#w&t spoilers

[cosmereplay]

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[cosmereclysmic]

⚠️ Wind and Truth Preview Spoilers

Started writing a list of who or what The Voice belongs to and in traditional Me fashion I thought too hard about it and ended up with a couple paragraphs so here we fuckin' go I guess! 😤💅

Putting my chips down for a New Spren intro: "Parent" spren! In this case, the parent to windspren. If armour spren are thought of as cousins to radiant spren, then perhaps that implies aunt/uncle* spren? And since there's bondsmith spren, then that could imply there's big spren that don't make bonds. Outside of like Cusicesh and such. (If Cush** is even a native entity...)

I'm also thinking about the story ab how the Unkalaki came to live on the Horneater Peaks: they asked the ocean, the mountains, and the forest to give them a place to live, and eventually those things "literally" came together to make the peaks. For a while, I thought this might just represent the Shards, but it didn't sit right bc why would Odium do that lol. So if there's giant spren of the ocean, the mountains, the forest, it stands to reason there's A Giant Wind Spren.

This would also open possibilities up even more if you take "Knights of Wind and Truth" into account. If Wind is a giga-spren, then you could also assume Truth is a giga-spren. Maybe Truth is the one asking Kal for help? Maybe we'll see in the next Szeth POV chapter a voice is asking Szeth for help. (This would be really sad-funny imo bc the poor guy already has so many invisible people vying for his attention. 😭)

And this theory doesn't even touch on the Unmade and what they were before they were... well, Unmade. I have a theory they each correlate to the 10 orders, minus bondsmith, and Odium was trying to get a Bondsmith spren for himself so that he could make his own Bondsmith. (Or was this confirmed through WOBs? I can't remember.)

And now I'm getting severely off-track so I'll stop here lmao.

But for anyone curious, my other theories for The Voice also included: One Last Piece of Tanavast Is Alive For Some Reason (highly unlikely and kinda boring tbqh; I'm chucking that one off the balcony.) Or Sja-Anat (Interesting but not quite the level of intrigue I'm hoping for.)

Anyways thank you for coming to my TEDtalk. WATtalk? That looks dumb. I'll stick to TEDtalk.

*We need a better gender neutral term for aunts and uncles than "pibling." It sounds like a word you'd use in reference to dog's muzzle after it drank a bunch of water and then rubbed it all over you. "The dog is pibling! Gross!"

**Yes I'm making Cusicesh's nickname Cush I think it's funny. Couscous is also a valid option imo.

[ruvigapo]

Run boy run!! The sex monsters eat salmon!!

In which i arrive Fashionably Late to the fishssek party

[leclercari]

BRIDGERTON REALLY SAID HAPPY PRIDE MONTH!!!!!!! 🌈🌈🌈

[art-from-within]

I SINCERELY APOLOGIZE TO DEMIGOD LORD MOHG FOR CALLING HIM MOHGLESTER69 8000 TIMES IN THE SPAN OF 3 MONTHS. I AM WRACKED WITH GUILT TO KNOW THAT I HAVE FALSELY ACCUSED HIS MOST SANGUINE MAJESTY, OF DEBAUCHERY AND DEGENERACY. I WHOLE HEARTEDLY APOLOGIZE TO LORD MOHG FOR VICTIM BLAMING. I CONFESS MY SINS TO THE ESTEEMED MOHGWYN HOUSE, AND ACKNOWLEDGE MY FOLLY. I SHALL MAKE MONTHLY OFFERINGS OF MY PERIOD BLOOD AS AN ACT OF REPENTANCE. I SHALL NOT REPEAT THIS MISTAKE AGAIN. PRAISE BE TO LORD MOHG.

[greenbirdgreen]

been listening to malevolent w my friend!! not super far, but it's been fun :D

[bryverros]

so, in the final scene of tbb, hunter could be seen wearing a new bandana. it looks very weaven so i'd assume it was hand made. a gift, even.

now, omega is wearing something very closely matching the color of hunter's old bandana. so, i am now a firm believer that omega made hunter's current bandana and he just stopped wearing his old one so omega inherited (stole) it. to prove a point, i am attaching a few slides below

[lemongogo]

i dont think im gna finish this but vol.13 elendira means everything 2 me 🤭

[yache-berries]

Average Buddy Holly Enjoyers

[vegaseatsass]

Tragic and painful to have to make rushed little text posts before hopping offline and never getting to interact w/ the rest of the fandom butttttttt AH, 4 MINUTES, HOW DO I LOVE THEE? LET ME COUNT THE WAYS

Original timeline Great is my new favorite character (though Tonkla can cage fight him for it next ep when he's back on my screen), and original timeline Great/Tyme is so very very VERY my shit. Orig timeline Great, someone who is used to horrible things happening around him/because of him, being full shrug emoji at horrible things being done TO him - at a hot doctor stalking him, seducing him, and non-consensually filming him and publicly exposing the footage - in fact, learning that Hot Doctor did all this to fuck with Great's stepdad just makes Great want him more - absolute character perfection, to me. The way you can see the raw material for who Great becomes when he has the superpower to make different choices - someone who wants to do good (to lock down that hot doctor who has utterly dickmatized him, mainly, lol but I think he also does just want to be better than his father and family, sincerely), but who is so totally acclimated to bad as his baseline, that it doesn't occur to him until afterwards that he could do anything but witness and enable all the violence around him. Never have I been so compelled by a character getting do-over powers, because never have I met one so human in his cowardice and inertia and instinctual, nurtured, self-loathed selfishness.

And GreatTyme is just so much more delicious to me as a ship in this form. Tyme clocked Great as a Sriwatsombat and a gay mark and immediately ruthlessly tracked him down, tumbled him into bed and made sure to film it. Like he came up with that plan so QUICKLY and so READILY and the only sign of hesitation he really showed was in the actual uploading of footage. All the awkward wincing pick-up line clumsiness we see in the new timeline is missing from original timeline Tyme. He isn't trying to get into Great's heart, just his pants, and there is literally zero hesitation when that's his goal. Being smooth at human kindness: AHHHHH. Being smooth at manipulation, sexual terrorism and ice cold revenge: He's in his element.

Idk I'm just obsessed y'all. Great's FIRST question was "Why haven't you answered my texts?" his SECOND question was "Why didn't you post that on Onlyfans and make some money?" only his THIRD question was "Why did you do that?" and his FOURTH question was "You're fighting with my dad? Wickeddddddddddd"

[cryptidofthekeys]

Me, excited because welcome home's website got a huge update:

Also me, seeing what happened to Eddie (he's my biggest comfort character from WH btw)

[violetheart77]

Alex Hirsch in 2016

“Wait, you guys really thought Stan was going to BURN TO DEATH? 😂 That’d be crazy dark even for this show 😂 Just how twisted do you think I am? 😂😂😂”

“ . . . On a completely unrelated note, have you all met my new OC Gus Burnside?”

[apocalyptic-byler]

hmmmmmmm thinking many thoughts about this scene

also thinking many thoughts about this particular photo

anyway mike wheeler watch your back 👍🏾

[nightfal1n]

Potential kn8 Chapter 113 Spoiler:

What if their ancestors somehow connected

[a-very-sparkly-nerd]

HOLD ON A SECOND

IS THIS IN FRONT OF THE STARSCRAPER???

(probably Rayla reminding Callum that Aaravos is a more pressing issue than her parents, and him having none of it)

[lickthehilt]

keep you in a bottle

T/W: mentions of Boothills backstory and the reader who’s a direct victim of the IPC. Writing about it has made me think of parallels to current world happenings; I am well aware of the genocide happening in Palestine and I do not write this to glorify the situation whatsoever nor do I support the genocides. If you would like to help Palestine, there is a post by sulfurcosmos which explains different methods you can help Palestinians direct and non-directly:

These methods include donating, petitioning and campaigning (with inclusions of boycotting).

END THE GENOCIDE.

If my works do anything to offend you or any party, please let me know so I can amend or take down anything.

I do not mention descriptions of anything visceral in my work, the most being: “…the IPC fully invaded, but he told you that as he rummaged through the wreck of scorched land he'd found the chip at the entrance of where the nursery would've been in the shared house…” other descriptions include the idea of having a cybernetic body.

He'll pry the door open with his leg, too cool to use the actual handle, right about--

The door swings open followed by the beams of sunlight reflecting off the metallic surface of the medals and bullets hanging from his jacket and belt. Entering the hotel room, every movement he makes is loud and punctuated by the tinkling of metal and the clicks of his spurs -- in your daydreams sometimes he takes the form of a souvenir seller, like the ones they have in the big-shot planets he had travelled to in the past. You can see him hollering at smudged out faces, waving trinkets and brushing against people with his tassel-like long hair.

You love his hair; the length and how when he sways you can see the strands dance in river-like streaks. When you were younger you had to fight him tooth-and-nail to get your grubby hands on those clumps. Daylight burnt through fights that ended with you pinning his hands to his sides as he wriggled on his front, your weight pressing him down as you'd tear through his hair with your own hairbrush. Now adays you can't really brawl with him in the same way.

"What'chu dreaming 'bout, sugar?" He hauls a bag to the centre table, the contents clanking. His grin is razor sharp, cutting into his cheeks as he starts rummaging through it.

"You. Your hair. Braiding it and stuff, you know? You'd ever think about wearing it up or something?" From where you are, you can't quite see the emotion the flicks past his face. Moments like this, whenever he comes home with his bag of goodies, he looks like a wounded hound licking at his paws showing off the scraps he's managed to scrounge up. "I like that one."

From the bag he produces what looks like a panel of white metal, "like porcelain." Holding it up, he continues rummaging, "came with some fancy bits. Gold and all."

"All for me?"

His gaze momentarily flickers to you, staring through your form. You'd imagine how maybe he'd loom over you, bat at a strand of your hair, flick your forehead, brush his metal fingers against the flesh of your flesh. But the way he looks at you now, uncertain and alien. There are days he can't bring himself to look at you: thinks about what could've been-- what is. He likes to tuck you to his chest on these days, press you close to his non-existent heartbeat, have your hum resonate with the mechanical system inside him. His body is efficient, quiet and invisible to the naked ear, but some days you can really hear him, hear the sliding pumps and groan of metal joints.

"Only the best."

"Maybe you'll find something to fix that Synesthesia Beacon of yours."

Air passes through him in a throat chuckle, "ya think?"

Across the table he's laid out all sort of odd sheets of metal, some sturdy or bent, and he stands above the selection with his hands propped on his hips and leaning back. Cupping the bottom of his face he beckons you closer as you flicker next to him. "What’d ya reckon. Do ya like it?"

"The selection?"

"Naw, the table--" he clicks his tongue. "Yes the selection."

A smile would've pressed against your cheeks as you'd brush your hip against his. But, you don't have a physical hip to brush against his, instead your visage passing his form. The contact is non-existent, but he finds himself jolted still. "Sorry." You don't know what you're apologising for. "Well, um, it's a selection alright."

"Not good 'nough?"

"No-- it is! It's just… hard to imagine…"

"A body." You choose to not look at him.

When you had the chance to really inspect his body, the whole sleek design had been incredibly difficult to grasp for a country bumpkin like yourself. Imagine, mechanical bodies and not just the ones where the head's full of wires. His actual brain is in there, working and pumping whatever fluid they used for his blood or something. Does he even have blood? He'd never let you see the worst of his fights and you've only really seen him in action when he got good at what he did. When he had credit and cash spilling from his fingertips the same way that he let his bullets rain. Being a galaxy ranger was good for him, the best option for him after what had happened -- but he's never told you what went into that surgery, or more like he could never explain it.

"Look," he fidgets with his left hand, popping out his revolver chamber and spinning the wheel slowly, "it's not that deep when ya really think about it, honey."

"Boothill. I want you to look at me when you reassure me." He pauses. Then, he turns to look at you. Really look at you.

Your form flickers before him. There's a slight blue sheen over the visage of what you would've looked like -- what you should've looked like if you were physically alive. Boothill has razor sharp vision, even with one eye, but he struggles to look at you with a steady gaze. He fidgets in a way you don’t really see him, always one to ooze with confidence, dancing through bullet shells and pressing the nozzle of guns into his abdomen.

"When you made the decision to… did it hurt?"

"It hurt, alright." A belly-type laughter rasps his throat as he adjusts his hat, "but it hurt more know those little vermons would be going scot-free if I weren't chasing 'em down."

The thought makes you quiet. Outside you could make out the whizzing of hover cars and the cute little squishing sound those little billboards make as they trail behind you. There’s laughter and chatter and life.

Boothill adjusts his footing, his spur clicking as he shifts to be closer to you, just shy of what would be him pressing against your body.

"Yer'll still be you to me." He huffs, "metallic body er not, yer' still… Plus, I think it'll be easier for ya. No nerves to server, or gas to suck on. Just gotta boot you down."

"Gee. Real assuring."

"Ain't it?" And you think about it as he starts chucking the bad metal in the pile he's collected in the corner of your temporary living space.

You'd be awake as nothing more than waves of light one moment, then the next you'd have a body. Something real physical. And that'd be great-- but the morality of real death would come back, wouldn't it? No longer would you worry about Boothill losing you, or scratching your chip up a little too much, death would be in your hands once more. It's easier to be mad at someone else, but yourself?

Boothill never told you in detail on how he'd found your body the day the IPC fully invaded, but he told you that as he rummaged through the wreck of scorched land he'd found the chip at the entrance of where the nursery would've been in the shared house. It was small in size and a bit thick, almost lost amongst the greys and black, only found through its blinking blue light that winked through the rubble. He would've tossed it away if it weren't for your name etched into its surface.

He held onto the hope that it meant anything and clutched onto the chip well after he got his cyborg body, at one point forgetting it and keeping it in his boot for safe keeping ("… in your boot." "It kept ya safe, dun'it?"). Just by chance he had his hands on some holographic projector and popped the chip in. Then, there you were. Loading bit by bit, but just the same as you’d been the night before the wipe out. Same face, same body, hands and feet. You were still, as if frozen, and he'd been… well it was a lot. For him and you, who'd been in… well, not the best mind when you came to be.

"I… guess so. I-- and you'll be able to really find this doctor again?"

"Found her once, and I'll find her again, sugar. And before you know it," he tips his hat, averting his gaze to the whirring device projecting your form. "We can do all the hair braiding ya want."