we got to the jail, we filed into the intake area, where we were uncuffed.

“Be a man!” I suddenly heard a female officer shout at a male inmate. Her name tag read Wilder. “How bad do you want that work furlough? A little tact and class takes a man a long way.”

We were then separated and put into different holding cells. With limited bench space, most of us lay on the cold floor, huddling together for body warmth.

After about a half-hour, an inmate trustee came by to get our sizes so we could change into the ridiculous black-and-white-striped uniforms issued by the jail.

When I finally received my ID card, I stared at the photo. Damn, I look terrified, I thought.

From that moment on, I was no longer Jodi S. I was just a number.

Around midnight, we were assigned to different areas of the jail based on our classification. Unsentenced inmates, pregnant women, and those with medical issues were sent to the dorms, large rooms holding 130 women in rows of bunks. Sentenced inmates like me were sent to Tent City.

Tent City consisted of ten army tents set up in a yard surrounded by two layers of fifteen-foot-high, razor-wire-topped fences. Even more razor wire was coiled at the base of the outer fence. Each inmate was assigned to a tent based on their job, as everyone was expected to work a shift. When you first arrived, you were placed in the “welfare tent” until assigned a job. Most inmates qualified for “two-for-ones,” where each day worked reduced their sentence by a day. Of course, I was one of the unlucky few with a flat sentence, so I didn’t qualify.

The indoor area included a dayroom with picnic-like tables bolted to the floor. Lockers lined one wall where we could store personal items if we bought a lock through commissary. Off one side of the dayroom was a small room with showers, and on the other side, a bathroom. The three-foot-high walls between the stalls offered little privacy, so if you wanted any, you had to use the filthy, mice-infested porta-johns outside. There were also sinks, payphones, and the DOs’ station, which was enclosed in a chain-link fence that ran from the floor to the ceiling.

When I was assigned to the laundry tent—the biggest of them all—Officer Trilock, known for being strict, assigned me to a top bunk.

“But I can’t climb up there,” I told her.

At first, she glared at me like she wanted to kill me. Then she asked, “Are you Jodi S.?”

I nodded.

Her expression softened. “You’ll be okay,” she assured me, and later assigned me to a lower bunk.

What I didn’t know was that the media had been all over my case, and many DOs felt bad for me, regardless of whether I was guilty or not. I also didn’t look like the typical inmate. Most of the others were there on drug charges with their hardened and less-than-attractive appearance, missing teeth, and unkempt look. So, I definitely stood out.

I got hit on by several inmates and soon realized that Johnson, who I would meet later, wasn’t the only DO who liked me. They didn’t have to say much—it was in the way they looked at me as opposed to their words. I got more attention in jail than I ever had in all the gay bars combined.

Officer Arajo was one of those who seemed attracted to me, though the feeling was far from mutual. Standing six feet tall and mean in every way, she was a stereotypical “dyke,” as people would call her, and that wasn’t my type.

Overall, despite a few arguments and one near-fight, I was well-liked by both the inmates and most of the DOs.

The DOs wore beige uniforms with their first initials and last names displayed on their name tags. They typically addressed us by our last names, but some called me by my first name, especially the ones who liked me—not just physically but because they saw me as smart and funny, though they knew I could be a bit of a bully at times.

About forty of us slept in the laundry tent with only two portable heaters at each end of the forty-foot tent. The days were pleasant, but the nights were freezing. Despite wearing thermal underwear under my stripes and bundling up with half a dozen blankets, I was still cold.

At night, the women on the lower bunks would ask me to check for mice nesting in their blankets, as I wasn’t afraid of them.

We woke up at 4:00 AM for a nauseating breakfast and were then cuffed in pairs and led to work in the laundry department. There were three supervisors: one I didn’t like, and two others, Kevin and Maria, who were pretty cool. Both expressed that they believed I’d been railroaded and encouraged me to fight my case, but at the time, I couldn’t see how that was possible. Still, I wanted to fight, not just for me, but for others who might also be victims.

Maria nearly fainted when she realized who I was. In a high-pitched voice, the stout, motherly woman exclaimed, “You’re Jodi S.? Oh my God!”

Yeah, lucky me. The one and only infamous Jodi S.

There was no coffee in jail. No tea, no soda—just milk and juice. Toward the end of my sentence, a coffee cart came around selling decaf coffee, tea, hot chocolate, soda, and soup, but it didn’t last. Apparently, they weren’t making enough money.

The food was atrocious. We often got “slop,” tiny bits of mystery meat in congealed gravy. Spicy hotdogs were a favorite at Estrella, but nothing was as common as the bread and bland potatoes they constantly served.

If you had no money, you’d get an indigent package each week: a short toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, ten sheets of paper, five stamped envelopes, and a golf pencil. Combs, soap, and feminine supplies were on demand. If you did have money, you could buy a radio (until they took that option away after I left), writing supplies, hygiene items, and snacks—but first, you had to pay $30 a month for “rent.”

During their sentence, most inmates gained around 30 pounds due to the abundance of starch, sugar, and lack of physical activity. I, on the other hand, made an effort to jog in place with my little radio on most days—when I wasn’t completely exhausted. I arrived at 115 pounds, dropped to 105, and left at 119.

My biggest fear when I was first sentenced was losing our house. I was terrified they’d demand I move back to Phoenix, but I was determined not to. I had dreamed of owning a house like ours and living in a rural town for too long to let a group of hateful people take it from me. While the county could dictate my life in jail, I wasn’t about to let them control how I lived on the outside, especially over such a petty and false accusation.

I also feared dealing with a nightmare of a probation officer, especially after the corrupt cop, deceitful lawyer, and vindictive judge I had already faced. I was anxious about being ordered to work outside the house, but I was ready to stand my ground. After all, I lived miles from any bus line, and as far as I was concerned, I already worked. I was sick of society’s disdain for homemakers, even though my responsibilities went beyond just cleaning the house.

Life in the tents was a nightmare. Sleep was nearly impossible with people constantly moving around, yelling, laughing, and sometimes crying. Whenever I did manage to fall asleep, I was woken up over and over again. The DOs would make announcements over the loudspeakers, and inmates were always noisy, often smoking with cigarettes smuggled in during their open-contact visits. Ever since I quit smoking, I became extremely intolerant of secondhand smoke.

On my second or third day there, a DO told me Channel 3 wanted to interview me. My heart raced with a sliver of hope—someone cared! Someone thought six months for a letter was absurd, whether I was guilty or not!

Or so I thought. In reality, they hadn’t come to offer support; they came to attack me. Though they initially claimed to be “neutral,” it was clear just minutes into the interview that they were there to make a spectacle of me for entertainment. The anchorwoman, speaking as if the supposed victim was the one who’d been wronged, eventually came right out and asked if I was a racist. Suddenly, the entire narrative shifted to whether Jodi S. hated Black people.

I should have left the room as soon as I realized I was under attack, but I stayed, trying to be polite. I was confused, unable to understand why I was receiving the same kind of media attention usually reserved for murderers or celebrities. Was Oprah going to call next?

That night, when Tom saw the news segment, he told me they’d edited out everything I said, making me look like some horrible monster.

Feeling utterly helpless, used, and depressed, I returned to the tents, more hopeless than ever. I sat in the dayroom and cried. Looking around, I wondered how many others were there for petty offenses, trumped-up charges, or perhaps even innocent like me. I couldn’t be the only one in this situation.

An Asian woman named April approached me. She was a therapist in jail for beating her husband, though it was hard to imagine such a small woman, probably no more than 90 pounds, doing that. She hugged me, introduced me to others in nearby tents, and let me cry on her shoulder. While she couldn’t help me get out of jail, just having someone care enough to listen made a difference.

The first inmate to show me physical affection was Angel, who bunked in my tent. She generously gave me paper and an envelope so I could write to Tom since you had to be there a week before receiving commissary or indigent packages. But her fondness wasn’t mutual—I wasn’t attracted to her. Even so, she wanted to soap my back in the showers, kiss me, and hold my hand every chance she got. Fortunately, I was moved inside before I had to break her heart and tell her we weren’t on the same page.

The DOs weren’t allowed to open legal mail, but we had to open it in front of them. One day, LaBorde—whom I privately called “LaVoice”—handed me a letter from the adult probation department. I opened it, and as she walked off, I read the terms and conditions of my probation.

No alcohol? No problem. I didn’t drink.

No contact with the “victims”? Only in my dreams, I thought sarcastically, shaking with rage.

No contact with the arresting officer? Of course not. Why would they want us to confront them for screwing us over?

No guns? No problem—though we didn’t own one, you could bet we’d get one if anyone caused trouble at the house. They knew where we lived, thanks to the media and their “pig pal,” and we weren’t about to be sitting ducks. No system could keep us from defending ourselves if it came to that.

As I sat with my list of “no-nos,” I felt like a child again, being told what to do, when to do it, and how. If there was ever a time I felt my life wasn’t my own as an adult, it was then. I wondered if I’d ever feel free again.

How had these people managed to seize total control of my life from such a distance? Before, they hadn’t cost us money or my freedom, but now they owned every aspect of me. They dictated my every move, from where I was to what I wore, ate, and even when I slept. Ironically, I slept better with them just a few feet away making all the racket they made! They controlled my visits with Tom, took me away from my home and pets, and even from my dental care—I was without my retainers for two months, causing my teeth to shift.

As I sat on my bunk, I reflected on the last 24 hours. My heart was heavy with sadness, my fists clenched in anger.

Each day, it became harder to pull myself out of bed to fold laundry from 5:00 AM to 12:30 PM. I was sleeping less and less each night. By the fourth night, I was tossing and turning until 1:00 AM, listening to the shouts and laughter of other inmates.

“This is impossible,” I told myself. “I can’t work with no sleep, and I don’t deserve this. I didn’t do anything wrong, and I won’t work for a sheriff who’s degraded me to a common criminal. Screw this! I’m not going to kiss this state’s ass!”

A sense of panic welled up inside me. For the first time in years, I wanted to die. If I were dead, I’d never have to worry about being stuck in places I didn’t want to be or dealing with society’s bullshit at my own expense.

I thought of ways I could kill myself before anyone could stop me. Maybe I could hang myself with a sheet from the fence, or slam my head against the wall.

Then I remembered the razors that littered the shower room floor. My heart pounded as I climbed out of bed, feeling drawn toward the showers and those razors. But as I approached, another force seemed to push me past it, leading me toward the DO’s station.

[sepublic]

Belos’ Day of Unity

            This episode confirmed a HUGE detail for us, and it’s that the Day of Unity involves merging the human and Demon Realms together! This better explains why Belos wants the Portal… If he just wanted to access the human world, he could do that with regular Titan’s Blood alone, but he needs something on a level that can maintain a lasting, open connection between the two! Not only that…

         But as Boscha so ‘kindly’ reminds us later this episode, Luz’s glyphs don’t work in the human world! Magic is a gift from the isles… And with the association of wild magic as ‘elemental’, how Luz’s glyphs take an elemental form… How they were the first form of magic, learned from observing the isles themselves and whatnot-

         It seems wild magic, at least as how Belos defines and hates it, takes a lot of cues and even draws power from the Boiling Isles! From the Demon Realm itself… Which, is interesting because;

         Belos clearly wants to control magic. He sees it as something witches have to more or less earn back… But ideally, they have to earn it from him entirely! Bile magic is something Belos can control, it’s confined to people’s bodies and he has the coven bindings to do so- Belos can control bodies, he can override that autonomy, and it comes from a source he can regulate. You can even see it with staffs, especially the one that Hunter has!

         Staffs can be taken away, they can be broken and drained. They’re external, but in a way that Belos can easily separate a witch from… And with Hunter, this takes on a whole new twisted meaning, because Hunter’s staff is (or rather was) his ONLY source and means of magic… 

        And as someone who created that staff no doubt, Belos can easily tamper with and restrict the spells that Hunter can access with it, no doubt- I wouldn’t be surprised if Belos could turn off Hunter’s staff at will! It’s his to give and take as he pleases, and given Belos’ unwillingness to create more Palismen, we still see plenty of carefulness with staffs as an external source of magic as well. Belos might intend to replace magical staffs with his own version that he can control!

         But wild magic and glyphs? They come from the isles, they come from the very land itself… And Belos CAN’T restrict the very fabric of the reality he lives in. Glyphs are an outside-context problem, you don’t need a bile sac to wield them; And they completely bypass the issues of coven bindings. You can’t restrict glyphs, the way you can’t restrict knowledge- It’s always bound to slip through Belos’ grasp, no matter how hard he tries. And once a secret is out, it tends to spread like wildfire…

         Belos can’t just apply some massive coven binding to the Demon Realm entirely… Can he?

         That’s of course where the Day of Unity comes in. Where OUR world comes in… If magic, specifically the wild magic that fuels glyphs, is sourced directly from the Demon Realm itself… And our world has no magic, glyphs are useless there? 

        Belos might intend to neutralize the Demon Realm’s magic entirely, by fusing it with the human world! And/or, with how the human world seems more vast than the Demon Realm (the Boiling Isles is only the size of Vermont), the magic inherent to it will be spread so thin that it’ll be too weak to utilize.

         And that’s… As Luz might put it, fiendishly clever! Belos recognizes his limits. He knows he can’t control the knowledge of glyphs, the memory of them- And even if he could, people can still learn directly from the isles itself, from the Demon Realm itself- The Light Glyph can be found in the stars! So long as the original source exists to learn from, nothing is truly stopping someone from paying attention and finding it on their own, potentially by accident!

         If Belos can’t truly, physically control this magic and restrain it- Then it’s a liability, especially since it can grant coven-bound witches access to full magic again, and allow them to turn the tides. It makes Belos and his system redundant… So he has to remove the original source of wild magic, WITHOUT destroying his own world and of course himself in the process!

         In comes our world. With the Demon Realm’s magic neutralized and/or diffused, the only source will come from the bile in witch’s bodies, which Belos CAN restrict. Sure, some witches might escape here or there, slip through the cracks and have unbound children… But that’s nothing compared to the threat of glyphs, which anyone can learn at any time!

         And if Belos plans to somewhat conquer the human world, at least to defend and maintain his own utopia- It works out again! Because our technology is based on knowledge, nothing is stopping the witches of Belos’ society from learning and adapting to our own technology, repurposing it for themselves. We already see technology exist to some degree anyway, such as in the Abomitons, and Belos’ own creations! It’d be easy for witches to repurpose our own technology for themselves.

         But humans? We can’t cast magic. We have no bile sacs… And even glyphs, the one form of magic we COULD wield, would be rendered powerless by our own world! Sure, there might be a few witches here or there that would come to our side, that would oppose Belos’ conquest and imperialism… 

        But those select few wouldn’t make up for the vast differences in numbers, nor could they have kids who’d grow up at a fast enough rate. Magic can replicate technology’s uses in its own way –scrolls can access a magical version of the internet- and I wouldn’t be surprised if the Day of Unity will also empower Belos as some kind of all-powerful, magical god who could easily handle what us puny humans throw at him, anyway.

         Aside from a much smaller population… Again, it seems magic is a good way for Belos to ensure his own power and conquest over our world, too- Or at least to keep us out of his own borders. Perhaps Belos only intends to rule his select portion of the Demon Realm within Connecticut, and bar out everyone else to their own devices, occasionally checking in to make sure we don’t ‘invade’ his own bubble.

         Maybe Belos doesn’t even intend to transport the entire Demon Realm, just the Boiling Isles itself, to the human world… Which of course isolates witches from that source of wild magic even more.

         There is an issue of course- And that gets down to how witches create magical bile. With how magic is a gift from the isles, it’s possible witches are simply able to convert the innate magic of the atoms and molecules around them in their digestive system, and turn that into bile- Meaning without this ‘magical radiation’, eventually a witch will run out of magic bile and be depleted, should they stay in the human world without any access to the Demon Realm.

         Does Belos know, or even care? Maybe this is his way of also removing magic entirely… Or as I said, with how magic will be spread thin when our worlds fuse; Perhaps it will exist in enough of a capacity in this fused realm, that biological witches can still harvest this magical radiation and produce bile. 

        Or, based on how King described it in The Unauthorized History of the Boiling Isles, witches just naturally produce their own magical radiation in the form of bile- They don’t need to be connected to the Demon Realm to do, they are their own sustainable source!

         Either way, Belos’ plan makes a disturbing amount of sense… It’s the final nail in the coffin as a way for him to physically control magic, and it’s the outright death and eradication of wild magic as well! He has no interest in conquering our world, not necessarily- Just in bringing his over so he can kill off the final source of magic that manages to elude his control.

         Any imperialism may come as a natural byproduct of this type of crossover, but it’s not what Belos specifically intends from the fusion- So in a way, he wasn’t lying when he said that it wasn’t his plan to conquer the human world. 

        Belos didn’t say it’d NEVER be his plan… Just that this specific goal doesn’t involve that, not necessarily. Plus, he’d argue that any conquest would come fully as a means of self-defense, which… Would not be wrong either, because there’d definitely be humans who’d reject the society that Belos would bring in, and seek to eradicate and/or control it for themselves too!

         Once the Day of Unity’s crossover ensues, it seems the only magical liability that Belos would have to worry about is… Unbound biological witches, witches who DO have a bile sac, but aren’t under Belos’ control! Hence why he stresses to his coven heads;

         “The larger your covens grow, the more power we have to unite our realms, where the worthy shall inherit a utopia free of wild magic.”

         It’s possible Belos plans to use his coven bindings as a means of powering whatever magic he needs to pull this crossover off- I’ve speculated before on the demon realm’s solar system forming a glyph combo to do this, but it’s not out of the question that Belos would need a little extra power for such a massive event. 

        Perhaps Belos intends to drain the unused magic of every bound witch- After all, about 8/9ths of every bound witch’s magic is sealed away, presumably unused… So to Belos and his coven heads, they’re not really depriving anyone of anything by draining that unused magic?

         Especially if witches’ magic can still replenish over time anyway (unless you’re cursed), plus spreading the individual cost that each witch will have to fork over for the Day of Unity, across more witches, is arguably the moral thing to do anyway! 

        Hence why coven bindings are necessary, not just to fuel the Day of Unity, but to also remove the final liability that Belos would need to deal with. Ideally, Belos wants every witch bound before the Day of Unity, so he won’t have to worry about any biological witch when the crossover occurs…

         But at the same time, I doubt it’s strictly necessary- So even if it’s ideal, Belos is obviously going to go ahead with his crossover if there are still unbound witches. He can still deal with them later… They might have a bigger world to escape out into, which is why he stresses this be done sooner, rather than later, when witches are more confined to a smaller space and easier to find- But Belos still ultimately wins, one way or the other.

         Belos’ plan and Day of Unity is unimaginably grandiose, horrifying, and worst of all… Makes so much sense, it connects everything together in a reasonable way! Though it only makes sense from a viewer’s speculative perspective, and in-universe from the perspective of Belos, for the kinds of goals he’s looking for of course. 

        From a general and moral perspective this plan is completely nuts and terrible, but in terms of what Belos is actually trying to accomplish, a society where magical is truly bound… (Albeit not an actual ‘utopia’ like he claims), I hate to say it but this works perfectly, and that’s terrifying! Unfortunately, it seems this fucker does know EXACTLY what he’s doing, very much! And Belos is batshit nuts.

        And there’s a good chance that somebody in this meeting is very understandably not enthused with Belos’ plan, even outright intimidated, and determined to stop it as a result...

[robininthelabyrinth]

Delight in Misery (ao3) - part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8 (interlude)

The Lotus Pier was a free and unrestrained place in comparison with the Cloud Recesses, and there was no similar prohibition on raising pets. This was a good thing, largely because Lan Wangji had recently started to think of his little found family primarily in animal metaphors.

It was, he concluded, because of the way Mo Xuanyu followed Jiang Cheng around like an imprinted duckling, with stars in his eyes and an unfortunate tendency to try to emulate his actions while possessing exactly none of the temperament required to pull any of it off.

Indeed, watching him wheezing his way through a threat to break Jin Ling’s legs was a sight worth seeing, especially with Lan Sizhui patting him on the back and encouraging him when he temporarily got stuck stuttering on the word ‘legs’.

Jiang Cheng, for all his faults and imperfections, could be terrifying when he wished to be, the blood of the battlefields of the Sunshot Campaign forever impressed upon his bones; with Zidian to hand, he could look commanding and fearsome, decisive and harsh, and with his sharp looks and sharper scowl, he cut a fine picture - even if Lan Wangji knew the truth, that behind all that sharpness was the soul of a grumpy marshmallow.

Mo Xuanyu, with his wild thatch-like hair that couldn’t be controlled no matter their joint efforts and even wilder and far more questionable taste in appearance, couldn’t hope to match him, and really ought to stop trying.

Naturally, Jin Ling looked about as convinced about the threats as he ever was when Jiang Cheng said it, meaning of course that he didn’t care one whit, but despite their initial concerns, he took to Mo Xuanyu quite well. Lan Wangji was initially puzzled by it, given their conflicting personalities, but Jiang Cheng insightfully (for once) pointed out that it was most likely that Jin Ling was willing to forgive quite a lot in exchange for having another person dressed in Lanling Jin gold around to make him feel less awkward about it.

The two of them together were two little goldfinches strutting around in a sea of purple – or, perhaps more accurately, two golden roly-poly puppies bounding around, tails wagging, trying to befriend the Jiang sect’s army of sleek haughty purple cats. They were accompanied, of course, by a small, gentle crane with a most un-Lan-like taste for spicy fish with radishes and absolutely no head for water travel.

(They were working with Lan Sizhui on that. He lived in the Jiang sect now; he couldn’t spend his whole life being seasick!)

“What does that make you, then?” Jiang Cheng asked when Lan Wangji – after incessant prodding – mentioned his thoughts on the subject of their growing nest. “Master Rabbit?”

Lan Wangji glared, but didn’t object to the characterization; regardless of his personality, there was good reason to make the association. This was largely because Lan Xichen had recently embarked on a mission to capture the rabbits Lan Wangji had been – not raising, precisely, because pets were forbidden in the Cloud Recesses, but feeding on occasion when he had the time. He had brought them to Lan Wangji’s new “residence” at the Lotus Pier as a housewarming gift.

(Lan Wangji had no intention of moving out of Wei Wuxian’s bedroom, of course, but Jiang Cheng had long ago exercised his authority as sect leader to clear out the rooms just beyond it to create a small additional courtyard for him, in which he could exercise and meditate without being too far from the main quarters of the Jiang sect leader. As a result, the only change involved in his new, public, and above-board decision to reside in the Louts Pier was adding a new entranceway to make it appear as though they lived in separate albeit adjoining houses rather than living together in just one. Of course, it being the Lotus Pier, the new entranceway involved constructing not only a gate but a new bridge…)

“What exactly are we supposed to do with a bunch of rabbits?” Jiang Cheng had demanded at the time, staring down at them - there were rather more than Lan Wangji had remembered there being, but he supposed that was the nature of rabbits.

“I have no idea,” Lan Xichen had replied, smiling broadly. “But Wangji likes them.”

Lan Wangji had pretended that neither of them existed, and also that he was urgently needed elsewhere.

Later, Jiang Cheng had cornered him, demanding an explanation or else the rabbits would be sent down to the kitchens to be repurposed, and Lan Wangji had reluctantly confessed that they were from the burrow first established by the two wild rabbits Wei Wuxian had caught for him all those years ago.

Naturally there was no more talk of repurposing after that, and three sets of rabbit coops – far more than the rabbits Lan Wangji actually possessed required – mysteriously appeared in his small courtyard the next day.

“Wouldn’t want the stupid things to drown,” Jiang Cheng had grumbled when confronted with the evidence of his sentimentality. “If they attacked your garden and tried to burrow down they’d only hit water, and then where would we be? Awash in bunny corpses, that’s where, and that’s just unsanitary. I have a duty as sect leader to preserve the public health, you know.”

Lan Wangji had initially had some difficulty determining what type of animal Jiang Cheng was. He was as prickly as a porcupine, as standoffish as a hedgehog, as fickle as a cat, as graceful and vicious as an angry goose…

Recently, however, Lan Wangji had met a merchant from the south who had been selling a type of bird he called zishuiji, or purple swamphens – the merchant claimed that they were descended from the famous zhanniao, the poisonfeather zhen bird noted for their purple bellies, scarlet beaks, and deadly venom. Although Lan Wangji was moderately certain that the man was exaggerating for the sake of a sale, he had found himself compelled to purchase several sets to house in one of the empty rabbit coops, now moved to be placed in the main courtyard, nominally to be nearer to the waterways but mostly so that they’d be easily accessible to everyone - and, of course, to subtly harass Jiang Cheng.

It turned out that zishuiji could apparently be treated in much the same way as chickens. They were highly adaptable, but thrived best near water; they were generally shy around humans, but vicious in defending their territory, capable of biting and mobbing when provoked; and they preferred to raise their eggs with company –

Truly, he had found the right bird for Jiang Cheng.

(Not to mention the euphonious imagery of a purple hen strutting around with its purple lighting, zishuiji with zidian...truly, a picture meant for the ages. Lan Wangji determined at once to make a painting of it and insist Jiang Cheng hang it on some wall. Maybe even one of the ones in the main hall, where strangers could see.)

“Some of these are getting used for food,” Jiang Cheng insisted with a glare. “Some of the rabbits, too. There are no rules against the killing of livestock here, you hear me?”

Mo Xuanyu fell in love with them immediately – Jiang Cheng’s theory was that he was entranced by their iridescent feathers, while Lan Wangji’s view was that he recognized the innate Jiang Cheng-ness of them – and quickly took charge of their care, although Lan Sizhui and Jin Ling routinely assisted in collecting eggs.

Jiang Cheng reluctantly admitted, after some time, that the purchase had been a good one, if only because it served to settle their little awkward duckling into place, finally allowing Mo Xuanyu some sense of stability, as if having some type of small duty for which he was responsible was all he needed to believe that he wouldn’t be forced back to Lanling or to Mo village, his original place of origin, which he somehow feared even more than the backstabbing snakepit of Koi Tower.

(“You need to stop calling him a duckling,” Jiang Cheng said, quivering with laughter. “Do you know that could also mean…no, I’m not saying it. Anyway, he’s such an impressionable brat. Did you see what he did with that make-up he bought? He really does look a bit...”

From this, Lan Wangji inferred that the nickname was both extremely apt, extremely unfortunate, and had permanently stuck.)

In fact, despite initial concerns, it had been surprisingly comfortable to bring Mo Xuanyu into their lives at the Lotus Pier.

He was grateful and happy to be there, which helped; Lan Sizhui was welcoming, and Jin Ling somewhat reluctantly accepting, each for their own reasons, which helped more.

Best of all, he was at just the right age to be a regular disciple, and the current Jiang sect was especially welcoming to outsiders, having been cobbled together from a wide range of previously rogue cultivators and the small handful of survivors of the previous sect’s massacres. It improved Mo Xuanyu’s mood tremendously to be around boys and girls his own age, doing the same thing as them, without the weight of Lanling Jin’s expectations on his shoulders even if he sometimes wore their colors.

“He’s never going to be the most martially inclined,” Jiang Cheng opined after a small period of observation. “But he might make a decent administrator.”

Lan Wangji glanced at him sidelong in silent question, since Mo Xuanyu had not displayed any especially notable scholastic talents either. He had started cultivating fairly late, although obviously not as late as Jin Guangyao, but he lacked the other man’s genius for organization and management. Moreover, while his studies did admittedly exceeded the low bar set in Lan Wangji’s mind by Nie Huaisang’s miserable performance, that was a very low bar indeed.

(Nie Huaisang wasn’t stupid, he reminded himself once again. He was in fact extremely clever. And yet, even knowing what he knew, it was so easy to forget…)

“He’s kind and thoughtful of the well-being of others,” Jiang Cheng said, averting his gaze and pretending his cheeks weren’t tinting red. “Calligraphy and math, people skills, that can all be learned, but at least he has the important part down…I told you to stop doing that.”

Lan Wangji ignored him and continued to smile.

“Freak,” Jiang Cheng muttered, then shook his head. “I can’t believe anyone actually listens to you. Least of all me!”

Lan Wangji rolled his eyes. That part was Jiang Cheng’s own fault – he’d been using Lan Wangji as a sounding board more or less from the beginning, and started making him do some of his paperwork as soon as he’d been regularly awake for more than a shichen at a time under the barely plausible claim that it was good for him to exercise his hands. Now that Lan Wangji was officially out of seclusion, Jiang Cheng had promptly shoveled even more work at him – despite the fact that they were supposedly at each other’s throats.

The Jiang disciples that had not been in the loop – most of them, to Lan Wangji’s mild surprise – adjusted quickly, especially after they noticed the long-suffering expressions on the faces of Jiang Cheng’s immediate deputies. They had remained wary for a while, possibly expecting Lan Wangji to seek to implement the Lan sect rules at any moment, but after a time he had managed to win their confidence through his efficient administration and respect for their customs.

He did…rather a lot, actually. He reviewed the sect’s accounts along with Jiang Cheng, managed certain negotiations, oversaw the continuing reconstruction efforts, reviewed submitted proposals –

All things that the Lan sect did as well, but which had never come to him before. Lan Wangji suspected that in many cases, they did not even come to his brother or his uncle, who were nominally in charge of such things; the Lan sect disdained such worldly affairs, while the Jiang sect embraced them.

Although while he was on the subject of being above worldly affairs, it occured to him that he had not had an opportunity to take Bichen out recently, and it would be good to do so. He would need to come up with some excuse to insist on Jiang Cheng accompanying him for a night hunt sometime soon, some reason that would stand up to scrutiny from the outside.

As for convincing Jiang Cheng himself, however, that would be no problem.

“We are going night-hunting soon,” he informed Jiang Cheng, who looked appalled by the very thought.

“You’re joking, right?” he demanded. “Do you know how much work we have to do? The yearly update with the dyer’s guild is –”

“Not for another two months, and preparation typically takes only two weeks.”

“Reconstruction –”

“Does not require constant supervision at this stage.”

“The – there’s training –”

Lan Wangji attempted to convey his feelings on the validity of that excuse entirely through his facial expression, and it must have worked because Jiang Cheng crumbled at once, grumbling to himself.

“Who’ll we leave the children with?” he tried. “Especially with Xuanyu being so new – oh, all right. It’s weak and I know it, you don’t have to give me that judgmental look of yours.”

“If Jiang Wanyin believes that his skills have gotten so rusty that he would be unable to keep up…”

“I’m going to break your legs,” Jiang Cheng hissed at him. “I’m going to – to – oh, wait, actually, there is a reason we can’t go just yet. We’re expecting honored guests!”

Lan Wangji arched his eyebrows.

“You wouldn’t have seen the report yet, it’s still on our desk,” Jiang Cheng said. “You know of the Baixue Temple, right?”

Lan Wangji looked askance, indicating that he had of course heard of the temple, a renowned place of learning, but that he presumed that that was not what Jiang Cheng meant and also that perhaps Jiang Cheng would like to get to the point at some time before their deaths from old age.

“Fuck you too,” Jiang Cheng said conversationally, having learned the nuances of Lan Wangji’s expressions by now. “It was attacked recently, and rumor has it that it was Xue Yang that did it. Yes, the same Xue Yang who did the Chang clan massacre, the one the Jin sect was protecting before they washed their hands of him.”

Lan Wangji frowned.

“They made it through with relatively minimal casualties,” Jiang Cheng assured him. “Out of luck, mostly – when Xue Yang disappeared before his trial, the Nie sect made sure word got out everywhere, and Lianfeng-zun, who might’ve quashed it, even helped spread them, instead. From what I understand, Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen returned to Baixue Temple to make sure it wouldn’t be attacked over their part in Xue Yang’s initial arrest, as it later turned out to be - truly, evil is mundane and predictable. They led the defensive efforts and saved many lives.”

Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen –

Lan Wangji had heard Jiang Cheng speak of them before, of course. Rogue cultivators of considerable fame, who had refused all offers to join any of the sects, major or minor, but instead professed a desire to start a cultivation school of the old-fashioned sort, valuing affinity and merit over blood relation.

Not that that was what had caught the attention of Lan Wangj, or of Jiang Cheng for that matter.

Rather, it was said that Xiao Xingchen was a disciple of Baoshan Sanren, the famous immortal that lived secluded on the mountain. That made him Wei Wuxian’s martial uncle, and both of them were shamelessly interested in all things relating even tangentially to Wei Wuxian, however indirectly.

Jiang Cheng had sent several invitations for a visit back when the Chang clan disaster had happened. None had been accepted, which was probably all for the best – he had had to stop inviting them on account of how they’d angered the Jin sect over the matter.

(It had caused Jiang Cheng no end of nightmares, the feeling of complicity in a massacre just like the one that had destroyed his own sect sending him into a spiral of self-hatred, questioning his own morality and righteousness, wondering if his ancestors were judging him and finding him wanting, wondering if Wei Wuxian was –

It had not been a good time, a thankfully temporary reversion back to the bad days closer to the start. But Jiang Cheng was better now.)

“Why accept an invitation now?” Lan Wangji asked.

“They’re planning on hunting him down, I think, and having learned a little bit from last time, they want to get as many allies on board as possible in advance,” Jiang Cheng said, and shook his head at the depressing need to account for worldly politics when seeking to live a righteous life. A lesson hard-learned, for both of them. “They wrote to me first, this time. In return, I plan to indicate that they are welcome to come to the Lotus Pier to try to convince me – we’ll agree to help them, of course, but it’ll be nice to share a meal with them. Maybe some stories.”

“Mm,” Lan Wangji said. “And entertainment, of course.”

Jiang Cheng looked at him.

“We should take them night-hunting,” Lan Wangji elaborated, and Jiang Cheng scowled at him.

“There are oxen less stubborn than you! Donkeys! Geese!”

Lan Wangji was not a goose. A crane, perhaps, like Lan Sizhui – gentle and graceful and well-educated, with a sharp beak that most people overlooked.

He suspected Jiang Cheng would argue instead for the goose.

“I will write to my brother,” he said, opting to change the subject. “Xue Yang is a sensitive subject for his sworn brothers, as you know. It would be best to prepare him should they resume their fight with each other.”

“Oh, that’s just what we need,” Jiang Cheng grumbled. “Lianfeng-zun and Chifeng-zun at each other’s throats again…did I tell you about the series of small but extremely irritating disasters that happened that time I was at Koi Tower? The room flooding, the too-thick incense, the – the thing with the cat –”

“I also recall you coming back from a night-hunt with Chifeng-zun with an expression suggesting that someone had put the fear of death into you, yes,” Lan Wangji said.

“It’s Chifeng-zun. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you avoiding any circumstances where he could have the same talk with you!”

Lan Wangji did not deny it. As he was not a sect leader, he could avoid such things with much greater ease than poor Jiang Cheng – who was glaring again.

“You should try harder to get along with him,” he remarked, and Jiang Cheng’s eyes narrowed even further. “You have many things in common –”

“Lan Wangji. You are, as A-Yuan’s father, permitted to set up as many playdates for him as you’d like. You are not permitted to do the same for me.”

Lan Wangji nodded, indicating that would give that all the consideration it deserved, namely none.

Jiang Cheng made a sound not unlike the whistling of a boiling pot.

Lan Wangji decided that a triumphant but timely retreat was appropriate.

[vickyvicarious]

Hello! I love your posts about both of the Leverage series. What role does Breanna as a Maker fulfill in the team?

First off, sorry I took so long to answer this. I was holding off until I watched all the episodes because I wanted to see how much more was or wasn't done with 'Maker' Breanna.

And the short answer is? Not much.

But the long answer... well, to sum it up, that might change pretty soon in the next part of the season, and it's actually pretty character-based that we don't see it yet. Let me explain my reasoning.

Breanna tries to sell herself as a team member like this:

Breanna: "I'm not as good a hacker as you."

Hardison: "Damn straight."

Breanna: "But hacking's kinda old-school anyway, it's like any script kiddie can do that. I'm really better with, like, the social media part. Or like, drones, physical builds, you know, like... relevant skills."

So. First off, in this scene she's clearly trying to make herself sound valuable to the team. She doesn't want to just present herself as 'Hardison, but not as good.' She acknowledges that he's a better hacker but then tries to point out her own skills that could be useful, and the 'relevant' dig is just a joke because she's nervous and also he's her sibling so she's gotta.

No one really responds, so she asks them to give her a shot, to let her in because she found them and she's earned this. Hardison, though, is still stuck on her calling him a "script kiddie":

Hardison: "S- I'm s- scrip-script who? Who you calling script kiddie?" [to Eliot, standing behind Breanna] "Bruh, script kiddie? You hear this?"

Eliot: "Hey. Head chef." [pauses, tilts his head towards Breanna] "Chopping lettuce."

I bring this up because I think it's pretty relevant to what we see from Breanna. She literally just tried to present herself as different from Hardison, to emphasize her own skills in drones and social media manipulation. But the very first thing she hears is "head chef/chopping lettuce." Without the context of Eliot and Hardison's earlier conversation about Hardison being torn between his other work (that only he can do) and needing to let go and delegate some stuff, all she's hearing here is Eliot essentially calling her the less experienced cook. Same job really, just not as good at it.

We don't see much reaction on her face to this line. But throughout the rest of the season, a recurring aspect of her characterization is that she gets frustrated or disheartened when people shut her ideas down, and she tends to be less confident in herself/hesitant about offering ideas or surprised by getting praise.

She tries to prove herself quickly in the Rollin' on the River Job by going for the pearl despite being told not to, and then gets very upset and resentful when she's confined to the van for the rest of the con. Thing is, she was trying to prove herself by demonstrating Parker skills - skills which Breanna does not have at this point.

She's also compared negatively to Hardison in I think the same episode or maybe the next one? When she finds the shell corporation and is all proud of herself and then the team just kinda goes "even Harry coulda done that." They're not mean about it, but Breanna clearly isn't going as deep into the research as they like or are used to. Similarly, Eliot complains about having to apply for a job instead of just having it given to him and changes his backstory on the fly when Breanna really isn't ready. She doesn't have all the backups built like Hardison, she isn't able to change them as fast as he can. Again, there's a scene where he left her manuals and she kinda skimmed them but failed at something that would have been explained in the manual if she'd read it all.

She showed up wanting to be an addition to the team, to fill a different role from Hardison. But he took that as the impetus to leave and do his own thing, meaning Breanna now feel like she has to fill his role. And it's not going super well at first because that's not what she's good at. Not that she's bad by any means - but the Leverage team is very used to Hardison, and they aren't slowing down enough for her, or aren't always clearly explaining what they want from her.

Also, they're planning their cons with two things in mind for her: a) her safety, and b) her doing tech. Parker tries to teach her thieving skills onscreen, and just generally be a mentor. They put Breanna in the van early on and hesitate to let her out too much until they're more confident in her skills. This isn't helped by the whole pearl fiasco, obviously, but in general, they build plans around her being with someone else guiding her at first, or her being back at base doing Hardison's old job. Partly because they see that as safer but also because that's just, what they know to plan for.

Breanna is someone who feels bad about herself pretty easily, in my opinion. She gets discouraged. Eliot's early comment and Hardison leaving was enough to push her into the reckless pearl grab to try and impress the team with her skills. When that backfires, she gets a lot less bold about protesting a plan. Part of that comes from Harry's pep talk to her, as well. He encourages her to work as part of a team with the rest of the crew. And she basically takes that and throws herself into being what she thinks they want her to be.

Now, I'm not saying she never offers any ideas of her own. But it takes a while before she's very confident doing so, and it's not until the Card Game Job (which happens to be very emotionally significant for her personally) that she really tries to argue her point. (She repurposes her Halloween decorations to help the con the episode right before, but it's not quite the same situation.) And then she's still shut down. This is partially due to Parker's own hangups about being a mentor meaning she should always be the wiser one and not have to learn from her own student, and that does change over the course of the episode. But Breanna doesn't push super hard for Parker to use her notes at first, despite clearly wanting to. However, she does grow in confidence once her relevant knowledge starts being the key to figuring out the riddle. And at the end of the episode Parker makes a point of mentioning that Breanna's a good teacher.

The very next episode, she brings a drone to a job.

Now, sadly poor little Frodo the drone is killed basically instantly, but that timing seems pretty telling to me. The other incredibly important thing that happens that episode, is that Breanna opens up, at first to Eliot, and then to the rest of the team (minus Harry), about her past and her regrets and mistakes.

We never actually learn what those are, because the team tells her it doesn't actually matter to them. Eliot tells her directly that they don't need her to be Hardison. Parker goes a step further and says "All we need from you is to be exactly the person you are."

And I think that is the key. Breanna was trying really, really hard to show them that she's a worthwhile member of the team. She was trying to live up to their perceived expectations of her, trying to fill Hardison's shoes. And because they aren't familiar with any other skills of hers/don't often work with things like social media and drones, they don't make plans for those. Breanna needs to take the initiative to offer her own skills and ideas, because unlike Nate in the original show, Parker and Sophie don't have the same knowledge of everything Breanna is capable of. They put her in plans in ways they knew she'd be safe, and doing things they expected she could do. And it wasn't exactly wrong of them, but it didn't give her the opportunity to bring many of her own unique skills to the table.

Now, the Double-Edged Sword Job (where they tell her all this) is the second-to-last episode, and the finale is entirely focused on Sophie and the ghost of Nate. Breanna plays a relatively small role in that one, so we don't see instant payoff from this conversation. But I do believe that, now she's no longer carrying the yoke of 'being Hardison', we will see her feeling more confident in offering up her own skills. We will see them succeeded and her own ideas and techniques becoming something the rest of the team learns how to account for in planning cons.

The two things Breanna brags about at the beginning are social media and drones/physical builds. As of yet, we've seen her utilize social media once (to throw the rave in her first episode - when Hardison was still there), and a drone once (the episode after her knowledge was key to the con succeeding). The drone didn't work that time, but I hope to see more, and see more clever applications of whatever "social media manipulation" and "physical builds" even means, in the second half of the season.

(Granted, Hardison never fit fully into a box of just hacking in the first place, and I'm sure there will still be a lot of overlap with Breanna being the primary tech person, but I'm excited for more variety as well.)

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

Something continuing the doctor /arthur thing from yesterday, perhaps? Maybe the doc helping arthur get some way to move and they go barhopping while arthur critiques the bartenders and the doctor gets drunk enough to get a bit flirtier?

I'm sorry, I'm stealing your segway idea again, because I can't get over the mental image.

Warning: drinking

On with the fic!

--

"I do not believe this is really allowed, Doctor." Arthur frowned, drumming his fingers on his too-clean countertop. "But then again, I think it's rather too late to be saying that, yes?"

"Very much too late, my friend." The Doctor said as he finished using the sonic screwdriver to make the finishing touches on the hook up he had just performed. An old Follow-Me Artificial cart from the TARDIS' storage room had been repurposed to allow for Arthur to be able to leave his track.

It had been delicate work, taking two hours to properly disconnect the android without messing up his advanced systems, but the Doctor was clever. He was able to do all of this while keeping Arthur awake through it all to make sure that systems were operating once he made connections. It was a bit like open brain surgery, only this was happening on the torso of an android who looked very human.

"Alright, I think that should... do it!" The Doctor pocketed the sonic and stood up, smiling. "Give it a try!"

Arthur gently moved back, quick to fix his central balance systems to make sure he didn't tip over. He moved this way and that, trying out his new wheels, looking surprised at how he moved away from the bar, to the front.

"It is... not as fluid as my track, but it is a bit more chaotic, in a good way." Arthur noted and the Doctor was beaming with pride at this.

"Molto bene!" He held out his arm for Arthur to take. "Ready for a little bar hoppin'?"

"This sounds like it might not end well." Arthur commented.

"Ah, come on, have a little fun! Trust me, things will be fun!"

--

Arthur had found that he and the Doctor had very different definitions of the word 'fun'. But then again, Arthur never really experienced something like that, it wasn't part of his basic programming.

After locking up the bar, the Doctor had let Arthur around the space port, doing what he called 'window shopping' along the way to the nearest bar or pub. He seemed rather fascinated with some of the tackier shops, commenting on how much he loved 'little shops'.

The first bar they found was loud, obnoxious, and dreadfully crowded. Arthur couldn't help but feel rather jealous that such a place was doing so much better than his own, but people sacrificed class and quiet conversations for loud music and water-downed beers that probably tasted dreadful when you weren't drunk.

Not that Arthur could really taste them, nor could he get drunk. He hadn't tried, to be honest, but he didn't see any reason to do so. Arthur had let the Doctor order from the basic server droid at the bar, getting another fruity drink, seemed he liked sweet ones best.

The android himself had looked around at the selections, bothered by what they were selling. It was either very cheap (and sold at double or triple the worth), or complex drinks that were probably toxic to many of the species who were in the bar.

It had taken him two drinks (drunk by the Doctor) before he voiced his opinions aloud.

A living staff member escorted him and the Doctor out.

The next bar was clearly themed. 'Earth themed', the Doctor had noted, 'in all the worst ways, it seems'. He had visibly cringed as he looked at the dreadful decorations about the walls, but still went and order himself some drinks while Arthur stood next to him.

They had talked for a while, as the Doctor drank three more drinks. Arthur had not pointed out how he was sure the alcohol in those drinks was of a dreadful quality. Clearly, if the Doctor wished to get drunk, they could do it back at his bar, he could make the perfect drinks for the Doctor.

But the Doctor didn't seem to notice that Arthur wasn't pleased with the service droid behind the counter, who kept topping off the Doctor's drinks when he didn't seem to notice. Now, that was just terrible service, one should ask if the customer wished for another drink, not just assume.

"Doctor, I think we should go to another place." Arthur sighed.

"Hmmm...?" The Doctor's eyes looked a little glassy. "Whatcha mean?"

"You're being overcharged on the credit stick you've been using to pay for your drinks because the service droid is topping off your glass. By doing so, it is charging you for a 'new glass'."

The Doctor frowned, looking at his glass. "I was wondering why it seemed bottomless." He then scanned it with the sonic. "Yep, this is not Kolipian bottomless crystal. Welp! Let's try another one, I think the next one is, uhh... well, I think that one is a tiki bar! Could go for a pina colada!"

The Doctor slipped out of his seat and nearly fell over, but Arthur was quick to catch him. The Time Lord blinked, looking at Arthur, then gave him a rather goofy grin. "Oooh, you're a strong one, aren't you?"

"I am programmed for heavy lifting, if need be." Arthur replied.

The Doctor just continued to grin, and seemed to adjust Arthur's lapel. "Ready for another bar?"

"Yes, though after that, I fear you might need to take a break."

"Ah! We Time Lords have amazing resistance to alcohol!" The Doctor said as he got himself to his feet, but he still had to have Arthur help him, leading them to the next bar in the port.

The bartender looked human this time, and was clearly not synthetic life. She looked at Arthur funny and then frowned at the Doctor. "Oh great, more tourists." She grumbled, but then asked for their orders.

"I'll take your signature drink, please!" The Doctor said loudly.

"And a glass of water, please." Arthur replied, not for himself, but for the Doctor.

The bartender nodded, preparing a large, strange drink for the Doctor and then gave Arthur the glass of water. "Drink." He said to the Doctor, pushing the glass to him.

The Doctor looked at it, sipping from it. "Aww, it's sweet you're trying to help me out." He said, that grin was back.

"I am a professional." Arthur sniffed.

The smile didn't falter, and the Doctor turned to his drink, taking a long drink from it before he paused, setting it down. He frowned, smacking his lips, as if trying to study something.

"Is it not good?" Arthur asked, feeling a bit of strange pride in the idea of the drink being bad.

"It's... oh." The Doctor frowned, looking at the half-finished glass. "Ah, that's... that's ginger I taste."

"Ginger?"

"Can't, uh, can't really do well with ginger." The Doctor hiccuped, his cheeks a darker shade of pink than they had been when he started getting a bit drunk.

"Ginger is rather popular in drinks around here, I guess because some species really like it." Arthur replied. "Are you allergic?"

"It makes me... drunk."

"You're already drunk."

"I was tipsy, I'm..." The Doctor rubbed at his face, giggling a bit. "Oooh, that was a lot of ginger, I think, uh, I think there was some in some of the other things I drank already."

He placed his head on his arms on the bartop, giggling still. Arthur scanned him quickly, ah, yes, he did appear to be quite drunk. "Doctor, I think we should stop with your bar hopping idea, you should get some water in and maybe something to eat to help with what you drank."

The Doctor looked at him, smiling brightly, his eyes bright yet glassy. "You are just... such a sweet guy, Arthur, worryin' about me an' all that."

He reached out, touching Arthur's cheek with just the lightest touch. "Gosh, you're really pretty."

"Thank you? I'm meant to have a face that makes people calm and trustful of my services, to know that they will have an enjoyable evening having drinks from someone like me."

"That's a good idea... I think your face, trusted you the moment I saw you, good guy, I thought! Pretty guy! With pretty camera eyes, ooh, never seen an android with such eyes like yours, bet you're the prettiest of all your models."

"I do believe I am the only one of my model, actually."

"Ooooh, that makes it better. A unique face, all your own." The Doctor moved, leaning closer. He seemed to be trying to fix Arthur's bow tie again, before he frowned, resting his hands on the bartender's shoulders instead. "Wanna, uh, wanna lay down now."

"We shall get you back to my bar then." Arthur motioned to the bartender to pay. Once that was taken care of, and having the Doctor drink more from the water glass, he helped the Time Lord back to his bar.

Once inside, he helped the Doctor to a booth to sit at it, then went to get another glass of water. When Arthur returned, he found the Doctor toying with a lock of his hair, eyes on the android. "Whatcha gonna do when I leave?"

"I'll probably have you return me to my track before you leave and then I shall return to work." Arthur frowned, setting the glass down.

The Doctor took the water, sipping it, and frowned. "Don't want you to do that, you're wastin' away here, Arthur."

"It is my job to be here, Doctor. I was built to serve in this location."

"Don't want you to be forgotten, to be alone... I want you to come with me."

Arthur blinked. "Come... with you?"

"To see the stars! To see, to see... beyond the port! To be able to do more than just move about on some tracks behind a counter! You look like... the curious type, who deserves more, who deserves to have questions answered, to ask questions to learn more."

The android didn't know what to say to that. "I don't..."

"Run away with me." The Doctor sat up, his hand on Arthur's shoulder again.

"Run away with you?" The android found himself asked, his voice quiet, and he swore he almost sounded... hopeful?

He knew better than to question things, to go beyond his programming. He had heard what happened to robots and androids who went against protocol, against their jobs, they were scrapped and forgotten, or completely changed from who they had been with a whole new chip system.

Arthur... hated the idea of being different. He had come to like the person he shaped himself as from his time being active, he feared being forgotten or destroyed.

But the idea of seeing beyond these walls? To no longer having to wait for the doors to open for a customer who will sit and stay?

It was a dangerous thing, to run away. "I don't think I can do that."

"Mmmm..." The Doctor frowned, moving to rest his head on his arms. "Will you think about it?" He asked, sounding tired.

Arthur wanted to say no, but instead he said "I shall think it over, yes."

This seemed to bring a smile to the Doctor's lips. "Good, I hope you say yes. Someone as lovely as you shouldn't be forgotten." He said, his voice trailing off as he started to fall asleep.

Arthur wasn't sure what to say to that, so he decided not to. He left the glass where it was and went back to the bar, to consider the Doctor's proposal.

--

Ginger making the Doctor drunk is such a weird fact, but then again, pain killers are a literal poison to them, so... *shrugs*

Not as flirty as I originally planned, but the Doctor really does find Arthur pretty (because the writer does).

Oh, and a Follow-Me Artificial is a thing from one of the audio stories that David read, it was a silly reference to one of my favorite stories.

[goji-pilled]

MK-S: Dark Souls Update from today. (This may be a long one, written as I was playing, so it may get pseudo-Candeloro_Journal in places.)

Dukes archives, I know I have to die to Seath at least once.

I’m in a prison cell and Seath bothered to make a key to my cell.

What the heck? Cthulhu slugs? Oh, they do not like fire.

Interesting, a hollow priestess.

…the slugs were once people…what was Seath trying to accomplish? They were crying. They have been laid to rest.

Where is the flipping exit? Screw it, googling a map-oh wait there was that door at the very top. Yep, that’s the way out. Glad I followed that snake guard when the alarm first sounded; I figured, “okay, if an enemy is ignoring me it’s either bugged, or something other than me is it’s priority, and the latter I need to check out.”

Went and got the old witches ring. Did you know that you can use that to talk to the daughter of chaos? Had to trade in a wearable bug lamp, but I’ve already got a lantern and the cast light spell. Wearing a head lamp would be nice, but this was the only way to get the ring for this character.

Struggling a bit with direction in the dukes archives, trying to find a way up to that channeler…died from fall damage trying to reach a chest. I’ll equip the fall damage spell and try again.

Hold up. That staircase to the channeler was NOT pointed that way before. Right? Unless…I’ll need to test to confirm, but are these stair gears linked? Looks like it. And I made it to the bookshelf chest. That’s actually some pretty clever game design; the chest encourages you to jump off the spinning staircase and if you die, you’re likely to have set the channeler staircase into a position you can then use.

Found a mimic dropped symbol of avarice (mimic headpiece that’s both serpent rings in one, but only stacks with the bonus souls ring while it drains your health.)

Ah man, those Cthulhu experiments drop humanity, that’s sad; despite everything she desperately clung to her humanity. Oh man, he had a fire keeper locked up down here. (And here I was thinking I’d need to kill the two non-firelink firekeepers for another one. Only right before the gwyn fight of course.)

I see it now. How to see the invisible paths (I knew there would be some in advance.) But now I see how people were to figure it out on their own, before even the hardcoded message on one of the earliest invisible bridges: it’s the snow. The snowflakes will appear to shatter on an invisible bridge.

This why knowledge is power; the snow has now gone from decorative, to informative. I don’t even have to drop prism stones to confirm…I still will though, I’m paranoid until I find the bonfire. (Image from further than current narration:)

And remember what I said about the idea of an entity turning out to just be part of a species yesterday? Well, turns out the butterfly was part of a species. I knew Seath made it, I just didn’t know he made more than one.

Lack of snow saved my butt just now, plus my use of prism stones: there’s a broken invisible bridge that has just enough for you to see you stand on a platform before you’d fall to your death. Good enough for one prism stone, not enough for two stones.

“Imminent fall” my foot.

Now that is frightening, skull oysters.

Oh, they drop twinkling titanite. And purging stones…and I just realized this is what happens to Seath’s rejected subjects; repurposed to feed these things. Or maybe these are walking refineries, for these rare materials.

Just googled and there is no closer bonfire. Well, that’s unfortunate. Well, time to see if what I have (left) is enough for the fight.

Uh…I just first-timed Seath by running up close and spaming black flames and combustion against his tentacle. (Granted, it was with dusk crown, dragon magic ring, and max level flame hand). I was somehow in a position where his first (and I think only) crystal attack didn’t hit me as I was burning him alive. And I was wearing the silver ring, so now I get two levels. (Is it normal to be level 83 by this point, nor counting the levels I’m about to get?) I’ve been spreading my levels out, so while I only have a single stat at 30, and then a split of the rest in mid-twenties to upper tens. So while I may be a true master of none, I am at least adequate with most, in terms of gear/spell level requirements.

New bonfire where he died, and it’s warpable and the twinkling clams respawn. New farming spot found.

…and just first timed Nito, using Homing Crystal Soul Mass a few times. He did get in a few hits on me. And was wearing the silver ring again. No idea how much he alone provided but I’m now at just over 100K souls. Time for more intelligence and/or vitality.

And now I’m in a painting. I like how I also got a drop for painting guards sword; mainly because if I didn’t know ahead of time, I’d still remember when I got the button prompt on the painting from when I first came here, and it makes a player think “why does a painting need guards?”

What the flip! Are those giant hearts on their heads? As their heads!? Okay, seems like this world is subject to artistic interpretation; not good when you’re in it and not the artist.

And not every raven thing is as chill as the asylum taxi…looks like some kind of dragon on the bridge. Found something for removing spider eggs from my head. I pity anyone who found out about those things after they killed a certain NPC. I didn’t though, but I also haven’t been grabbed by an egg bearer.

NO! I lost the drop to get the spare ring! I had to quit and reload after killing the guy because I got stuck and his loot was in front of me but just too high up!…*Deep Sigh* Oh well…I’m doing fine without the ring right now. And it will drop another in NG+ when I reach that point. First time I’ve had a “character can’t get out of spot no matter where I turn” glitch. At least I kept the souls. Yeah, I’m feeling better now.

Oh neat, is that part where the light enters in the skele-wheel room from the sunken floor above? Also, loving Havel’s Armor. I’m starting to realize stamina damage likely depends on how high/low your armor is, so as long as the angle’s good, I lose next to no stamina. This is, of course, at the cost of speed, but his ring and the rusty ring (you were right, this is a life saver,) are serving me well. Plus I rearranged all my rings by groups: bite and plate rings together, dragon rings ordered attack, duration, silence, with the fog ring below that. Lava, rusted, and Havel together as my “traveling” rings, etc.

I’m worried about the lack of dragon on this bridge to the fog gate…boss is chill, got the actual ring trade stuff from a corpse by the exit to the world. So that worked out in the end.

Okay, back into the painting, all the guards had respawned…actually, I think I read that all covenants don’t like it if you hurt her…I’ll save her for before Gwyn.

In the Great Hollow and so glad I have the curse bite ring; I may have seven tablets, but it’s still a hassle with insta death, at least now I know where these gecko things got into the depths from…Made it to the bottom alive. Never mind it goes deeper. I wonder if this tree has any connection to the witch of Izalith. She turned into a tree, and th-actually, is this one of those ancient trees from the opening or by Nito’s lair? (Not questions I’m looking for answers for, but I think it’s fun to get someone’s mental wheels turning with possibilities.)

Mushroom kids are not passive here. Good to know in a place with a long drop. And they have a lot of health and low soul drop. Definitely a different breed/strain of fungus down here. And I was wearing the wrong dragon ring, which doesn’t change what I said about their health, but didn’t help my limit pyromancies.

At Ash lake. And it looks like this was a giant tree after all. There’s a decent ladder path connected to a branch on the first lizard den of the tree. Leftmost one when you approach the den opening from the front. I was hoping to make a shortcut by following the ladders, but knowing the existing shortcut is just as good. Hydra is dead, took a few times, but I found the bonfire first.

Lot of dragon scales here…I stand upon a graveyard. A graveyard of ash. Gwyn struck the great dragons down to earth. Nito killed the exposed creatures. And then the witches burned them all away. Anor Lando is built atop the charred ruins of the old world.

Some sort of grove-*shocked silence*…

…They missed one…

Got the abyss father down to half health; I’m going with a tank strategy: Havel armor minus head and shield, open with chaos flame, and enter the fight having used iron skin: he could barely touch me. If this doesn’t work out I’ll have to go to plan B: “Git Gud” (aka “practice makes perfect”) at reading his attack patterns, knowing when/how to dodge/block, use that amulet, and when it’s safe to heal or attack.

New idea; remove Havel ring for dragon ring of longer sorcery, to prolong iron skin effects. And that has gotten him down to 2/3-1/4 of his health.

Alright, spent some time farming and grinding out shield upgrades and souls. (I’m currently at level 93 now.) Father of the Abyss is still beating me, but with this heavy armor and iron skin strategy, I can get him down about 2/3rds of his health. We’ll see if that gets any better tomorrow. I’m off to bed. Have a good day Kechi and everyone else reading!

PS: while I may barely be able to move, I gotta say, this looks epic:

You said you found Sif right?

One way to make the fight easier is getting yourself a human form before starting the fight, and then find the symbol that is somewhere in the boss arena (yes you have to trigger the fight first) to summon Sif with so he'll fight with you.

I did that in my NG+ run when I fought Manus and he ended up focusing purely on Sif until he was defeated, and by that time I had donr quite a bit of damage without using barely any Estus Flasks.

So perhaps that'll help! Unless you wanna beat him all on your own first, which is fine too.

[jadelotusflower]

Robin Hood Rewatch: 2x06 For England!

Almost at the halfway point of the season, and things are really ramping up - Allan is transitioning to team Castle, Robin is in full blown solider (assassin) mode, and Marian is (sigh) yet again under the threat of sexual assault. And of course, more silly disguises, but perhaps the less said about those hats the better!

Another opener, another one of the Sheriff’s contractors murdered.

How did the gang find Allan’s secret stash? They got to it first, so they couldn’t have just been tracking him.

The Pact is being signed for King Richard’s birthday, which is the 8 September - we find out later that Robin’s birthday is 14 October, which means the events of 2x06-2x012 take place over less than a month. I mean, if any of the writers cared about such things, which I suspect they didn’t. But from memory, it doesn’t seem preposterous - things are moving quickly as tensions are escalating. It also means that we’re a year on from the events of 1x08, which also took place on Richard’s birthday. It kind of works, even if they are living in Sherwood, the Land of Endless Summer.

Djaq’s face this entire scene. She’s the only one who doesn’t hurl accusations at Allan, just gives a sad shake of the head.

And...Robin’s off on his own again.

Marian’s new wardrobe, Guy clearly doing his shopping at the peasant woman’s Laura Ashley store we saw in 2x01. Other than the blue dress she’s holding, I don’t think she wears any of these, does she?

Guy makes it clear he’s actively pursuing her again, the suspicion of a few episodes ago conveniently forgotten.

Marian’s hairpins: useful as weapons and lockpicks.

Robin’s disguises: once again, a hood and an accent. “Be meek and obedient, my child” with a wink is cute, however.

I actually love the dress Marian’s wearing in these scenes, but we never really get a good look at it.

I wish I had more to say about Edward, but I don’t. He’s just there.

And it’s Wedge Antilles! Commander of Rogue Squadron, Red Leader, General of the New Republic himself. Denis Lawson great in this role.  I also very much enjoy him as Captain Foster in Hornblower.

Alright, so Robin at this point still doesn’t know that Roger of Stoke was intercepted (aka killed). I actually appreciate that this is a plot point that has been ongoing for several episodes.

Much has been in this outfit for most of the season (but this is the first really good shot of it) - it’s actually Robin’s vest that he wore early in season 1, let out a little at the sides. I really love the attention to detail here, in that the gang would of course be repurposing clothes, and that it’s Much in particular that would be getting Robin’s hand me downs.

It’s nice when we get to see how clever Will is - forward thinking about signing the gang up as musicians and making the instruments.

“They’re just bells.” John’s face! Then the payoff with the guards - “bells, mate” (ring ring).

Allan’s still got a bit of grey in his costume - he hasn’t fully made the switch yet. It does seem that Allan’s initial plan was to flee with his hoard, but when the gang found it first, he chooses to go to Guy for employment rather than leave Nottingham.

Sorry this is an image heavy post, but John’s tag is completely visible in this scene! Where was the continuity editor? Where was the director? I mean, it’s not craft service coffee cups, but jeez.

Is this the first time we learn that Marian’s mother’s name was Kate? Or that she’s even been mentioned?

Sussex. Sussex. Sussex? Sussex. SUSSEX!

For all of Guy’s talk earlier that he’s gaining more power, he can’t save Marian, and he can’t save Allan - his “power” exists only in exercising Vaisey’s will, he has none of his own.

I will however give him credit for the instinct to try and get Marian out of the castle - perhaps the only honourable thing he’s done so far, in that he thinks of her welfare before his own in arranging her escape without any promise of reward.

But...of course it doesn’t last. Now, Vaisey clearly has some kind of psychological hold over Guy, and the scene between them is incredibly creepy, as Guy seems almost hypnotised while Vaisey invades his personal space and gives slow deliberate orders. He makes no threats, his words are actually quite benign, but there’s a sinister undertone to the whole thing.

But still, Guy ultimately chooses Vaisey over Marian - as he will do again at the end of the season. He allows Marian to be chained at the wrists and taken to Winchester - and it’s interesting that Vaisey leaves him in control of this. At this point, Guy still could have facilitated Marian’s escape, Vaisey isn’t there watching to make sure he does what he wants, he let’s Guy make the choice, he’s so certain of his own control over Guy. Vaisey is such an astute judge of character (well, men - he always underestimates women), and master manipulator.

Meanwhile, Robin’s also making the choice not to confide in or seek help from his gang, instead taking up the role of assassin himself, and there’s a lot going on in that. We know Robin is the kind of commander who will always throw himself into the fray first, put his life on the line before those of his followers, and in a way it’s reminiscent of 1x02 where Robin made sure his men were safe on the other side of the portcullis before fighting off the remaining guards single-handedly. But we’re a way from half-showoff, half-deathwish Robin now - this choice is calculated (but still reckless). He sees his role as captain to protect his soliders, not the other way around, and he thinks its a suicide mission and doesn’t want to risk their lives.

He tells Edward “I have no choice” but at this point Robin has lots of choices. Because he should tell the gang what is going on, not leave them in the dark, he should seek their counsel, and accept their help. But he doesn’t, because for all the justification he’s cloaking himself in, he knows it’s a terrible thing and while he’s willing to bear the burden (after likely doing much worse in the Holy Land), he’s not willing to let the gang bear it with him. But also - he’s not willing to let the gang talk him out of it either, which they would certainly try to do. He’s in war mode and his only objective is to eliminate the enemy the most effective way he knows how - to turn off the humanity in himself and let the solider take over.

Allan, Guy, and Robin are again falling back on their old patterns - Allan to talk his way into the most advantageous position possible (and survive), Guy cede control to Vaisey (and further his ambition), and Robin to act recklessly (and protect his King). All of these cycles are self-destructive, and only really Allan will be able to break free from his by the end of the season.

Not the face of a rational man. If he’d talked things over with the gang first, things might have been different.

There are lines of Robin’s letter that are (inadvertent) foreshadowing - “but most of all for the life, for the love we could not have” and “I’ll see you in heaven.” Debatable whether Robin genuinely believes the latter (given he’s about to commit some mortal sins without the opportunity to repent), or whether he says it for Marian’s comfort.

Very lucky Robin didn’t aim for anyone’s head - but Vaisey would know he would go for the heart, the most effective kill shot.

CONDENDER, READY? GLADITATOR, READY? 3...2...1...

Both Robin (righteous anger) and Allan (seething resentment) are being unreasonable here. Robin: “You don’t have to do this” - and do what instead, exactly? Allan: “You should have given me a second chance.” Well, he did. It’s Allan who swings first, and wins, thanks to Robin’s distraction at seeing Marian in chains - but he doesn’t go in for the kill swing, and I don’t think he would have, actually.

Tar and fire - weren’t we here three weeks ago?

First John disarms Guy with his quarterstaff, then distracts him with the bells, then hits him in the groin. What a legend.

It bothers me when they all tell Much to shut up and it’s played for laughs. Really, this scene should have been the gang giving Robin the what for about going off alone and making suicide-shaped plans without them, but it also makes sense they don’t want to rub salt in the wound.

A dark end to the episode, a sign of things to come.

[rivenchu]

A Curious Fish

AN: Credit for this AU goes to @mintyfrosty​ ~ 

Read the Copperight Merfolk AU post and this whole fic popped into my head as is. I may have changed a couple things to make fic-flow sense, but I hope you like it Minty! Thanks for letting me write it~  Lemme know if something is too far from your AU and not okay. :3  I’ll wider tag this / AO3 if source approved!

Summary: They say curiosity is bad for a cat and it’s true for Merfolk too.  Reginald was just curious about flotsam he saw during a storm. It was only natural to get a closer look. He didn’t mean to get stuck and he certainly didn’t mean to end up on dry land where none of his kind were allowed to go. 

A curious fish.

That's what everyone always called him. The elders always warned him to not be too curious, to not wander close to dry land, and more importantly never get near the the floating crafts that skimmed over the ocean. Remaining unseen from 'dry landers' was the safest choice for their colony.

He'd listened and never done any of those things, but.

But.

They never said anything about parts of the sailing ships.

Reginald watched the long stick and strange white flaps with it's many tentacles. The storm had ripped it off the adrift vessel and he followed it. It was alone, none of the beings on it (he never could see them well, they were a mystery) were nearby... long as he watched out for the tentacles he'd be fine.

Making up his mind he swam up to the far side and broke the surface. The rain didn't bother him, though he always wondered why it tasted different than regular water.

Reaching out he marveled at the texture. Slippery with strange bumps, but not slimy at all. Drifting closer he blinked at a hole and poked at it, had it been carved in? There were more leading up. Wandering further Reginald craned his neck to see how far they went. He couldn't see the end of the giant stick, but he almost could.

Just a little further.

Something curled around his tail.

Fear coiled like an eel as he ducked back underwater. He'd strayed too far up.

Just one tentacle, he could handle that. Everything would be fine.

Diving  deeper so the stick wouldn't hit him (storms made the ocean surface move so much), he unwound the coarse limb and sighed. That had been close. He should go.

Turning to look up at the strange object one last time, he could barely see it against the surface. He had wanted to look at it more, maybe if he had climbed on it he could have spent longer.

Something brushed his shoulder. Jerking back Reginald's eyes widened.  It was the connected multi-tentacle net. He hadn't gone that far had he? Was it the storm pushing it faster than he thought?

Twisting around he began to swim fast as possible back to the safety of the depths.

For a moment Reginald thought he made it.

He screamed as agony shot up his tail, swimming stalled. He floated dazed for a few seconds before the adrenaline kicked back in.

Wincing he glanced up at his tail, tangled again. Reaching over to yank at it he wished he didn't leave his cutter tool at home. This one was tighter, it wanted to hold. Sticking out his tongue to loosen the cord and ignore the pain he tried to work fast.

It wasn't fast enough.

He froze when he felt his back brush up against something. Looking up he realized he was drifting towards more tentacles. His tail seized up and refused to move with anything less than blinding agony.

Reginald was many things, witty and clever, curious and mischievous, but he was not known for his bravery.

Terror dulled the pain as he thrashed against the cursed coils drawing him in. He knew they weren't alive, but he could still die to them.

No one came when he called for help as the storm blew him further away from home.

Dread settled in as he grew tired. There was no way he could escape now. He was entanged and his tail hurt worse than before. He was drifting to the dry lands. Memories of the horror stories the elders told drifted across his mind.

They'll take you from the ocean to never return. They'll keep you in a water bubble to stare at you. They will never listen to you, we're just fish to them. They ate all kinds of fish up on the dry lands.

Reginald shivered and closed his eyes. He shouldn't have wandered.

~*~*~*~ That was a storm to remember. Lots of trees were down, roads were a mess, and he'd have a few days of solitude. There was much more in damages, but he didn't care enough to look into it unless he was getting paid.

Right didn't mind he liked being alone. It's why he lived out of the city and did whatever odds and ends he could to keep food on the table.

Like combing the beach for anything interesting washing up after a storm. He'd find some nice lost cargo to sell a few times and made a habit of checking.

He walked around a boulder and raised his eyebrows at a partially beached broken mast. Bad news for whatever ship it was formerly attached too. There were no boxes nearby, but he could get some use out of it surely.

Walking over he rested one foot on the mast so he could rest his elbow on his knee as he surveyed the debris. Sails seemed intact, he could sell those. Wood and rope he could keep for himself, the rope ladder could be repurposed into a net.

Not a bad find.

Nodding to himself he set to work wading into the surf at cutting a sail free. Yanking it it up to dry land he folded it up and put it in his sack. Halfway done he walked the the next and cut the top connection off.

...was that hair?

Oh, he sometimes found dead bodies too. Or bits of them. He buried any... partials and brought intact ones to the city. If it helped someone find peace, it was worth it even if he didn't get paid.

Grimacing he knelt down and lifted the sail higher.

A wave washed up to his shins and Right sighed. No reaction to the wave, no cough or sputter to show they were alive. As the water pulled back he reached down and rested a hand against the corpse's forehead. Wasn't warm, definitely dead.

New plan, use sail as temporary corpse barrier.

Cutting the last sail connection and some additional rigging he hefted the body in front of him and walked back to the beach. He was going to stop by his house first for a bite to eat. Hopefully the mast would still be around when he got back, but the less bodies were left around the better for everyone's sense of smell.

Strange he wasn't getting a whiff of decay, must have been recent.

Trekking through the woods he was familiar with he tilted his head. There was strange sound following him. If he didn't know better he would say it was someone struggling to breathe. Wildlife wouldn't get close enough to him to make that noise, there were no injured animals nearby and he was keeping company with a dead person.

It moved.

Right paused. He'd been sure the poor soul was dead but dead things don't usually move.

Swearing he broke into a jog glad he lived nearby. There was a first aid kit he could use if there was  a chance of saving a survivor.

Throwing open the door he lowered the person to the floor and threw the sail off.

...

...what?

...

It had brown hair, frills on it's arms, moving gashes on it's neck, and a full blown fish tail from the waist down. The bright purple caught his attention as he stared down the length ending in the wash of warm colors fins.

It'd gotten caught in the ropes, some digging in painfully from the missing scales and red skin. No wonder it had been fine in the surf, any higher and it would have been dead already.

Movement caught his eye as it reached up to it's throat fluttered it's brown eyes.

Fish, water. Fish die out of water. Oh he made a mistake. Oh he didn't want to kill it. Oh no he wasn't near any ponds or rivers.

Scooping up the not-corpse he kicked open his bathroom and dumped it into his bathtub. In preparation of the storm he had filled it just as a precaution.

Stepping back to lean against the doorway he ran a hand up the side of his face and knocked his hat off. He'd heard stories of merpeople, never believed them of course. It seemed silly that fish people would exist but there was one right in his bathtub.

~*~*~*~

Gulping down water Reginald wanted nothing more than the curl up. His tail hurt so much, why did it feel like it was out of water? And the... water tasted funny, like rain does? He surrounded by white?

Pushing himself up with his one free elbow he looked up. The water wasn't deep, he didn't have much room to either side of him. He still had the coils trapping him. Slowly he turned over and pulled his tail into the different tasting water.

This wasn't the ocean, but maybe it was close by?

Reaching up the smooth wall he felt air and curled his hand around the edge and pulled himself up to look around.

It was mostly brown, bit of red on a normal looking face, but it was just there on dry land. It was on dry land. It was a dry lander. Pushing back as far he could in the tub Reginald screamed.

Dry lander made a noise and fell out of the room.

Reginald screamed again.

He was tired, hungry, in pain, and trapped. No matter what angle you looked at it from, this was bad. He was never going to get away now. Looking around the room he swallowed, was this where they kept fish for awhile?

Actually... he didn't want to look right now.

Sinking back into the water he curled in the corner and trembled. He... wasn't going to get out of this was he?

~*~*~*~

Clutching his chest, Right wheezed. That was far louder than he expected, not that he had an idea of what to expect from a mythical creature in his bathroom. He jerked away from the bathroom door at the second screech.

Well, he wasn't going to town now. Not sure what to do.

Guess he could fold up the sail, that was something he could do while his brain was reeling from his new discovery.

Merpeople existed. Science types would love to study it, nobles would want to showcase it, and who knows what criminals would do to it.

Right sat down on the floor staring at the folded sail.

It didn't seem right. There had been fear on it's face, and if he thought about it that was fair. Waking up in a strange place with someone staring at you would spook anyone. Plus it was still tangled up.

That he could help with.

Grabbing a knife he stared at it, on the other hand he'll look pretty scary. Nothing new there, people found him intimidating even if he was minding his own business.

Intentions would get across when it realized it wasn't getting stabbed. Better be quick.

Stalking into the room he winced at expected scream but didn't stop. "Not gonna hurt ya."

It didn't believe him, eyes widening more as it turned to flee out the tub. What it hoped to accomplish beyond that was questionable considering the lack of water.

"No you don't." Reaching over he caught a rope and pulled it back over the tub. He took a deep breath as he heard distressed whimpers. It couldn't reach him with it's free arm.

He felt guilty for trying to help now. Maybe he should have waited, but he was committed now.

" 'm just gonna cut the ropes." he sighed and started to saw carefully. He didn't want to injure it if it made any sudden movements. Instead it hung there defeated, which he decided was worse. When the rope snapped it fell back into the tub and he stepped back just in case it attacked. Cornered beings tended to be unpredictable and fierce.

Instead the brown eyes broke surface and stared at him. Scanning.

Yeah, bit smarter than an animal, they would have gone back to panic. This was questioning and uncertain.

" 'm gonna cut some in front. Yah should be able t' get most of it off unless it's on there good." Right stood there and watched for a reaction. Maybe it didn't speak, that would make sense. Different culture and.. talking mediums? How would someone talk underwater?

Walking back up to the tub Right paused to see if it would try to flop out in fear again.

It was just warily watching.

Reaching down slowly Right watched for any sudden movement - he didn't want to get bit or hit with that tail.

Grabbing a knot he lifted it out of the water so he could better look at the mess. It was actually impressive how it managed to tie itself.  A cool grip on his hand caused him to look up as it lightly held his wrist and it bit it's lip. Understandably nervous, but he had ropes to cut.

This time when he cut through and it dropped back into the water he walked to the far side of the room to put the knife down. Space while it worked itself free.

Water sloshed over the edge in the next five minutes as it worked to freedom. Finally a mass of ropes was thrown over the edge, with a single line running back to the tub.

Before he could say anything  the vibrant tail shakily waved out of the water, the last rope tangled near the base of fins. Grimacing Right walked forward to look at it. That would leave a scar, maybe the back fin would heal.

Fetching his knife he reached out almost touching the tail before looking down. It was watching him again. Taking this as an affirmative he lightly grasped the tail and started making small cuts. The rope was wound tight and the wound already painful, he didn’t want to make it worse.

After a few minutes the rope fell away and he let go of the tail. It sunk out of sight and the merperson stayed submerged. Fair, poor thing had a rough time of it lately.

Gathering the rope he walked out and left the knife in his sink. Sitting down he ate an apple as he pondered his new situation. He had an injured merperson in his house. He had helped it after almost killing it by dragging it away from water.

Merpeople were real and he had one in his bathtub still.

~*~*~*~

Laying at the bottom of the white shell Reginald rubbed his right arm. He was glad to be free of the deadly coils, but his tail was still painful. He was still stuck, but the dry lander hadn't hurt him. It could have done so easily.

He was still alive. Plus he felt pain down to his fins, so it wasn't as bad as one of the elders who couldn't move their tail anymore nor feel it. It would heal in time.

Wrapping fingers around the edge of container he pulled himself up and looked around. There were so many things he knew nothing about. What were they used for? Did all dry landers live in places like this?

Crossing his arms on the edge Reginald rested his head as he let his mind wander with questions.

The dry lander stopped at the door and was staring at him. There was something he was dragging behind him.

Pulling his arms back into the water he blinked up at the other. The brown layers were strange and moved funny, like a covering? Why would they need a covering?

"Not sure if you'll like smoked fish, but thought yo might be 'ungry." Walking in the dry lander held out a fish within easy grabbing distance.

He was starving. Taking the fish he sighed, he... was being rude. The other had done nothing but help him and deserved a proper response.

"Thank you." He missed the stunned expression on the dry lander's face as he tore into the funny smelling fish. The flavour was concentrated, with something he had never tasted before!

"Y-you're welcome." Taking a seat the dry lander still looked dazed at the new discovery. Merpeople could talk.

"Uh... want another?" A second fish was offered.

"Please." Accepting the fish it disappeared as quickly as the first.

"My name is Right." He held out a hand to his formerly-mythic-but-totally-real guest

Glancing down at the extended hand then back up Reginald held out his hand with a tentative smile, "Reginald, it's nice to meet you Right."

Of course a merperson wouldn't know about shaking hands. A smile crept up on Right's face, "It's good to meet you too Reginald."