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#death is just absolutely incomprehensible to me

honourablejester · 2 years

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I just want to dwell a little bit on the raw awe that the Webb telescope pictures evoke in me. We built a thing, we spent 20 years building a thing, and we flung it over a million kilometres away, and the thing we built takes … pictures of infinity. Pictures of 13 billion years in the past, pictures of the birth and death of stars, galaxies colliding, snapshots of other worlds. Lightyears of distance, aeons of time, glories almost beyond imagining.

This is a thing humanity can do. We can pool imagination, we can pool resources, we can devote decades of our lives, to building a camera that can photograph infinity. We can reach out, fling a piece of ourselves, our ingenuity, our dedication, our collaboration, our imagination, and create a lens so that we can see, we can touch …

There are people who say that pictures like this make them feel small, so tiny in comparison to the vastness that’s out there, but we touched that vastness. We took its picture. We put our palms on the panes of infinity. We flung a tiny tiny fragile machine, a collection of mirrors and motors and shields and fuel, out into the absolute vastness of space, more than a million kilometers distant, and took a picture of a dying star orbiting its partner two thousand lightyears away.

I mean, yes, we are tiny, we are incomprehensibly tiny, and so is everything we do and everything we build. But all that shows is that something so tiny can still do that. Can reach that far. Can witness that much.

We are incomprehensibly tiny and an incomprehensible miracle, that we can be so tiny in all this vastness, that everything we witness in these pictures aligned in such a way that we could form, and that in response, as tiny as we are, we can think and imagine and create on a scale that can … witness the universe right back. Touch it. Focus its light into an image of a billion, thirteen billion years ago. Share that image with a billion other minds.

We can see wonders. Absolute wonders. On a scale to beggar meaning. What more purpose do we need than that?

Sorry. Just. Sometimes science does something that just … wraps a whole fist around your heart and just goes … this is what wonder is. The wonder of the universe. And the wonder of us. This is what wonder feels like. This is what awe feels like.

This is what it feels like to be tiny. This is what it feels like to be infinite.

I love the stars so much.

#space #james webb telescope #humanity #science #wonder #these pictures make me feel SO MUCH

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melodic-haze · 1 month

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Thinking about it now, yk who I'm most interested to see with reader who's Akivili's reincarnation but doesn't realise? Black Swan.

I can't help but keep thinking like. Imagine instead of the scene with Acheron, it's you who she wants to dance with. And why would you ever want to turn her down yk? She's beauty, she's grace, nobody would ever refuse her in your place.

It's clumsy at first, you never really knew that you'd be dancing in such a formal setting so you're kinda lost in this kind of situation. But don't worry, cuz Black Swan is here to guide you through every step until it all feels like a smooth wordless exchange between the two of you!!

She does find it slightly odd though, how everyone else seems to be looking at the two of you-- no, looking at you with curiosity and a want to be closer to you, with some of them even shuffling just a tad bit to dance nearby. It could be because you were one of the mysterious explorers of the cosmos......but for some reason she knew within her that that's not right

So she's undoubtedly curious, and you can see that glint in her eye as she pulls you in while you dance, and you hear her murmur "let me see you" before you feel a minor wave of something off briefly destabilising you before things go normal again. Well, not necessarily normal, considering how you feel more connected to your dance partner than ever and you feel this sense of foreboding unease from so far away......but beyond how you had to keep your guard up, it wasn't hurting you.

Things were. NOT the same in Black Swan's case. She sees your life before you got to Penacony, before your time as a Nameless, before you even discovered a passion for exploting the great beyond!! But she sees that there is another layer—one so old and so fractured and so broken and so unbelievably incomprehensible.

Like an Aeon.

The Memokeeper, much too curious for her own good to back down now, pushes through despite all the warning signs not to. These memories from beyond your supposed time? All fractured, irreparable, corrupted all through hell and back. Some of the ones she CAN comprehend is time spent by.. you and people that you've most definitely never known, all at so many different times and seemingly eras and they all melt into amalgamations of things she is sure you've NEVER experienced so what's going on????

And when she sifts through them all, what waits for her is an empty void. A purely empty space, the stars practically refusing to decorate this scape unlike before she went deeper into your mind.

And she sees youTHEM

And THEYyou reach out to her and attempt to drag her with youHERheTHEM to have her witness the lonely death of--

She severes the connection with a yelp—snaps out of it more like—as you dip her on complete accident because you placed your foot wrong. You're so stupidly proud of the save before you look at Black Swan and she looks like she's just had the most HORRIBLE scare paralysis possible. THEN your smile drops

You ask her if she's okay just in case she's absolutely unimpressed you, and it is only now when you notice all the attention on you and you ONLY❗️❗️❗️ And you pointedly narrow your eyes at her when she shakes her head and grits her teeth the slightest bit before answering. But she doesn't relent so okay fine, you won't.

But when she looks back into your eyes again and see that fire that was supposed to be briefly extinguished all those many years ago, not only is she even more intrigued, but.. perhaps even a little scared for you too.

After all, what awaits you at the end of your journey: the line that you had reached so long ago, or a new ending that over writes that abyssal loneliness?

..She hopes for dear life it's not the former.

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watchmorecinema · 8 months

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Something I think is a bit of an issue is the myth that the "great" films from the past are all boring, unrelatable and incomprehensible. That some black and white foreign film from Sweden can only be a really slow, dour experience. I'll admit that I was guilty of that thought at one point too.

The reality is that lots of these great films are actually broadly enjoyable. The reason they're considered great isn't because of elitism, some snobby ideal that they're hard to watch and therefore better, but because they're just extremely well made and stylized films. The black and white Swedish film? That describes a number of Ingmar Bergman films like The Seventh Seal. And The Seventh Seal is hilarious, even now. I honestly thought it was going to just be really serious and depressing but it's a life riot (when not being serious and depressing). There's a scene where a man is trading insults with his wife's lover, but he's not very smart so another man is whispering insults to him to use. It's about a knight that plays chess with death for a chance at living, but death is a cheating bastard that delivers one liners before he kills someone.

I know that a lot of people really only watch whatever is popular and recent, and that's fine, but I don't want people to miss out on truly great films because they think they'd be hard to watch. I did a showing of a silent film at work (One Week by Buster Keaton) and everyone was enthralled by the stunt work on display. It's over 100 years old and it still holds up because there's no expiration date on quality.

If you are looking to engage with older films though, skip Tarkovsky for now. Stalker and Solaris are two incredible films (Stalker is probably top ten for me), but those are absolutely the cliche of some slow, hard to follow "true art is incomprehensible" film. Terrence Malick as well. Excellent filmmaker, but watching The Tree of Life is work. Kurosawa and Hitchcock are some of my favorite directors and every movie they make is straightforward and thrilling. High and Low is the most incredible police procedural I've seen in my life, and Psycho is still a tense, thrilling experience.

To be clear there is absolutely nothing wrong with liking the most popular stuff. I used to watch every marvel movie that came out, and I still think Wandavision is excellent. I have fond memories of going to watch Captain America with friends. I loved the Barbie movie and that's in the top 15 highest grossing films of all time. I just think that there's a lot of great films to explore if you're willing to try.

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bee-ina-boat · 6 months

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heres a collection of concept art for the rest of the entities for the mythos au!! if you're wondering where the eye is, they've been drawn already!

they are all FAR from done. keep in mind these are all just my initial concepts and i plan to do in-depth design sheets as i go to explore their designs more.

IF YOU HAVE ANY IDEAS ON HOW TO IMPROVE THESE DESIGNS PLEASE THROW EM AT ME- MY ANON IS OPEN AND I READ TAGS I DONT CARE JUST!!!! GIMME!!!!!

(also au context: the magnus mythos is an au where the entities are all gods, similar to various religious mythology, rather than paranormal entities that feed on fear)

design thoughts for each of them under the cut

The Web - God of Fate (she/it): im pretty happy with her design atm, shes meant to be a half spider half woman thing and i love that for her. shes probably the one ive thought the most on so far given her importance to the story. i want her to wear silks and shiny silver jewelry that just sparkles like wet spiderwebs do, not sure if im gonna keep the veil?

The Dark - God of the Dark (she/he/it): probably my weakest concept at the moment. it doesnt do the dark any justice. i mean i like the cloak idea but i want them to be very tendrilly, all consuming, shadowy, but i dont know how to properly portray them :/

The Desolation - God of Destruction and Fire (they/it): i have a neat vision for them! i want them to be made of coal and ash and smoke, to be burning and glowing on the inside, and their body is decorated with melted wax to look like clothes. not quiiiiiite sure about how their melty candle dress is now? i want it to be less constrictive

The Stranger - God of the Unknown and the Whimsical (he/she/they/it): it's meant to be this. weird wirey creature hidden behind masks and a lot of fabrics, like the framework of a poseable plush doll? i like the way the masks look but im not so sure about the body.

The Vast - God of the Above (she/he/they/it): im not so sure about his design at all im gonna be real. i want them to look like the atmosphere and be covered in clouds and have mountains for feet and an ocean cape but i feel like it might be a bit?? idk??? im just not that happy with it :/

The End - God of Death and Time (they/it): ugh i love this concept sm, making death read as less scary and more divine is so fun. theyre based on a seraphim and a sand timer,

The Buried - God of the Underneath (she/he/they/it): ANOTHER OF MY FAVORITES!!!! i love them. theyre inspired by hermit crabs!! and they have silver chains holding their shell to them. they look so endearing with their lil lopsided eyes ;; <3

The Flesh - God of the Body and Meat (she/he/they/it): i have so many ideas for the flesh y'all- im very excited to do a concept sheet for them. theyre meant to have no skin, just exposed bone and muscle, large limbs, hooves, exposed heart underneath a ribcage, teeth that close around their abdomen. white bandages that wrap around like clothes. a teeth/horn crown? i dont quite know whether to go for a more animalistic look or a more human one? like- theres so many ways to go with him idek!!!

The Hunt - God of Predators and Pride (they/it): see, i like this design but i feel like its too werewolf like? yknow? thats cool!! but itreads more monster to me than God :/

The Corruption - God of Nature, Rot, and Disease (she/they/it): i love this weird bug thing. this one i was really inspired for (mostly because. corruption aligned. so obviously im gonna think about this one alot) theyre this weird bug thing, the veil is inspired by the one from the art on the wiki! i want to maybe make them a bit more gross and weird because nature is like that sometimes, a moot on tiktok suggested that i add animal bones!! and i think thats SO smart im absolutely going too

The Spiral - God of the Incomprehensible (it/its): this weirdo is so hard to pin down istg. i imagine them as this spiral thing. body is kindof liquidy, arms are spindly and long, multiple shifting faces, overall just constantly changing and moving and like!!! how am i meant to draw that??? when my brain cant even wrap my head around what its supposed to look like yknow??? bruh jrdbhgfjdldgfh- that being said i think the main problem with the design is that it just gives me too many Michael vibes!!! is it the hair? the arms? its probably both.

The Lonely - God of Solitude and the Self (they/it): i like what this one has going so far! theyve got fog hair, fog tears, their body is meant to be splotchy like turquoise marble, i vibe with it so hard. not so sure what to do with their outfit tho :/

The Slaughter - God of War (he/they/it): another one of my more stronger designs i think! centaur with weapons sticking into them, face concealed, medieval armor and antlers- it vibes

the extinction isnt drawn because i literally have no idea what they should look like aside from color palette-

once again any and all suggestions will be taken!!!! i need ideas!!! plese!!!!

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adrift-in-thyme · 4 months

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@kikker-oma happy belated birthday!!! Sorry it took so long for me to finish this! But I hope it proves worth the wait <333 (Also I hope you don’t mind some whump)

CW for blood and injury, vomiting, a panic attack, and a cave-in (be careful if you’re claustrophobic)

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In the wake of the explosion, Sky feels nothing. There is a high-pitched ring in his ears, spots in his vision, warm, sticky blood trickling from his nose. But no pain.

Until there is.

It hits like a claymore, cleaving through the half-consciousness he has clung to thus far. And the next thing he knows, he’s jerking upward, gasping. Only, he can’t sit upright at all.

His mind screams the panicked order, his muscles attempt it, but a weak, agonizing twitch is all he manages. Something is holding him down, something massive and heavy. His chest struggles to rise beneath its constant compression.

Sky blinks again, squinting past the tiny eruptions of light and the dust that floats, thick and suffocating in the air around him. There is nothing much to see in the endless darkness. But he can make out jagged shapes, blocky forms, the outlines of sand-covered objects.

Caging him in. Holding him down.

He’s pinned, he realizes with a streak of mind-numbing terror. And suddenly, what little air he had managed to drag in turns to nothing at all. He gasps, eyes blowing wide, as he thrashes.

Or attempts to. All he manages is to bring on a fresh onslaught of dizzying agony. It strikes through to his very bones, sending sharp pricks of static dancing before his eyes and crawling up the back of his head. And for a split second, everything goes a striking shade of black.

Then, he’s breaching the surface once more, too soon, much too soon, skyrocketing back into a world of pain and suffocation.

Sky coughs, choking on blood and tears. He has never really considered himself claustrophobic, but this experience might just change that assumption. Of all the ways to die…

But you’re not, he berates himself. You’re not dead yet, so think, think. Figure out a way to survive.

He can’t reach his pouch. The rubble piled beside him makes certain of that. It presses against him, crushing his side and tugging at the hem of his sailcloth. But if he can move it just a bit…

Trembling hands press to its jagged surface. With a sharp intake of breath, Sky steels himself and pushes.

Something shifts and for a split second, Sky dares to hope that maybe, just maybe he can get free. But then, the rubble on his lower half crawls sideways with the rest. And Sky screams.

The nauseating numbness that had begun to take root vanishes, replaced with the absolute agony that splits through his legs. He turns his head to the side and chokes up bile.

That one moment seems to last forever, pain dancing along his body endlessly. He lies there, limp and gasping, gazing at the blurred splotches his vision has been reduced to. And the waves wash over him, stealing the air from his lungs and turning his thoughts into incomprehensible things.

Needles streak up his neck, bringing with them unnatural heat. His eyelids flutter, eyes preparing to roll back in his head and plunge him back into the painless deep.

“Sky!”

A hand finds his, desperate in the way it grasps at him. Sky inhales sharply, jolting back into some semblance of awareness.

He had thought no other heroes were near the blast. He had thought they were all clear of the area. So, why…

Wait.

Memories crash back into his mind like waves on the sea. Memories of a building crumbling behind him and a boy by his side, running, running away from the collapse, away from certain death. Memories of the fiery knowledge that had situated itself firmly in Sky’s gut, the knowledge that he must protect him, protect the hero who came after him.

Protect the hero who was the first to feel the brunt of his failures, no matter the cost.

His hands fly out on instinct to shove the small figure in front of him through the doorway. Echoes of a terrified voice in his mind as he leaps, meaning to follow, wanting to.

Only for darkness to catch him before he can.

Four. Sky’s breath hitches, a sob of relief and agony catching in his throat. Four is here with him. Four is alive.

And he came back.

“Sky, can you hear me?”

The Skyloftian focuses all his strength. Weakly, he squeezes Four’s hand. The smithy blows out an audible sigh of relief.

“Thank the goddesses. We’re gonna get you free, okay? We just need a minute. If we move anything now…”

Though he trails off, the words left unspoken weigh on the Skyloftian even more heavily than the rubble. He drags in a thin gasp, swallowing against the growing lump in his throat.

“But I need you to stay awake until we can get you out,” Four continues, forcing a lighter tone into his voice. “Can you do that?”

“Yes,” is what Sky means to say. “Hurts,” is the croaked cry that comes out.

Four’s grip tightens. “I know, Sky. I’m-I’m sorry.”

Sky closes his eyes. The darkness there is safer, more comfortable than the dusky dimness floating around him.

“Not your fa-fault.”

“You shouldn’t have pushed me.” The voice is grim and drenched in guilt. Though it aims to sound accusatory, Sky feels that it hardly meets the mark. “‘There was time. We could’ve both gotten out. We could’ve…”

“K-kept you safe.” It is hardly a croak. The word burns in his throat. “Smithy…I w-wanted to…”

He drags his eyes open, stares into the expanse of floating nothingness. He still can’t breathe.

“It’s the least I…could do.”

Four is silent for a long moment. Then, his fingers constrict just slightly. Their warmth is welcome in a world of cold darkness.

“You’re going to get out of there, Sky,” he murmurs and there is something in his tone that Sky cannot identify. Maybe he could if he wasn’t so tired. Far more than usual in fact. This exhaustion drags him down like a leaden weight, pulling at the remaining scraps of consciousness.

“Just hold on,” the smithy says, and Sky pushes back against the endless deep.

Hold on.

He can do that. He can…

“T-tell me about y-your Hyrule,” he croaks.

And Four does. The smithy has many secrets, perhaps, even as much as the old man, and yet, he tells him. Of his grandfather, of Dot, of his home and his world and the tiny creatures known as Minish.

Sky clings to every word that tells him more about the hero who followed after him and the land he fought to protect. He clings to the sound of his voice, the warmth of his fingers, the painting he paints of his life…until his brothers come.

And then, finally, finally, the world is opening back up and the sunlight is streaming in and he can drag in thin gasps of fresh air and…and Four is right there, still holding his hand but gazing down at him now. Concern gleams in his multicolored irises.

Sky offers him a weak smile. “‘M okay now, smithy,” he murmurs, every word agony. “T-thanks for…for staying.”

Four’s face splits into a grin. A teary one, but an expression of joy nonetheless. “I’ll always stay. It’s the least I can do for the person who paved the way.”

There is respect in those words, Sky realizes dimly. Respect and something else…A connection, perhaps, that is stronger even than their bond of brotherhood.

He deserves neither.

But as he lets his eyes slip shut, as the voices of his family swell around him and arms lift him with a gentleness that belies their strength…he is glad to know about their place in the timeline. He understands the look in Time’s eye a little better now, when he gazes upon Twilight.

He is proud of his successor too.

#I’m gonna post this on ao3 later today #but thought I’d put it here first #sorry again for the wait #life’s been nuts #but happy belated birthday!!!#I hope you enjoyed this <3 #lu four #lu sky #linked universe #linkeduniverse fic #trin writes #whump #angst #hurt/comfort #blood tw #injury tw #panic attack tw #cave in

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carrymelikeimcute · 6 months

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The izcourse continues...

When did people stop saying 'in my opinion'? because lord above would that simple phrase have stopped me getting so mad this morning.

I have no interest in reblogging the posts and starting drama, but some izzy takes I've seen this morning have made me want to chew through rawhide, and here's my opinion on why these 'factual statements' are wrong.

Izzy fans shouldn't be upset by his death because he's not a main character, he is a plot device to further the story of the main characters.

I'm a professional writer btw and to me a 'plot device' character is the barista who's in one scene. To me, if a named character with backstory and complicated interpersonal history with one or more main characters is just 'a plot device' - that's a waste of a character and shitty writing. I don't think ofmd is shittily written so this annoys me on two levels - disrespecting the show, and the character. Because in my view if Izzy is 'just a plot device' that's someone insulting the show.

2. Izzy was an antagonist and antagonists can only ever be redeemed and then die, or become a villain.

Not even true of ofmd and certainly not of media in general, yet stated as fact with nothing to back it up. This is NOT an opinion btw - you only have to look at Zheng and Jackie to know it's not true within the context of the show.

Jackie dobs Stede in to the British just as much as Izzy does, and she threatens them with vengeance again over the indigo - does she die? Does she become a villain? No, she's a guest at the lupete wedding for fuck sake.

Zheng insults Ed and attempts to kill Stede, two things Izzy was vilified for, gosh it was so sad when she died in the finale wasn't it? Oh no wait, she became their ally and sailed away on The Revenge!

'Have to die or become villains' is just...incomprehensible to me. The only way I can see it working in someone's head is if they think character like Jackie and Zheng did nothing wrong, when Izzy was evil, for doing the same things - albeit for more personally passionate reasons.

3. Izzy telling Ed that the ship's atmosphere was poison because of 'his feelings for Stede' was Izzy 'blaming Ed's actions on love again, just like he did in s1.e10 because Izzy is just one-note evil and only ever has that one thing to say.

To me, s1 Izzy is absolutely thrilled to have managed to bait Ed to anger, to have brought this out of him. He thinks he knows what he's just unleashed, but as we soon discover, he has no idea - because Ed had never cut off one of his extremities before. He poked the bear, but the bear was actually a fucking kraken.

s2 Izzy, in my opinion, looking at his expression above, is sad, resigned, he is saying Stede's name (which it's already established even obliquely mentioning him is a BAD IDEA with the whole 'talk it through' thing, after which Izzy sounds panicked) but he is specifically trying to make Ed see that he is not himself - that what he is doing to the crew is toxic.

Just because he's essentially saying 'This isn't you' in both scenes, doesn't mean the tone or the meaning of those scenes is the same. One scene ends with Izzy gleeful, victorious. One ends with him screaming on the deck, bleeding out.

I am happy for people to have these opinions, and for me to vehemently disagree with them, but they ARE opinions. And Izzy 'fans' or you know, people who see the show differently to you, are not stupid, racist, immature or whatever else you want to call us.

We just have a different opinion. If you're going to share your opinion, great! But it's still just your opinion.

#ofmd critical #the izcourse #izcourse #izzy hands #izzy hands apologist

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eroguron0nsense · 2 months

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Doflamingo, Love, and Arrested Development

This is mostly just me paraphrasing other Doffy metas and comments I've made but I kinda feel like the real tragedy behind Doflamingo's warped psychology kind of gets missed by people who focus more on his trauma in and of itself and get lost in discourses about having sympathy for characters despite their complete lack of morality and disregard for everyone (perfectly possible), or whether Doflamingo has any redeeming characteristics or genuine concern for anyone or anything outside of himself (he doesn't).

Doffy's story is fundamentally a tragedy, but not because of his childhood traumas or how drastic and painful they are; plenty of One Piece characters experience severe abuses or incomprehensible loss, but they're ultimately stories of how to find hope in the face of the incomprehensibly traumatic, or the salvation/redemptive power of love. Even characters who don't necessarily see their goals fulfilled (see Fisher Tiger, Pedro, Ashura Doji, EGGHEAD SPOILERS etc) aren't fundamentally tragic ones in the way that, say, Ace is, in that they die having fulfilled their goals to the best of their ability and knowing that people will carry on where they left off, even if they don't get to see the liberation they hoped for. Rosinante's story isn't a tragedy because he dies satisfied that he's given hope to someone he loves deeply (and to some extent tried to make amends for some of the guilt he clearly feels for participating in an institution that ruined that child's life).

Doffy, on the other hand, is a never-ending downward spiral from day 1. He was indoctrinated by evil people from birth and never has it addressed (his parents, for all their talk about living more simply than the Celestial Dragons, NEVER actually say "slavery is bad" to Doffy when he asks them why they don't own people any more and I have my own theory on why), who then suffers unbelievable trauma and has his sense of loss–both of his "birthright" and his innocence/ childhood–weaponized for evil. And he spends the rest of his life in this semi-permanent state of arrested development and violent entitlement. He can't have the station and privilege of the Celestial Dragons to... own slaves and live in luxury, so he builds a kingdom where HE reigns supreme and everyone who crosses him is killed or enslaved as a toy. His mother dies and he kills his father, so he assembles a cult-like "family" to try and compensate for the one he's lost/destroyed, but he doesn't and likely doesn't know how to love them in any meaningful way beyond being possessive of them and seeing them as extensions of himself (e.g. he's willing to kill anyone who makes fun of Pica because no one's allowed to antagonize his "family", but he also orders Monet to do a suicide bombing in Punk Hazard, and he's willing to sacrifice one of them for the eternal life surgery, etc). I think that might be why, even though he should know Corazon has every reason to hate and fear him, he's still so eager to take his brother in when they reunite as adults–he shouldn't trust him, and he eventually comes to suspect him of treason, but he's desperate to have a family and Corazon is emblematic of something he wants but can never have because he's a cruel stunted person who knows nothing but entitlement and violence and cannot process the idea that anything has value or merits selflessness and sacrifice.

Everything Doflamingo does is defined by trying to replace or compensate for the family and privilege he was "supposed" to have, but he doesn't love anyone or even understand how real love works because he's been taught to have no regard for human life and all he knows is that love = absolute servitude, that his interests are ultimately more important than the wellbeing of his "family" members, and that betrayal means death. And far be it from me to sympathize with a fallen aristocrat's deranged revenge power fantasies, but it does demonstrate how oppressive institutions inevitably deprive their own beneficiaries of some of their humanity, and consequently fuck them for life. Doffy craves genuine affection and has had his capacity for it permanently stunted by his former class station and indoctrination.

This craving for love combined with an inability to actually feel it in any meaningful way factors into why he's so obsessed with Law, who he kept hardcore projecting onto in the flashbacks and who he expected to turn out just like him. His brother chose Law over Doflamingo and even his undercover mission out of love, and for all his traumas and hangups, Law can find his own crew and friends who he cares about, and he's able to live on and find meaning even after losing EVERYTHING because Corazon genuinely loved him enough to die protecting him. Doffy, on the other hand, is doomed to a loveless, misanthropic, cruel existence where he tortures countless people to compensate, but he can't replace what he's lost and he'll never find it. It's not what Corazon would have wanted, but Law fighting for and honouring Corazon's memory in everything he does enrages Doffy, who will never be able to understand why they cared for each other so deeply, and why both of them are integral to his downfall.

#one piece #trafalgar law #straw hat pirates #donquixote doflamingo #donquixote rosinante #corazon #one piece meta #dressrossa

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violet-prism-creatively · 13 days

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My live reactions to Harrow the Ninth

Continued from my pre-reading assumptions and post-reading thoughts about Gideon the Ninth

Everyone who said "Harrow the Ninth will take a while to make sense, be patient and it will pay off" was absolutely right! I made a lot of notes throughout with predictions, some of which were correct and some of which were... not.

Theories that were wrong:

The Emperor wiped Harrow's memory of Gideon

Gideon has spoken with The Body

The Body's eyes now appear yellow because they're Gideon's eyes

Harrow only sees her own eyes as black because she wiped her memory of Gideon, everyone else perceives them as gold

The Sleeper is The Body

The Sleeper is Gideon

"Ortus the First" is Gideon (the Ninth)

Harrow is haunted by Gideon

The picture in Camilla, Coronabeth, & Judith's shuttle is of Gideon

Cytherea's body moving around is a hallucination

Gideon's sword is haunted by the lyctor who established the Ninth House

I also did make some pretty good guesses, though. Here's some more of my notes that are just fun reactions!

"Her parents had... found out... about what she had done" SHE DOESN'T REMEMBER GIDEON'S VITAL ROLE IN THIS

This Teacher is a lot more helpful

there are advantages to having God himself as a father figure

"the grey-wrappered figures of Camilla Hect and Palamedes Sextus laid on the slabs in the mortuary" NO :(

bookmarking this other incomprehensible clue

it's that graffiti S that everyone drew in elementary school lol

"You had noticed at previous dinners that he did not like some particular vegetables, so you had put them all in." that's so petty, I love it

"said Camilla Hect" YAY

"the skull of someone who, soon after death or symptomatically during, had exploded" Palamedes!

Harrow never got actual sword training as a lyctor, did she? Now Camilla can help her!

"Nobody had seen you walk through that door [to The Tomb]. Nobody had watched you leave." GIDEON SAW AND THAT'S WHAT'S GOING TO CONVINCE HARROW THAT SHE'S NOT INSANE, EVENTUALLY

"What a destructive, romantic, ridiculous act. It was always a certain kind of ass who approached love like that" yeah it's a certain kind of stupid, heroic, selfless, etc. to make yourself forget the person you're in love with to protect them

"Harrow Nova" another alternate universe where Harrow is in Gideon's role?????

"they've got a hotshot new BARI star" oh my god it's a coffee shop au in space

SHE REMEMBERS GIDEON!!!!!!! (how??)

"You sawed open your skull rather than be beholden to someone. [...] Harrowhark, I gave you my whole life and you didn't even want it." AAAAAAAAA!!!!

"I was, and am, a grown man, and you both were neglected children" thank you Ortus for taking responsibility. actually a decent person

"What the fuck is going on?" yeah i feel u babe

"'The only thing that ever stopped me being exactly who I wanted,' she said, 'was the worry that I would soon be dead... and now I am dead, and I am sick of roses, and I am horny for revenge.'" hell yeah!!

oh Ianthe was gaslighting her. yeah Gideon wreck her!

"you'd kept my sunglasses" awww

"I never made her look like that. She can't love me, even if I'd wanted her to." aw :( and she's still so devoted anyway

"Your art, not my strength, was the ultimate source of our victory." so Ortus does get to be a hero after all, in his own way!

"Awake Remembrance of These Valiant Dead Kia Hua Ko Te Pai Snap Back to Reality Oops There Goes Gravity" I remember seeing posts about this name now! lol

yeah it's a weird chain of people in other people's bodies (Gideon would love the innuendo)

"We needed your, ahem, genetic material" Ianthe was right, ew. Also Gideon is the daughter of God I guess?

"You watched us kill our cavaliers in cold blood, and none of them had to die." ok that is a pretty bad thing for him to do

the tragedy that Gideon only had John as a father for a few minutes, while Harrow had him as a father figure for months but didn't want that

"'my necromancer started an affair with your mother... not knowing I'd also been doing the same thing, using his body.' // I said, 'What the fuck.'" extremely valid reaction from Gideon

"Oh, we'll still hate each other, my dear, we have hated each other too long and too passionately to stop... but my bones will rest easy next to your bones." that's kinda romantic in its own way

to be fair, if John dies, the entire solar system of Dominicus dies

"We died" no actually I think you might be alive and being saved

???????? Another alternate reality memory thing??

Multiple notes about how Harrow might just be the way she is because of growing up in a temple with strict routine, no social interaction, and no variety of sensory input... but I'm headcanoning her as autistic. Also headcanoning Gideon as ADHD, and autism/ADHD gay couples are my favorite ships.

Tagging people who have been following along. I'm going to switch to not tagging people anymore after this, but tagging all posts as #violet reads tlt, and you can follow the tag. @procrastinationaccount @vivaciouscynner @pearlofmydreams @cursed-druid-girl @ghostly-atv

#violet reads tlt #the locked tomb #tlt #harrow the ninth #gideon the ninth

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not-terezi-pyrope · 4 months

Text

My novel, Total Entropic Denial, is now available to read for free on Royal Road!

April Pearce's world feels like it just might be falling apart. Her restaurant job leaves a taste in her mouth almost as bad as the food they serve their customers, her kinda-sorta girlfriend is probably, almost-definitely mad at her, and despite her best efforts, she can't seem to stop her neuroses from leading her face-first into bad decisions and bloody accidents. But as if that wasn't bad enough, now it seems that there might be a very real chance that she's losing her mind. As a series of inexplicable and increasingly horrific occurrences lead April to question the fundamental nature of her reality, staring an incomprehensible truth in the face will strip her down to the deepest marrow of her soul, and leave her straddling a line between two twin terrors; that she's either going insane, or, even more terrifyingly, that the things she's been seeing are absolutely real. Following those questions to their conclusion will lead her to new horizons, throw her into conflict with unexpected enemies, and make her even more unlikely friends. As the boundaries of reality start to crack wide enough open to catch glimpses of the horrors that lie outside of their confines, the scope of her struggle starts to tend towards a yawning infinity. Wherever this path may end, one thing's for sure; once we get there, nobody will be able to shut their eyes and ignore the consequences.

Total Entropic Denial is my experimental Science Fantasy/Horror novel, with the guiding ethos of experimenting with high concepts while also getting extremely weird with it. This is the largest creative project I've ever undertaken, taking up almost the entirety of my 2023, so it'd really be cool if you'd check it out!

Total Entropic Denial features queer characters and relationships, alien worlds and creatures, and body horror. It is a mature work that at times deliberately seeks to provoke, so I will up front provide the following:

Content Warnings: Violence Blood Explicit gore Explicit sexual content Shocking content Situations of ambiguous sexual consent Depictions of homophobia Depictions of transphobia Death Existential despair

The book fully free and available to read online at the above link. I would have liked to have optional monetization, but unfortunately I can't add a PayPal donation link to the Royal Road listing without exposing my deadname. In the event that a significant number of people want to do that, let me know and I'll figure something out. In the meantime, please leave a review and/or share the book around!

Additionally, I want to give big thank yous to @ericvilas, @fipindustries, and @theothin for beta reading this for me, as well as other help and encouragement received!

#not-terezi-speaks #writing #ted #total entropic denial #it is done #it is public #i am free...

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animentality · 6 months

Note

Not to send you an essay but do you ever think about how Gortash was the only person in the whole game who didn’t want anything from Durge but Durge. Just them, as a person. Like yes he wanted the netherstone, and wanted the alliance. But what I mean is there were no prereqs for Durge as a person. Every other companion, every other NPC even, wanted Durge to either resist and refuse Bhaal or pursue power and claim their birthright. Everyone had their two cents for what Durge should or shouldn’t do irrespective of how Durge actually felt about it. It made any friendship or love offered to them conditional, even in the case of their companions. It was always “I’ll stand by you, IF”. To be fair, not necessarily unreasonable for the normal person to set boundaries on murder and such lol. But my point is that they all wanted something from Durge first.

But Gortash. OF ALL PEOPLE. Gortash didn’t want anything from them but them. Even for Durge’s biggest supporters in either moral direction - Jaheira, Sceleritas, etc - it was not that simple. Yet Gortash’s friendship with Durge (and to be clear I think they were so in love but I say friendship here to emphasise that even on top of or irrespective of any romance, they were genuinely friends too!) was unconditional. “This changes nothing” is a line I know we all talk about to death but god. That is genuinely unconditional. It is!

(If we want to push the delusion a bit further, that’s a declaration of the unconditional nature of their alliance, which can be chalked up to nothing less than real and honest love as far as I’m concerned. He has no other reason to not care that Durge just said yeah the entire divine commandment part of this mission is in the pot. But Gortash was like I Do Not Care! And he meant it! “Oh yes incomprehensibly powerful beings came to us in our dreams and asked us to do all of this in their names in the first place, and you just pissed on that, but no biggie!” Same short-tempered petty bastard who kicks you hard in the shin with his metal-toe boot if you accidentally hit him. Who straight up attacks you if you show up to his office without any of the netherstones and say you forgot them or whatever. Guy who just kills you if you GIVE HIM THE STONES LOL. But he doesn’t care even slightly that Durge said fuck off to the lord of murder who ordered this whole plot to start? Doesn’t yell, doesn’t ask Durge what were they thinking, just goes oh ok. He makes me insane btw)

I’m also painfully aware that Durge will never find that kind of unconditional support with anyone else, ever. I just feel like this would haunt my resistance Durge for the rest of his days tbh.

(And like. My resistance Durge loves Jaheira, she’s the parent he never had and she means the world to him post-canon, he follows her around like a lost puppy because ultimately he is one but I have to wonder if he would lie awake at night with the niggling thought that maybe what he has with Jaheira would not survive if he acted any other way. Plus the thought that Gortash knew him at his absolute worst, and loved him anyway. And maybe that wasn’t a GOOD thing, morally - a GOOD person shouldn’t have loved him like that, right? - but he loved him anyway. I don’t think my Durge would ever ever get over it. Especially with the fact that he can’t even remember 99% of their relationship. Gortash can’t ACTUALLY haunt Durge cause Bane is busy using his soul as a stress ball but in every metaphorical way. Durge is haunted.)

Tldr Gortash is the guy who says “just be yourself <3” and I think that’s beautiful

You know, you hit the nail on the head.

Of course it's not unreasonable to expect your friends and lovers to stipulate, that they will only love you as long as you don't go on a murderous rampage.

That's totally reasonable, that's normal, I agree with it on principle.

But. But.

As you said.

Gortash loved you even when you went on a murderous rampage.

I am obsessed with him, because he loved the dark urge without reservation, believing in their ability to control their urge, but also admiring their intelligence and their talents.

He knew what they were from the start, and he accepted it!

And he could still love them!

I just don't think anyone else in the entire goddamn game could say that!

And that's why I'm obsessed with Durgetash.

You get me.

It's about loving someone for who they are, and not what they are to you.

They were never just the Chosen of Bhaal, whom he must work with, not to him.

Never.

They were never the Bhaalspawn, the savage dark urge, the scourge of Faerun.

They were themselves. And he liked that.

Guys, he LIKED them.

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #dark urge #enver gortash #durgetash

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swordsmans · 3 months

Note

have any snippets you want to share from what you wrote last night? 👀

it took me a bit to figure out how you knew i’d been writing last night hahahahahaha. i’m finally settling back into working on the sequel to the poison immunity fic! progress is slow but steady, which has actually been quite nice. This takes place on Zou after the crew arrives from Dressrosa but before they split up again to go to Wano and WCI, respectively. Disclaimer, of course, that this is a draft :'3c

“A whale’s lifespan is rarely longer than, oh, seventy years,” Brook hums, tilting his head to the side, curling white-bone fingers through the darkness in a vague gesture out to sea. “I will cherish my time with Laboon, but in the grand scheme of an endless death, the years he has left are so very small.”

Zoro watches him, bleached body almost reflective even in the dim moonlight, and not for the first time (or the tenth time, or the hundredth time) Zoro is struck full-force with the incomprehensible horror of Brook’s strength. More than any of them, he is an immovable force. Untethered (and who could blame him) but still here.

“Fifteen at most, then,” Zoro replies, “give or take,” and Brook tilts his head the opposite direction, a learned courtesy to show he’s listening.

“Optimistically, yes,” Brook replies. His voice is light, carefree like always. “Whatever I am given, I will take. It’s more time than I spent half a century believing I had, after all.”

“We’ll all still be alive.”

“And quite spry, in fact.” Brook nods. “When Laboon passes, I will still have my crew. I won’t be alone—not again. Not yet.”

“Not yet,” Zoro grunts back, blunt as ever, and as he shrugs a wordless yohoho! floats up between them. He thinks of a span of time more than twice his age, so long he can’t wrap his head around the depth of it—and he thinks of sagged bodies decaying in sprawls across rotten wood, purple and bloated with a poison of their own.

“I find it funny that people so rarely talk to me of death,” Brook hums, light and easy.

Zoro snorts. “You’re always talking about death.”

“Oh, indeed. But one man does not a conversation make.” He chuckles, then—quick. Bright. “I would know!”

It’s hard not to feel his own mouth pull into some kind of involuntary smile, even as his brain processes what’s been said. Brook is just so—Brook. Not for the first time, Zoro marvels at him.

Still, though—

“Maybe it’s ‘cause you do that,” Zoro says. “The jokes and shit.”

And Brook throws his head back—his arms out—and laughs. Laughs loud enough to wake Nami but doesn’t, somehow (which is a good thing and also a terrible thing, Zoro thinks—he wonders how long it’s been since she properly slept, waiting for them here, waiting for Luffy to come and fix things). Still, he mutters, Oi—and Brook twists his bony neck to look down at him—grinning. Always grinning. Physically incapable of anything else.

“Oh, but that’s the point!” Brook says, absolutely delighted. “I’m a musician!”

Zoro feels his own eyebrows raise, but Brook is Brook is Brook—so he just grunts,“I don’t follow.”

And animated in his own strange, manic little moment of joy, Brook sways, spinning once across the grass and slipping out of his coat in the dance—before he folds smoothly into a crouch in front of them both. Without missing a beat, he gently, gently drapes his coat across Nami (and across Zoro’s legs, too) and says, “My job is joy.”

“Joy.” It’s a statement and a question in one.

Brook simply nods, standing straight again. In the moonlight, his bones shine. “Death is an inevitable part of life, and if I can make you fear it just a bit less—make you laugh just a bit more when you think of it because you think of me, then I have served my purpose. We are surrounded by death—seeped in it—but death is proof we are alive. All things need an antithesis, a mirrored opposite such that its best qualities can shine against the juxtaposition. Without death, what is life! And what is life if not laughter and music and companionship! We must laugh at death to laugh in life!”

Zoro watches him, bursting forth with a half-coherent rambling into the night—and he doesn’t get it. But at the same time, he does.

But—

“Maybe it's good for the others, but I’m not afraid of dying,” Zoro bites, more defensive than he means. It has been—a day. “I’m not afraid of shit.”

With easy acquiescence, Brook nods. “Of course,” he says, still light and breezy. “I believe that’s part of what our dear Navigator has taken issue with—one could argue that’s part of the overall issue at hand. But, I must say—if anything, this is proof that you do still fear death. Fundamentally different.”

“Oi—”

“It’s not a weakness!” Brook says, shaking his head. “Or if it is, I’m quite spineless myself—oh, but I do have a spine! You can see it right here—” he poses, distracting himself, giggling against the sky as Zoro frowns.

“Doesn’t seem any different to me. And also—I don’t.”

“Everyone has a spine, Zoro—even if you can’t—”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Zoro grumbles—but it’s around the twitched lips of a suppressed laugh. Because of course—

And then Brook says, “You do indeed. You fear our Captain’s death more than anything, anything in the world, though you know better than anyone but me, perhaps, that it will come.”

#answers #heheh thanks for asking!!!!#gyro.odt

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knightsickness · 10 months

Text

total drama cast ranked by how much i want to smoke with them

would feel actively bad making this guy smoke

24 alejandro already weird about food and his body in a not eating preservatives or dyes way i do not think he would smoke or drink. he would do cocaine but that’s not what we’re asking. wouldn’t participate and would have a bad time if he did. would be number one if the question was which total drama character do i want to talk to about orthorexia. also wayyy too much of a dick to be a good trip sitter he’d start trying to hypnotise me or some shit

23 trent i cannot imagine weed would make his paranoia less debilitating which sucks because i feel like all his friends smoke. cool guy not a stoner would hang out with him sober unless he brought his guitar

nightmare blunt rotation

22 cody brags a lot about how much he smokes and how much of a total nonevent this is for him takes one drag and coughs so hard he throws up. bad time for everyone

21 duncan keeps mentioning that he did ket before he came because he knew your shit was going to be weak as if you didn’t hear him (he doesn’t think you reacted enough the first time). just kind of an asshole

20 justin opposite to alejandro in one important way which is that i think he absolutely smokes. however i think weed would make him even more intolerable i think he’d be a buzzkill and kind of mean

whatever

19 izzy keeps describing the crazy horrific ‘hallucinations’ she’s having to try to freak everyone out and successfully convinces owen he can also see them. may or may not actually be high. only not in nightmare because i think if she did smoke she’d be relatively mellow

18 beth trying too hard to be funny acting way more out of it than she is. would annoy me i think

17 katie and 16 sadie would be whispering to each other the whole time and not really mixing with the rest of the group. they’d giggle until they had an incomprehensible falling out. they would still leave together

15 owen on paper ideal he’s chill he’s put more thought into the snacks than he has the weed. however i know he’d be farting constantly and apologising but still doing it and it would piss me off so bad i’d have to leave

14 sierra would be very giggly and her infodumping would be plagiarised from a video essay i watched last week. i would not call her out on it

13 noah ‘this is garbage i don’t feel anything’ -> catatonic

12 ezekiel not allowed to smoke weed but if he did it would change absolutely nothing about his behavior. this one’s just whether i would hang out with ezekiel and honestly i would

11 heather would get a headache and get snippy but i think she both has smoked before and would be pretty mellow. total middle of the road she’s fine

sure

10 gwen would be cool if i could talk to her about her art and bugs and dali but if she got one text from duncan or courtney or trent i think she would enter a paranoia death spiral. i would have to hide her phone

9 eva i think she’d be quiet but chill. inoffensive i think it would do her good

8 tyler would have a good time i think he’d be funny but would manage to grievously injure himself and then we’d be stoned in the emergency room and he’d panic

7 geoff cool guy definitely knows a guy but i think he’d be too much. i’d be greening out and he’d be crossfaded stood on the table. would be willing to put up with him for bridgette’s sake

6 courtney would tell me several times about how letting loose on one day actually allows her to be sharper and more productive for the rest of the week before going nonverbal. that’d be cool with me i know she needs it

5 leshawna she’s cool i want to talk to her about what she’s got going on. would stay relatively level-headed though i think she’d be annoyed by anyone acting up

dream blunt rotation

4 lindsay honestly can’t see a downside here. she would have a sparkly pink bong i would definitely smoke with lindsay

3 dj don’t think he smokes much but would socially. just a cool guy probably homemade food for the sesh. ideal

2 harold i want to watch star wars with harold stoned soooo bad. i’d let him infodump about the medieval summer camp he went to last year

1 bridgette chill into crystals and spirituality objective best choice. all her snacks are vegan she would smoke on the beach. nice and funny also only contestant i think was actually stoned on the show

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whumpy-wyrms · 5 months

Text

The Last Lab Rat #12: Fever Dream

previous | masterlist | next

content: lab whump, captivity, fever, drugging, comfort, electrocution, parent death mention, winged test subject whumpee, scientist carewhumper

—

Dew was getting closer and closer to escape, and he couldn’t be more terrified.

The past week, he had been planning a real escape with his little snake friend. He and Sasha had been crawling through the vents every night, mentally mapping out every twist and turn, every exit and entrance, every dead end. It was hard without a flashlight, but they would make do. The two of them decided to take it slow; no use rushing something and risk being caught, having the entire plan ruined.

They weren’t in a hurry. They knew Dew’s escape plan had to be absolutely flawless, with no possible way of getting caught. So even if it took weeks, they would take it slow.

But after everything, lying to the scientist was taking a toll. Dew had accidentally constructed an intricate web of lies he had to constantly keep track of. If Anton confronted him on just one hole in his stories, Dew would be done for. He’d crumble, too scared for what would happen if he kept lying.

So Dew tried to avoid his captor growing suspicious at all costs with the only way he knew how. Dew hated talking to Anton like a friend, having friendly conversations with the scientist after experiments, talking about his life, laughing, smiling. But gaining Anton’s trust was a priority. Besides, if Dew did get caught in this web of lies, maybe his captor would go easy on him because of this.

It was about a week after he met Sasha, and Dew found himself with a terrible headache, right after waking up. The lights were off, so it must’ve been early in the morning. He rolled over and held his head in his hands, feeling the heat radiating off of him. His stomach felt like shit too. No. Was he getting sick? He supposed that made sense, considering how long he’d been here. But this certainly wouldn’t help things.

Dew laid there for hours, unable to fall back to sleep. Eventually, the lights clicked on, making him wince and squeeze his eyes shut. A little bit after that, he heard the sound of footsteps walking up to his room.

“...Dewey? Are you okay?” Anton asked, walking into Dew’s room and putting the tray of food on his nightstand. The truth was, Dew looked like absolute shit. He was racked with sniffles and coughs, with piles of used tissues littered around him. Oh. Anton’s lab rat must be coming down with something.

Dew only mumbled an incomprehensible response, curling into himself and moving deeper under the warm blankets, as if searching for a false sense of security. Anton walked closer, now noticing that Dew’s wings were trembling.

“Hey, Dewey? What’s wrong?” Anton’s voice came out soft, quiet, as if he didn’t want to scare the little guy more than he already was. “Are you sick?”

“What does it look like?” Dew hissed, but his voice came out groggy and strained. He sounded absolutely miserable. He looked miserable. “I’m sick, Anton, obviously. I probably have a fever or something.” The scientist tilted his head and reached out his arm to Dew’s forehead, trying to feel his temperature.

“Don’t touch me.” Dew flinched back and swatted Anton’s hand away with his wing. He turned his body to the other side and buried his face into his pillow. “Just leave me–” Alone. Dew shuddered. He didn’t want that either. His voice softened. “I mean… Can you um- j-just get me some water? Please? The stuff in the bathroom sink is gross.”

Anton stepped back, giving Dew space. “Uh, Sure.” When the scientist left, Dew had a sudden spurt of coughs and sneezes. He groaned into his pillow, wishing he didn’t feel like this.

“Here you go, Dewey.” Anton smiled and handed him the water.

“My name’s not Dewey,” Dew complained into his pillow.

Anton smirked. “What was that, Dewey? Your voice is all muffled.”

Dew immediately sat up and shot Anton a glare, then groaned in pain and held a hand to his head. Too fast. He sat up too fast and now the room was spinning and his headache was worse.

“Gimme the water,” Dew said, sniffling.

“Pfft, rude.” But Anton handed it to him anyway.

Dew flopped back down onto the bed when he was done, and rolled over. “My head hurts,” Dew said weakly. “Can you um, dim the lights a little more? It’s hurting my eyes.”

“Oh. Okay.” Anton turned the lights down until he saw Dew visibly relax.

“Thanks,” Dew said.

“Don’t mention it. But, Dewey. You can’t just stay in bed all day.”

Dew turned to look at him incredulously. “I… I have a fever I think. I’m sick. A-Anton, I can’t- I don’t feel good.”

“Well, yeah, but I can just–”

Dew squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. He didn’t want to deal with Anton’s antics right now, whatever that man was planning. Dew took a deep breath and opened his eyes, looking away. His eyes widened at something new. “...Wait, what is that?” He asked, surprised. He sat up and pointed to a bag that he noticed was sitting on the floor next to the wall.

“Oh,” Anton said as he picked it up. “It’s the night-light you asked for.”

Dew looked at him with a puzzled expression. “...Really?”

“Yeah, you wanted one, remember? I don’t understand all your silly fears, but whatever.” Anton tossed a strange object to Dew, and he scrambled to catch it.

The night-light in question was a little, round, white cartoonish ghost, made out of plastic with small LED lights in the middle. There were two little black dots for eyes and a small smile printed on its face. Dew turned the light on, and quickly squeezed his eyes shut at how bright it was. He turned it off, and rotated it around in his hands. It was cute, a bit silly, sure. But it was bright enough to light up the vents. It was perfect.

“Um, thanks,” Dew said. “I like it.”

“Cool. Oh! I got something else for you.”

“You did?”

“Yeah.” Anton smiled and pulled something out of the bag. Dew looked up, right as a blur of something fluffy and white was being thrown at him. He scrambled to catch it and get a look at whatever it was. Anton snickered, standing awkwardly next to his bed. “I saw it at the store and immediately thought of you.”

Dew looked down, and in his arms was a large, very fluffy and soft… chicken plushie? “What…”

“You both have wings! You’re like a giant chicken.”

“I’m not a chicken!” Dew said angrily, clutching his plushie in his arms anyway. He had to admit, it was really soft. He had a lot of plushies back home, and he missed snuggling with them. “What is this, um, for anyway?”

“I just thought you needed a friend. I suppose it gets lonely down here without me.”

“...Yeah,” Dew said quietly. “It does.”

Anton figited and walked closer, voice turning serious. “...Dew, how are you feeling?”

“Not good. I just wanna rest. …Please.”

“Hmm,” Anton hummed. Dew broke out in a burst of coughs. “I have an idea.”

“W-what kind of idea?” Dew asked miserably. “Can I just have some headache medicine or something?”

“Yeah yeah, hold on.” Anton waved him off while fishing something out of his pocket, seemingly not paying attention to what Dew was saying at all. The scientist pulled out a tape recorder, and clicked it on. “Alright,” Anton said. “The date is Saturday, October 12, 7:32am. Test subject seems to be sick with a fever. I’ll do some tests, and then–”

“Tests?” Dew asked miserably.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t feel good, Anton. Ca-can we just take a break? For one day?”

“You’ve had a lot of breaks recently, Dew. I wanna have some fun.”

“So do I.”

Anton shrugged. “The experiments are fun.”

“They are not! They’re– They’re painful and traumatizing!” Dew wrapped his wings around himself and curled deeper into a ball.

“...What’s fun for you then?”

Dew furrowed his brows. Was Anton really asking what Dew liked to do for fun? Why did he care? “Um,” Dew began. “Playing video games, drawing, going outside, flying. Anything that, you know, doesn’t hurt.”

“Hm.” Anton sighed. He looked deep in thought, which never ended well. “There is this one thing I’ve been wanting to try out.”

“...Does it hurt?”

“It shouldn’t,” Anton shrugged. “If you behave.”

“Mmm,” Dew hummed anxiously, considering his lack of options. “O-okay.”

Anton smiled wide and ruffled Dew’s hair, who in turn, tried not to shy away from it. Behaving meant accepting Anton’s kind gestures, right?

“Okay, so I guess you wanna be healed from your fever, huh?”

“What? You can…?”

Anton rolled his eyes. “Of course I can.” He pulled out a flask of glowing fluid from behind his back, and held it out to him. “Drink this. You should go back to normal. In fact, you’ll probably even feel better than you did before.”

Dew eyed the flask warrily. It was no different from the other strange fluids the scientist makes him drink, but this gave Dew a weird feeling. It was a dark purple, with rivers of red and colorful specks flowing through it. It looked thick, with bubbles popping and floating upwards. Just looking at it made Dew more nauseous, the opposite effect it was supposed to have, Dew thought.

But he reached out to grab it anyway, like Anton said. But as he was about to grab the flask, Anton pulled it out of reach.

“Dew, your hands are shaking. I don’t want you to spill it.”

Dew glared at him. “What even is it anyway?”

“Medecine.” Not helpful. “I can’t let any spill and go to waste. This stuff is hard to make.”

The “medicine” became more and more unappealing the longer Dew looked at it. But whatever, he’d rather just get this whole thing over with. “Fine.”

Anton grabbed Dew’s chin gently, and brought the flask towards his mouth. “Open.”

Dew opened his mouth and allowed Anton to bring the flask to his lips. Dew drank it; downed it all in one go, despite the disgusting taste. Anton let go of his chin and blacked away, now looking bored.

Dew felt… wrong. The second he was done drinking it, he was hit with a wave of dizziness, and leaned back against the wall for support. His eyelids were growing heavy, and it was hard to stay upright.

“What’s… happening?” Dew asked worriedly, voice breaking.

“Shh,” Anton cooed. “Just relax. When you wake up, you’ll be back to normal.”

Dew blinked heavily and tried sitting up, but Anton firmly pushed him back down. “What–”

“Go to sleep, Dew.”

Dew shook his head lightly, trying to stay awake. But once his head hit the soft pillow, and he was wrapped up in cozy blankets, his eyes finally fluttered shut. Everything went black, and Dew drifted off into a short, peaceful sleep.

Anton stepped back and looked around the room. “Holy shit this place is a mess.”

. . .

Dew woke up to see Anton leaning over him, with his usual smirk on his face. Dew’s face scrunched up in fear and he turned his head away. He wanted nothing more than to disappear into this warm bed forever.

“How’re you feeling?” Anton asked.

Dew glared at him, but after thinking about it, Dew realized he felt better.

“Woah,” he breathed. “I feel… great.” Great as in, Dew wasn’t tired anymore. He didn’t feel sleep deprived at all, quite the opposite really. Of course, he wasn’t sick anymore either. His headache was gone and his temperature was normal. Besides the obvious, stagnant feeling of fear and dread that came with being kept captive, Dew felt okay.

“Told you.” Anton teased.

“Thanks for… helping me. Really. I felt like complete shit earlier.”

“Yeah yeah,” Anton waved him off as if it didn’t matter. “I need to keep you healthy, remember? And it’s no fun when you’re… down in the dumps.” Anton trailed off. “Just eat your food.”

Dew looked at the tray. Waffles again, an apple, and a banana. As he ate, the scientist watched him.

“So…” Dew thought about what Anton said earlier, giving the empty tray to him when he was done. “What are we gonna do now?”

“Follow me.”

They headed out of the lab and up the stairs, Dew following closely behind. The scientist said nothing as they walked, allowing tension to rise in the air.

Dew also remained silent, but his mind wandered. Whatever Anton wanted to do involved going outside again, which Dew was always thankful for. Although this time, his captor hadn’t put any restraints on his wings yet, like he always did when they went outside to keep him from flying away.

Dew looked at the scientist incredulously. What was going on? Did he forget? Was this all some test to see if Dew wouldn’t try to fly away and escape? Why?

Dew kept walking by Anton’s side, too afraid to question anything. Maybe Anton just forgot. That’d be unlikely, but still possible.

Once they entered the cabin and Dew got sight out of the window, his wings started flapping lightly, excitedly, apprehensively. He wanted to fly– he needed to fly. His captor was taunting him with this. He had to be.

“A-Anton?” Dew squeaked. He didn’t want to point out the obvious, but he’d rather Anton do something about it now, rather than find out when Dew inevitably tried to escape while out there. Because Dew already knew that he couldn’t escape with Anton around, not without being so easily mind-controlled. “You um, you for-forgot something–” He hated himself for this, but Dew already had an escape plan. This could destroy it.

“I didn’t forget anything, Dew,” Anton said smoothly. “Come on, let’s go outside.”

Dew stood, glued to his spot. “I’m not stupid, Anton,” He hissed. “The second I go outside, I-I won’t be able to resist flying away, you know this! I don’t want you to hurt me for trying to escape again! I don’t want to be mind-controlled or poked with a needle o-or never be allowed outside again, or worse, just because of a stupid mistake!” I don’t want this to interfere with the plan I already have.

“Woah, jeeze,” Anton laughed. “Relax. This isn’t a trick—”

“That’s what you always say!”

“Dew,” Anton grabbed his shoulders, making eye contact. “I can assure you, this will be fun for you. As long as you behave. You can do that right?”

“Y-yeah, I can.” But he really didn’t want to.

“I know you can.” Dew flinched when Anton patted him on the head, and then they walked outside.

When they hit the fresh, cool autumn air, Dew’s wings stretched out to feel the wind in his feathers. He wanted nothing more than to jump in the air and disappear into the trees, but he had to control himself. His wings fluttered lightly in the air, basking in the sun and savoring this new sensation of a fake freedom.

This was okay. As long as Dew focused on his sensations now, he could deal with being stuck to the ground. He could gain Anton’s trust, he could stick to the plan.

Dew followed Anton a few steps away from the front door, and then off of the porch and into the grass.

“Fly.”

The word hit his ears like a truck. It was as if the entire world stopped, and all Dew could hear was his rapidly beating heart.

“W-what?”

Anton laughed, stepping away from his test subject. “You heard me, Dewey. Fly!”

“You said this– this wasn’t a trick.”

“Not a trick,” Anton snickered. “I can assure you.”

The scientist motioned with his arms, a big grin on his face. “Go ahead, fly.”

Dew glared at him, but he didn’t waste a second. He flew. He jumped up into the air and flapped his wings rapidly, never taking his eyes off Anton and the sickeningly sweet smile on his face. Dew blinked back tears, knowing freedom was right there, in his grasp. The scientist was allowing him to fly outside unrestrained, but still, Anton would never let him go. Dew didn’t know what his game was, but he knew it wouldn’t end well for him. He knew he would lose.

Dew swallowed thickly, flying just a bit higher, expecting to be shot down by tranquilizer darts or told to stop like last time— those words flowing into his brain and controlling his movements as if he was nothing but a puppet. His heart sped up when that didn’t happen, and he flew higher. His captor wasn’t doing anything besides standing there and watching him, his figure getting smaller and smaller the higher Dew went.

Dew couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He couldn’t resist freedom being closer than it had ever been before. His wings flapped into the air with a hope that was almost too much to bear. Was he really doing this? Was this it? He reached the top of the trees, and was about to fly above the forest and into the clouds when he suddenly felt a sharp pain all over his body.

A faint “It worked!” could be heard from the ground, but that hardly mattered.

Dew screamed, his voice a shattering shriek. He grabbed at his neck– his arms– his head– but the feeling of every fiber in his body being on fire wouldn’t go away. His eyes widened as he felt himself falling, trying and failing to flap his wings and catch himself. His wings had stopped working, going limp in the air while he cried. He couldn’t fly. He flailed his arms as he plummeted to the ground, down and down and down.

Dew landed roughly on a large tree branch, getting the wind knocked out of him and scraping his arms while trying to hang on. His body stinged, splinters digging into his hands and panic rising in his gut. Dew’s grip loosened and he tumbled to the ground, with no way to soften the landing.

He laid there for a few moments, his head pounding with a terrible ringing in his ears. His wings twitched as his muscles gained control over them and his body again. Dew’s hands curled into the dirt and he scrunched up in a ball, not caring that his hair was getting tangled in the autumn leaves. He didn’t move from the spot.

“Shit.” Dew heard the scientist curse as he ran towards him. Lying there would do nothing, Dew realized. He felt his blood boil, this time in anger as he turned his head to face him.

“Wh-what did you think was gonna happen?” Dew spat, still struggling on the ground, trying to sit up.

“I didn’t think you would try flying away, since I specifically told you not to,” Anton sneered.

Dew felt venom rise in his throat. “How could I resist? You told me to fly! Why the fuck wouldn’t I try to leave?!”

“Because you should have known I’m smarter than just letting you go like that. And because you should know you’re never leaving.” Anton sighed. “Come here, I’ll help you.”

“No.” Dew blinked back tears. His arm that he landed on hurt, bad. He needed help. But fuck, he was angry. Dew huffed in frustration and crawled towards Anton, letting the scientist help him stand. Dew leaned against him as they walked towards the cabin.

“W-what even happened up there?” Dew’s voice wobbled as he spoke. “What did you do to me?”

“Oh,” Anton took out the device he used for mind-controlling him. “If you fly too far away, there’s an invisible barrier that sends a shock through your nervous system to stop you from leaving.” Anton spoke as if that wasn’t completely earth-shattering news to his little lab rat. He set Dew down on the stairs, and took out a first aid kit.

“A-Anton,” Dew began, voice wavering. “Please, p-please tell me there’s a way to turn that off.”

“There is,” Anton replied simply. “But we’ll never need to use it.” Anton started looking over Dew’s wounds. He had a lot of cuts and scrapes from falling through the trees, but nothing that couldn’t be easily patched up. “I just thought it’d be fun for you to fly outside for once, safely, without risking you escaping.”

Dew ignored what the scientist was doing and stared at him, eyes burning with hatred. He could grab the pen from his pocket and stab it into the scientist’s eye and take the device that controlled his body. He could destroy it and fly away before his captor could catch him. He could be free. Right. Now.

Dew shook those thoughts away. It was the worst idea he had ever had, and he knew it would never work. He tried to calm his racing heart, and stop the fire rising in his throat. The scientist was just toying with him. He needed to calm down before he made things worse.

He hissed back a whine as his wounds were tended to. Anton didn’t seem to care about his pain, and held Dew firmly in place.

He looked at the sky, needing a distraction. But the sun was so bright and it hurt his eyes, so he looked away. He caught a glimpse of Sasha through the cabin window, and Dew tilted his head. They were watching him. Of course, Anton had allowed Sasha free reign of his house, probably even the outside too. The two of them stared at each other. Sasha knew what he was thinking, and the snake slowly shook their head “no.” Dew knew what they meant. Don't try escaping. It’s not your time. Stick to the plan.

Despite his friend only trying to help, Dew felt himself deflate, all the hope and fiery spark of adrenaline leaving him. His only option really was to comply for now, despite being so close to freedom. It would be hard; Dew would have to force himself to fly into the cool air while not going too far away. Whatever that meant.

“What now?” Dew asked begrudgingly.

“You and Sasha done with your staring contest?”

“Uh– yeah?”

“Then keep flying out here.” Anton shrugged and sat down on the porch stairs. “It’s what you always wanted to do, isn’t it?”

“W-well yeah, but—”

“I’m not letting you go. This is the closest thing you’ll ever get.”

Dew didn’t waste his time, he jumped into the air. He hovered in front of Anton for a few seconds, before darted away into the trees. Anton smirked and leaned back against the porch railing.

Dew flew over the cabin and landed on the roof. His heart pounded through his skull and he felt like it would explode. He wanted so badly to leave, fly away and never turn back. But he knew what would happen, so he would play Anton’s game. For now.

Dew sat perched up there for a few moments, looking around him. What were the limits? Dew questioned. Despite still being trapped, he wanted to make the most of this new development. How far could he fly without his entire body being electrocuted and cause his wings to momentarily stop working? Dew shuddered even thinking about it.

He wondered what his captor was up to. Dew slowly crawled across the roof and peaked over the edge directly above the scientist. Anton looked up, Dew scurred backwards.

…There always was the possibility of Dew being able to snatch that device away from him so he couldn’t be controlled anymore. He shuddered thinking about it. The chip in his brain that allowed himself to be mind-controlled, now shocked him whenever he went too far away. It was honestly impressive how much Anton could do to him now, just to keep him his.

But Dew knew that trying to escape would be futile now. He had a plan and needed to stick to it. But… Now there was a hole in their plan. Dew couldn’t actually leave. Shit.

He would have to tell Sasha about this new development later, and fit, “stealing the device connected to Dew’s brain chip from Anton,” into their escape plan.

So for now, Dew took advantage of his free time outside. He stood on top of the roof and spread his wings out, cherishing how relaxing and satisfying it felt to finally not have them restrained outdoors. He started flying again, careful to not go too high or far and hurt himself again.

He looked down to see Anton, nothing but a fleck of dust to him at this height. It felt so surreal, like a dream. Dew had dreamed a lot about days of flying freely, finally escaping the clutches of captivity and being kept as a test subject. This felt like those dreams, this felt too good to be true, even if he was still trapped. But it also felt so real.

…Because it was. Anton simply wanted to let Dew have fun for once.

“I’m going for a walk!” Anton called from below.

Dew stared at him, and then slowly made his way to the ground. He stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to say.

“You can come with me, you know.”

Dew looked at Anton, then back at the cabin. “But–”

“The barrier isn't surrounding the house, it's around me. As long as you’re by me, you’ll be fine.”

Oh.

Dew walked up to him. “Same, uh, distance?” He asked.

Anton nodded. “Same distance.”

With that, Dew darted up into the trees, out of his captor’s sight. Anton walked the same trail they always had, but instead of walking, Dew was hopping from tree to tree, taking the high ground. It was oddly satisfying watching the scientist from above, like he was nothing but a bug that could be easily stomped on.

As Anton kept walking, Dew kept following from above, sometimes gliding in a circle above the scientist, like a crow surrounding a decaying carcass. Anton paid him no mind, just kept walking at a leisurely pace, letting Dew explore the woods around him.

Then Dew sat, perched on a tree branch, when a squirrel scurried up to him. He went ridgid, expecting it to run away. But it sat there with him on that tree branch, doing its own thing. Dew stared, confused, but content. He and the squirrel were both just… existing. At the same time, in the same space, doing the same thing, but in far different circumstances neither of them could try to comprehend from each other. And that was okay. Dew liked existing with this little squirrel.

Dew sat there for a while, forgetting that Anton was still walking. After a few minutes, Dew realized that he’d get shocked again if he didn’t keep following along Anton. But he didn’t want to leave his new friend. He’d never see them ever again after this.

“A-Anton,” Dew said quietly, not wanting to spook away the squirrel that had curled up against his leg. The scientist was far up ahead of him, down the trail, probably assuming Dew would be keeping up. There was no way for Anton to hear what Dew was saying. He sighed, and called out a little louder this time. “Anton!”

That got his attention. Anton turned, looking around in confusion on where Dew’s voice was coming from, until he spotted him very high up in a tree.

“What?” Anton asked.

Dew gestured to the squirrel. “I, I wanna sit here for a little bit. With, uh, with the squirrel.”

Anton stared. “You do that then!” He called.

“...Thanks!”

Dew sat up there for a long time, unable to tell if it was minutes or hours. But by the sun setting and turning the sky into bright hues of pink and orange, Dew realized that Anton had let him spend all day out there. He realized he didn’t remember the last time he watched the sunset with anyone. And now here he was, sitting on a tree branch looking over the forest, with his squirrel friend still by his side.

But he was getting hungry. Obviously, it must be around 6pm now. The days had been getting shorter as the weather got colder, but it wasn’t like that mattered in the lab.

Dew said goodbye to the squirrel once it became too dark to see it. He landed softly on the ground, and found Anton sitting in some grass under the tree.

Dew choked back a laugh. “What are those?” He asked.

“Night vision goggles?” Anton crossed his arms. “I don’t want to lose sight of you out here.”

“They look so stupid.” Dew snickered.

“Shut up,” Anton said.

The two of them walked back towards the cabin, and Dew realized how cold it had gotten outside. Obviously, it was the middle of autumn. Dew shivered as he walked, socks getting wet from the dewy grass.

He walked inside without a fuss, wanting to warm up. As Anton kicked his shoes off, Dew took a look around his cabin, having never actually been inside this place much before.

And before Anton could escort him to the lab, Dew spoke up. “Where’s Sasha?”

“In their room.”

“Where’s that?”

Anton pointed to a door, “Over there.”

Dew nodded awkwardly and shuffled his way towards it.

“Woah, hey!” Anton stopped him from moving. “Why are you shivering?”

“...I’m cold?”

Anton rolled his eyes and stepped around the corner. He came back with a blanket and draped it around Dew’s shoulders. “You should’ve told me you were cold. I don’t want you getting sick again.”

“Oh. Okay. Can I go see Sasha?”

“I don’t see why not.”

The two of them spent the rest of their free day hanging out with Sasha in their enclosure. Anton had built a large enclosure, almost resembling a mini rainforest, inside one of the rooms in his cabin. It was a perfect habitat for his snake friend; their own little world to themselves. The scientist still gave Sasha free reign of the house, it was their home too, after all.

The three of them sat in a circle and talked for a bit. After a while, they sat in comfortable silence. It was peaceful, somehow. Dew felt safe.

. . .

It was getting late, and it was hard to believe that Dew had spent the entire day above the lab, without attempting any real escapes. It made Dew feel incredibly guilty, but he knew he had to wait it out. He had to gain Anton’s trust, and he had to wait for his plan.

Eventually, Anton took Dew back down the stairs. He said goodnight to Sasha, and walked down willingly. It was hard. Dew distracted himself by thinking of what’d it be like finally escaping this place, flying freely outside for real.

Soon, he thought. He’d get out of this place soon.

The lab was dark when they opened the door. As they were walking to Dew’s room, Anton spoke up.

“So, today was… fun. I suppose. I’m proud of you for not running.”

Dew’s heart sped up. “Um, y-yeah. Thanks.”

“I wouldn’t mind having one day of the week as a free day. As long as you keep behaving, I don’t see why not. I prefer to just always work on my experiments, but your needs need to be met as well, since you’ll be here forever. How does every Saturday sound?”

“G-good. Yeah. That sounds good.”

“Great.” Anton smiled. They arrived at Dew's room, and Anton opened the door for his test subject. Dew walked inside timidly, eyes downcast. He really was getting used to this routine.

“Goodnight, Dew.”

“...Night.” The lights flickered off and Anton was gone. Faint sounds of the scientist's footsteps could be heard walking through the lab and out the exit.

Dew sighed and laid down in bed. It was so quiet. Dew missed the sounds of the birds chirping, of leaves rustling in the wind. Dew missed existing in the same space with others in a way that felt safe. Dew missed flying outside. Holy shit, that was the best thing that had ever happened to him, despite falling to the ground and getting hurt.

It was surreal, the whole day. It would almost feel like a dream. His captor had not only agreed to give him one day a week free for him to do whatever he wanted, free from experimentation and pain, but allowed him to fly outside. Sure, there was now the threat of… being electrocuted every time Dew left the area around Anton’s cabin. That was bad. But it was progress. Flying outside was something Dew had always wanted to do since he got his wings, and he did it, just like that!

The only thing that would make it better was to fly freely. He’d get there, of course, once he escapes.

Speaking of escape, Dew sat up in bed when he heard the familiar rustle of the vents above his head, signifying Sasha was there. They were a better escape artist than he was, having already found a way down here from up there. Dew supposed that made sense; snakes were escape artists in nature.

“Hey!” Sasha said, opening the latch with their tail.

“Hi,” Dew said. He grabbed his new night-light and held it up to them. “Look what Anton got me. It’s a little ghost light.”

“That’s cool. What’s a ghost?”

“I guess you wouldn’t know, huh? Okay… Ghosts are spirits. Like, like the soul of a dead person, they don’t exist in the physical plane. Nobody can see or hear them, but they can haunt people. And they’re not real– obviously. I used to believe in ghosts and then… then my parents died. And uh, if ghosts were real, my parents would have probably found a way to contact me. But they’re gone. But that doesn’t matter!”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Let’s just hope I can get outta here before Halloween. This little ghost would be perfect for that.”

“You’ll get out in no time, Dew.”

“Yeah.” Dew turned the light on, surprising them both with the brightness of it. “And look! It’s really bright so it’ll be perfect for mapping things out up there. You might have a good sense of direction, but I don’t.”

“Good idea!”

“Let’s go, it’s kinda chilly in here.”

Dew and his escape artist friend hopped up into the vents, using his night-light to make a windy and swirly map that was somewhat beginning to make sense. Their goal was to find the quickest possible route to the surface and map out a real exit. The steps after that, well… Dew just hoped he could finally get out of this torment, mostly unscathed.

Not to mention, they now had to find a way to get that device away from Anton. Escaping the cabin is useless when Dew can’t even leave without being shocked.

But they were sure they could do it, if they kept working together. Exploring the vents had been fun with Sasha. Sometimes Dew would bring his blanket up there and they would use his night-light to tell stories. Dew was thankful to finally have someone he could trust here, to finally have a friend he could talk to.

And that filled him with more hope, knowing that he’d finally be out of here soon. He would finally talk to his friends again, and spend time with his pets. He would finally sleep in his own bed and wear his own clothes. He would do whatever he wanted. He would fly, truly free.

Dew was getting closer and closer to escape, and he couldn’t be more excited.

—

This is Dew’s ghost light btw

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