#hidden depths

[toyastales]

There is beauty in the murky depths of nature!

#toya's tales #terrarium #murky #hidden depths #depth #sofadesign #white sofa #sofa #treehouse #trees and forests #trees #foliage #stone wall #style #toyastales #toyas tales #home decor #interior design #beautiful #beauty #naturism #naturist #nature #home improvement #home design #architecture #modern #modern home #july #summer

[quofide]

Remembering "Angel Hare"

This is Angel Hare. An indie series made by the Mangan Sisters/The East Patch. Sometime around 2022.

It's one of my favorite Analog Horror Series. But sadly not a well known one. It's also relatively new as it's first episode is only a year old.

The next few excerpts I have taken from TV Tropes becouse I couldn't do them justice. I'm not a thief. Just incompetent.

"The story follows a young man named Jonah, who one day walks into a thrift store and discovers an official VHS copy of an old childhood show he used to love: Angel Hare, a 6 episode Christian based cartoon about the adventures of Francis the Badger and his friend Angel Gabby, the titular angelic hare.

Overcome by nostalgia and an old sense of comfort, he buys the tape, despite already having all the episodes of the original airing of the show recorded back home, anddecides to watch it, but he immediately notices that something is … off.

The show as presented on the tape is completely different from the one he remembers. Fortunately, he does have his own recording of the show to compare it to, so he starts uploading comparison videos of the two versions of the show onto Youtube.

From there he finds himself going down the rabbit hole of childhood memories as he slowly starts to realize exactly how strange his old recording actually is, and that Angel Gabby is definitely way more than she seems.

He may have forgotten Angel Hare, but Angel Hare sure hasn't forgotten him."

I watched the entire show at the beginning of the year. I loved it. But it looked like it was over...

UNTIL IT WASN'T!

They posted new Episodes! And made a new plot hook! I was even mentioned! Me! Some nobody from nowhere!

So in return I thought I'd try to support them in the only way I could before I get a Patreon. By spreading awareness baby!

So.. Uh... Go watch it? Subscribe to the East Patch, like and comment so the algorithm notices it.

It's a very unique type of story. Maybe even a bit of a subversion.

Also if you haven't noticed, I'm not very good at promoting.

#angel hare #analog horror #indie animation #things i love #Youtube #shameless promo #things i like #go watch it #it's good #nostalgia #more tags #how many tags can i add #Cool show #is this allowed #simplistic #Retro #tv tropes #small youtuber #Indiehorror #hidden depths #go watch this show #please? 🥺 #religious themes #angels #rabbit #spread awareness #cartoon #Web Video #Benevolent abomination #Analoghare

[triscribeaucollection]

New installment of my PJO Trade AU in the works:

So, apparently demigods didn’t get sick very often.

But when they did?

Hoooo boy did they pull out all the stops.

Thalia readjusted the thick cloth tied around her face and tucked into her shirt collar, before hefting up her latest pair of buckets filled with ice water. Almost made her wistful for the invisible spirit servants on Ogygia, honestly.

As best they’d been able to figure, it started in the Hermes cabin. Three separate new arrivals had come in the week before and been shuffled into the catch-all cabin, though only one stayed there as an unclaimed demigod, the other two heading off to Apollo and Demeter’s cabins, respectively. But regardless, at least one of them came in with some kind of nasty bug without showing any symptoms, and the Hermes kids were the first to get taken out.

Luke wasn’t the senior half blood by any means, but when the Head of the cabin went down puking her guts out, he took charge pretty quick. As soon as he realized more kids than not were dealing with the dizzy spells that preceded the sniffling and then vomit, Thalia’s best friend closed up shop, turning the whole cabin into a quarantine zone. Unfortunately, that practically guaranteed any camper inside who hadn’t caught the bug yet was screwed, but they all obeyed Luke’s orders, reluctantly agreeing to it for the greater good.

Then a daughter of Dionysus collapsed in the dining pavilion, and everything went downhill from there.

Twelve cabins housed all of Camp Half Blood’s demigod population. Three stood empty most if not all of the time (Artemis, Zeus, and Hera); that left nine full of teenagers ripe for infection. Five filled up with feverish groans fairly quickly. The Athena kids tried to close up shop before any of their members could get sick, but missed the mark, and within two days more than half of them were bedridden, including Annabeth. Thalia didn’t dare set foot inside, but she’d at least spoken to the younger girl a little through a closed window, and promised something special once Annabeth felt better.

“But if you die, I get to keep it,” she warned, only to laugh when the eleven year old petulantly stuck out her tongue.

The Apollo campers, gods love ‘em, emptied out the Big House infirmary and went mobile. Those who fell ill were banished back to their cabin, but the rest maintained the closest they could get to hospital protective gear and delivered soup, drinks, and other necessities to everyone else. Kids caught in the spiked fever phase were wiped down repeatedly with cold wet washcloths, while those wracked by dry heaving got the same pressed firmly against the backs of their necks.

But that meant a lot of cold wet cloth constantly warming up and drying out, which meant a fresh supply of ice water was badly needed.

Hence Thalia, decked out like a background extra in a post apocalypse film, lugging heavy buckets up to the cabins again and again and again. She wasn’t the only one by any means; the magical beings employed by Chiron as security and cleaning crew and whatnot were all pitching in too, since they couldn’t get sick like demigods. But that meant Thalia needed to dodge around other folks and their buckets on her back-and-forth trips, which felt progressively trickier as the fourth day of Camp versus Plague dragged on and warmed up.

At some point in the early afternoon, as she set down her empty buckets for another refill, an Apollo kid decked out in yellow vinyl gloves and an actual medical facemask came scurrying up to try and shove two wrapped sandwiches into her hands. “I just need one, thanks,” Thalia told him. Her stomach twisted; maybe make that only half of one.

But the kid shook their head. “The other’s for Percy.”

“Yeah, no, that’s gotta wait, I don’t set foot in our cabin until the end of the day, after I’ve scrubbed my skin down to the cellular level.” Like Tartarus was Thalia tracking germs home to infect her little cousin.

Above the line of their mask, the Apollo kid’s eyes scrunched. “But he’s not at the Poseidon cabin?”

“...what.”

“I saw him helping with laundry, just a little while ago. Looked like he was past ready for a break, too. Like you,” the kid added pointedly, before they successfully maneuvered the sandwiches into Thalia’s unresistant grasp. She only blinked as the twerp took off again, before tipping her head back with a groan.

Percy, helping out with laundry. When Thalia specifically ordered him to stay put in their cabin, away from fevers and vomit and all the camp-wide nastiness. For a moment she idly wondered if losing Poseidon’s favor would be worth strangling the self-sacrificing idiot.

...nah. Probably not.

Sighing, Thalia abandoned her buckets and went to find Percy.

If only so she could throw him headfirst into the lake.

#pjo #the trade au #think I'm gonna title this one #hidden depths #>:3

[lidensword]

Here's my attempt to put on paper the image I've formed of Blackpenny's two OCs (Juhasz and Helmi), from Hunter's Moond and Hidden Depths (Blackpenny's fics)

However, I wasn't sure about the length of Juhasz's facial hair. I tried two different styles but I'm still unsure about it.

#Blake et Mortimer #Blackpenny's fics #Blackpenny's OCs #Hunters's Moon #Hidden Depths #Blackpennies #my drawings

[starlit-hopes-and-dreams]

Chapter 21 ~ Blurry (out of place)

Hidden Depths

Previous ~ Masterlist ~ Next

Also on ao3

Genre: Fantasy whump

CW's: ANGST, omg the angst there’s so much o.o, flashback fun for everyone! 😅, brief nonspecific flashback to csa, panic attack(s), painful wound cleaning, wishing for death, unsure of what is real but not quite unreality so make of it what you will, oh shit-almost forgot: captivity tw, restraints tw :') been awhile since i needed those lol

WC: 4237

Taglist (😱 I remembered this time!): @clairelsonao3, @dont-touch-my-soup, @kixngiggles (i've been having trouble tagging you, but i wanted to put this up here in case you see and were wondering where your tag was)

In which reality is a bit fluid, folks, and no one is happy about it

AN: Including me, I was also unhappy writing this. I need that bunker to protect myself and also to piece my heart back together.

You know that whole bit about how things get worse before they get better? Yeah, that is this :')

Carr

Carr had plenty of time to review her options as she returned to the wreckage of their carriage to search for supplies. 

If she “stumbled” into the camp’s clearing, would the reaction be more favorable if she dressed as a man or a woman? Had it been long enough for the bandits to assume the other people in the carriage had died? Surely they had searched and been curious about the lack of bodies, though. Carr tapped a grimy finger on her lip, barely even seeing the gown she’d found stuck in a bush some ways from the crash site. 

Aside from the cut on her brow, Carr was also fairly sure she didn’t look like a survivor of the kindling strewn across the ravine. Which meant she could pretend to be a runaway, but… from where? Maybe she could get away with not wanting to say. Fuck if she could even remember the places they had visited. 

So. Girl or boy? Child or adult? Found on the outskirts of camp or by the guards on the fringe or just stumbling straight into the camp, bypassing the guards altogether? 

While she could physically pass as a child at first glance, it wasn’t a ruse she could keep up for long, and she needed these people to feel sorry for her and take her in. She wrinkled her nose and smoothed Orla’s dress out on the ground in front of her. It was torn in places, which was fine since Carr wanted it to look like she’d been roughing it for a few days. It would be too short, but not by much, so it might make her look… poorer. The material was still too fucking nice, though. Maybe if she got it dirty enough, no one would notice. 

Carr left the dress behind and returned to the carriage. Or what was left of it. After a bit of digging, she found one of Orla’s headscarves, this one a pale pastel blue. Perfect; the dumb dress was blue, so it would even match. She rolled her eyes at the thought. 

Her hackjob haircut was acceptable for a boy or young man but less so for a woman. She’d never cared about her hair before and wasn’t going to start now, but if she went with the fairer option of subterfuge, she’d need an excuse for that, too. Gods, this sucked. Why did that place have to be filled with what seemed like halfway-decent people instead of a bunch of lowlifes who’d look better with a few more holes in them? 

Which was another question. How many weapons could she get away with carrying? Carr ground her teeth, knowing very well she’d be lucky to justify just one, if it was found. 

Even if she went in posing as a man, she couldn’t carry as many blades as she had on her right now. But she’d all but decided on pretending to be a woman–it seemed more likely she’d just be killed straight off as a man–so one blade it was. She’d hide the others somewhere close to the camp so they’d be nearby if she needed them. 

She tried not to think of the last time she’d donned a dress while she stripped to her underclothes and pulled on Orla’s garments–which were slightly too small in the chest and shoulders as well as too short. 

The clothes she’d discarded served as a wrap for her extra blades; the only one she’d kept was strapped to her thigh beneath her skirts, which ended at mid-calf instead of her ankles. Each breath she took was stifled, and her range of motion was shit. This was starting off just wonderfully. 

It just needed to get her into the camp, she reminded herself. Too small clothes, chopped off hair, small and skinny with a bruised face… someone would take pity on her. They had to. 

Carr hadn’t caught sight of Resh in a day and a half. She’d spent all damned day watching the fucking camp. Now dusk was approaching, and she wasn’t willing to wait another night. She needed in now, and gods help these people if she didn’t like what she found. 

~~~

Resh

Resh’s head hurt–like ice-picks stabbing his eyes, vice-grip around his temples, skull about to crack like an egg hurt. 

The pain about drowned out the red-hot pulsing under his collarbone. The rest of his body didn’t feel all that great either. 

He groaned soundlessly and tried to curl up on his side.

Resistance. He couldn’t move his arms. 

Nothing but darkness greeted him when his eyes snapped open. Which his head appreciated, but his mind not so much. Resh yanked on his arm, but the motion had no effect except to send shards of agony lancing through his chest. Shit, his ribs… gasping shallowly for air, he stilled. 

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck

The air went nowhere as everything he thought he knew splintered and warped, aided by the throbbing in his head. He was lying on something hard, in the dark, his limbs tied down, pain splintering through every facet of his being. 

It was a dream. It had to be a dream. He squeezed his eyes closed, willing himself to wake up. To not be back there. The last weeks couldn’t have been the dream. They couldn’t have they couldn’t! 

He started struggling again, hoping he would wake up if he hurt himself in real life, but a voice penetrated the weighted silence, its owner sounding as if the person was moving. Straining his ears, Resh paused, listening.  

“Burning pits, Lox, did you see his forehead? He’s a royal mage, we can’t be stealing royal mages!” 

A royal mage? Horror washed through him at the thought. Is that what the prince had done when he’d branded him? Claimed him for the Crown? Fuck; fuck! 

And who was that talking? No one spoke in his dreams but the prince, which meant… 

His stomach twisted. This was real? But then, the prince shouldn’t know about his magic, not unless he’d used it without realizing… He cringed as a vicious throb tried to liquefy his brain. It felt-it felt like a reaction headache–oh gods, what had he done?

“If such a thing even exists, we could surely ransom him. If not, could you imagine how useful a Kinetic would be? I’m not interested in killing people–I don’t want another such occurrence as what just happened. Robbing people is annoying, sure, but killing them will get us hunted down and exterminated.” 

The unknown voices moved on, becoming indistinguishable before fading away completely. The meaning of the words barely penetrated the fog of Resh’s panic, but one thing stood out. 

Ransom? But–he tugged on his wrists, wincing as coarse rope chafed his skin. Everything felt muddled and upside down and wrong and–Carr! Killing people? Carr killed people, but… that’s not what that person had meant, now was it. Resh’s heart was beating so hard he thought it might break through his chest. His eyes couldn’t penetrate the darkness, his thoughts couldn’t…

Flashes of memory, purple light flooding a carriage. He had tried so hard to cushion them with his magic… Lightning speared through his head, obliterating the memory. Resh cried out, nothing emerging but a puff of air. 

Hot tears trickled down his temples, tracking down into his hair as his breathing quickened. He’d failed. If killing people was bad, if they wanted him so it wouldn’t happen again–it meant he’d failed, that Carr and his sister were–were dead. 

He keened silently at the thought until the pain in his chest left him too breathless to continue. His mind twisted again as he lay there, panting through the waves of physical and emotional agony. 

But was that–was that real? The carriage, the crash–had that happened? Or–he pulled on his arms again–was he still in the prince’s torture chamber, awaiting the man’s next godsforsaken sadistic whim? 

Resh shuddered, his heart beating erratically while his skin flushed hot then cold, leaving him clammy and even more uncomfortable. He couldn’t–he couldn’t… His thoughts scattered, his mind shutting down. 

As pain and despair dragged him back under, he couldn’t decide which reality would be worse. 

~~~

Carr 

Branches whipped past Carr as she ran, one etching a line of fire across her cheek when she misjudged the distance in the waning light under the Seleni Wood’s canopy. Shouts echoed behind her, and an arrow whizzed past, barely missing as it embedded into a nearby tree with an ominous thud. 

Fuck fuck fuck. She’d meant to get close enough to the camp to approach one of the women, figuring she’d have better luck appealing to them than just walking into a bandit camp and looking stunned, an easy target for archery practice. 

The perimeter had been guarded more heavily than she’d been able to tell from afar. Now, she was a moving archery target. Less easy, surely, but fuck it all, not ideal. Her heart thrummed quickly enough that the individual beats were indistinguishable as she ducked under a low-hanging branch and swung around a tree, heading deeper into the underbrush. She could get away, probably. But that would defeat the purpose, so she needed to allow herself to be caught. Without getting killed, preferably. 

But the men chasing her would tackle her, take her down. The thought made her skin crawl–would they stop there, buy the not-so-much-an-act she’d put on, or would they prove to be the brand of bandits she’d originally thought they’d be? 

It’s for Resh. She repeated the thought over and over as she “tripped” and curled up on the ground, covering her scarf-wrapped head. Her body quivered for real as she awaited either an arrow to the back or rough hands grabbing her. 

Thankfully–but also not–callused fingers wrapped around her wrists in a bruising grip, forcing her arms to the ground by her head as a large man dressed in patched leathers straddled her body. 

“The fuck,” he said, staring down into what Carr supposed were her saucer-wide eyes. 

Eyes that rapidly filled with tears as she put up a weak struggle against his hold. It took everything she had not to wrap her legs around the man’s waist and flip him off her–would’ve been hard to do in the stupid too-tight dress anyway, and moreover, would’ve been suspicious. But gods. 

“What’ve you got?” another male voice called from somewhere to her left. 

“A fucking woman,” her captor responded, gripping her wrists even harder. He moved, placing one knee between her legs, which effectively pinned them in place within the prison of her skirts. 

Carr went limp, focusing all her energy on convincing her body not to fight and flee. Her heart was beating so hard she was sure the man could hear it. 

“Are there more?” a third voice asked. Crunching followed their question, the person moving with no care through the detritus of the forest. 

The man cocked a dark brow at her. “Well?” 

She shook her head frantically. “N-no. No. Please–” Her voice cracked, and she snapped her mouth closed, swallowing against the tears thickening her throat.  

Rotten breath wafted across her face while a hand swept under her skirt. 

“That’s right, be a good girl now and I’ll be nice to you, I promise.” 

One hand pinned both her wrists now while the other swept over her body, then beneath her skirt, unerringly finding the blade strapped to her thigh. 

She shivered beneath the too-large body, her cheek throbbing where he’d already hit her, her wrists aching beneath his hold. 

Her wrists ached beneath the man’s hold as he held up the dagger and laughed. “Do you even know how to use this?” 

A mixture of rage and shame set her face aflame, and the cut on her cheek throbbed. Her breath caught. 

Dark hair curled around his face, framing amused blue eyes that quickly darkened with concern. “Hey, are you alright?” 

The hand covering her mouth after she’d screamed for help was too big. It covered her nose as well and she couldn’t breathe couldn’t breathe couldn’t 

She couldn’t breathe, the air she sucked in between choked-off sobs going nowhere as she battled her past to stay in the way too similar present. 

“Shit.” The man scrambled off her, calling out to his friends. 

The words he exchanged with them made no sense through the ringing in her ears. Pinpricks of white flashed before her eyes, and aside from tucking her hands beneath her chin, Carr didn’t move–couldn’t move.  

Memory flickered in and out of her mind’s eye–no matter what, it was always this one she was thrown back into. This one that haunted her dreams. This one that paralyzed her, highlighting how fucking helpless she’d been–

Carr pushed up with a wheezing gasp, flinching as hands reached out to help her. She was not helpless; she was just pretending. Pretending pretending pretending

A hand moved over her back, up and down, up and down, and she trembled, desperately trying to keep still and allow this strange man to comfort her. 

“Hey, it’s alright,” he murmured. “I’m sorry about before, we thought… it doesn’t matter what we thought.” Leaning forward, he caught Carr’s eyes. “You with me now?” 

She nodded, averting her gaze so he wouldn’t see how much she wanted to turn and rip his hand off. Her skin prickled. 

“Look like you’ve been through it. You need help?”

Not trusting her voice, she nodded again. 

Someone scoffed. Movement caught in her peripheral vision, and she twisted her head, rearing back. The man’s hand moved, tightening around her shoulder. 

“Just gonna take her at her word? Probably some thief putting on an act.” 

Her captor-turned-protector pulled her back against his chest. She made herself melt into him, pulling up her legs to make herself smaller while the new bandit glared at her suspiciously. 

“You didn’t see her when I had her pinned. No one puts on an act like that.” Her bandit’s voice dripped with derision. 

Carr couldn’t decide if it was directed towards her or the other man. Didn’t matter, long as he decided she was worth helping. Take me back, take me back, take me back, she chanted in her head. Her body shaking like a leaf was entirely unfeigned; the reaction disgusted her, but she didn’t suppress it, letting her fucking weakness serve its purpose.  

“She needs help.”  

“So bring her some supplies and send her on her way. We gotta get back to our post,” the suspicious one said. 

“More help than that!” her bandit responded hotly. 

Carr let a small whimper escape, pressing a hand to her mouth after in a show of embarrassment. Her bandit held her closer, and she closed her eyes, trying to imagine he was Resh so she wouldn’t do something stupid like pull his dagger and slit his throat. She wanted to crawl outta her skin. She couldn’t. Couldn’t couldn’t couldn’t.

“You gonna take responsibility for her?” another voice cut in. There was an extra layer of meaning beneath their tone that Carr didn’t trust in the slightest.

Shit, she’d forgotten about the third bandit. She snapped her head around, watching that one’s approach closely. Tall and slim, with toned muscles evident beneath gear in better condition than the other two, they moved fluidly through the brush towards her. Both her bandit and the suspicious one went still, waiting quietly as they studied Carr. Clearly, that one was the leader and would be the deciding factor on whether she was getting into the camp or not.  

Carr dropped her gaze when they crouched before her, jabbing their bow into the ground to lean upon. Their gaze felt like tiny bugs crawling across her skin, and she shivered. 

After what felt like forever, they finally nodded and stood, strapping their bow over their shoulder. “Fine. Let’s get back. Lox’ll have your hide for this, just so y’know.” 

The suspicious one huffed, sounding dissatisfied.

A thrill went through Carr as her bandit assisted her to her feet, but she kept her eyes wide and expression fearful. 

“C’mon,” he said gently, settling his arm around her shoulder. 

Ugh. But she leaned into him, allowing him to lead her back to the camp. Her eyes snagged on her dagger, shoved without care through the man’s belt, and her fingers twitched, itching to thieve it back. 

Not yet. She had to pretend a bit longer. For Resh. 

~~~

Resh

A cool cloth brushed over the sensitive skin of Resh’s forehead, waking him. 

His head didn’t hurt as badly, but gods, he felt like he was on fire, his flesh burning, set aflame from a single pulsing point on his chest. 

Subtly, he pulled on his arms, only to find they were still restrained. A shiver went through him, and the cloth pulled away abruptly. 

Resh cracked open his eyes to find a stocky figure sitting beside him, the lamplight flickering over their shoulder-length blond hair. He caught a flash of green as they turned their head to the side, and his insides froze over even while the heat scalded his skin. 

“Good, you’re awake,” the figure said, turning back to him holding a wooden cup. “You need to drink.” 

He shook his head, even though his mouth was dry, so so dry. No. No no nonono he wasn’t back with the prince he wasn’t he wasn’t he–

A hand gripped the back of his head, forcing it up as the cup was pressed to his lips. Liquid poured in, and he choked, unready. It kept coming anyway, so he forced himself to drink through the coughing. It was that or drown. 

“Good, that’s good,” the prince said. 

Resh sobbed as he was released, then pressed his lips together to suppress another bubbling cough. He squeezed his eyes closed, unwilling to look at the rest of his surroundings. Unwilling to see white limestone, the final confirmation of his delusions. Real, this felt so real. Too real. 

But so had everything else! Carr, finally, finally talking to him in that meadow. Her small hands removing his gloves, resting against his cheek, soothing him after a nightmare. 

His sister, healthy, her hair growing, her skin losing its pallor. Laughing and joking and enjoying their journey. 

Had it really all been a figment of his imagination? A fever dream? He certainly felt like he had a fever. His heart cracked, the pieces crumbling as he came one step closer to believing the torture chamber was his reality. Maybe he would actually die this time, and it could all just be over. 

“He looks like shit,” a different voice said. Deeper. 

“Yeah, well. You shot him. Don’t know what you expected, really. Don’t think it hit a lung, at least, or surely he’d be dead by now.” 

He wished he was. Gods, how he wished he was.

“I need your help. Need to wash the wound out again, but he always fights, even restrained. Tore the stitches out once already.” 

A sigh, then hands clamping on his shoulders–his bare shoulders–pressing them flat against the hard surface he laid upon. Pain lanced through his chest, and he cried out soundlessly, trying to pull away. Another figure straddled his hips, pinning him down even more. 

“We’re just trying to help you!” one of them shouted at him, but he didn’t, couldn’t trust the words, especially as the liquid poured over his chest. 

He could feel it bubbling in the wound, the fire multiplied by a thousand, burrowing in to burn him alive inside now as well as out. He would’ve screamed, had the prince not ripped even that away from him already. 

“I know it hurts, and I’m sorry, but I have got to clean out the wound.” 

Lies. He wasn’t sorry. Resh shook his head from side to side, straining, desperate to get away from it. Lies lies lies lies

“He hasn’t made a single sound, but he looks like he’s screaming.” 

“Have you seen his chest? This guy has been through some shit. I don’t like doing this, Lox.” 

“It needs to be done, or he’ll die. Do you want that?” 

The words washed over Resh, a haze of agony coating everything. They didn’t make sense. Who the fuck was Lox? But he blinked as the pain died down a little, saw the prince bending over him, and didn’t know anymore. 

What was real? This pain was real–but was it? Sometimes it wasn’t, he remembered, but then more liquid poured and his mind whited out under the blistering pain and his throat strained to make sounds it was no longer capable of producing. 

When he came back around, the shape of familiar words flying off his lips–please, no more, please, no more–someone was gently patting at his chest, saying the last words he expected. 

“I’m sorry, I know it hurts. I’m trying to be as careful as I can. Sorry.” 

Exhausted, Resh laid his head back down. His shoulders were no longer pressed down, and there was no weight across his waist. He opened his eyes but allowed them to skim past that person who was the prince who wasn’t the prince because they kept apologizing every time he flinched. 

A flash of blue caught his attention, just past the large man blocking most of the doorframe across the room. The room with whitewashed wooden walls, not stone. Or was it? Oh gods. He blinked. Hazel eyes peered under the man’s–Lox’s?–arm, there and then gone so quickly Resh wasn’t sure he’d seen correctly. 

But he’d know those eyes anywhere, and his heart leapt. 

It just didn’t make sense. Nothing was making sense. 

The cup was pressed to his mouth again, and Resh swallowed this time instead of choking, grimacing at the sticky sweetness left behind on his tongue. The other man was gone by the time he finished, and so was the person in blue. 

It couldn’t have been Carr, then. 

It couldn’t have been anyway because if this was not the torture chamber, then Carr was dead. Orla was dead. He had as good as killed them, making them travel across the country with him. 

Resh turned his head away from the cup when it was offered again, and this time the prince not prince didn’t push it on him. 

He watched dully as they dimmed the lamp, then left the room, the sound of a lock snicking closed horribly familiar. 

And yet, he didn’t care. 

Worse, he decided as the room began to waver in his vision. As his heart caved in and left what felt like a jagged, fist-sized hole behind. As his chest heaved with the silent sobs he no longer bothered to hold back. This was so much worse. 

His crying sparked lancets of agony radiating across his body from the burning wound under his collarbone. Every stuttering gasp felt like inhaling shards of broken glass. He welcomed the pain. 

But whatever had been in the water fuzzed his mind, and his eyes eventually drifted closed, his breathing leveling off. The tears tracking down his temples followed him into his drugged sleep. 

~~~

Carr

Carr’s bandit marched her straight into the biggest of only three cabins in the bandit’s little valley, past the watchful eyes of probably most of the place’s inhabitants. 

Demex, he’d told her his name was.  

Well, Demex bore up against the scrutiny well, even as Carr cringed away from it. Maybe because she cringed, which he could very well tell with his arm around her shoulder, dragging her body into his side. She permitted it. She had no choice, now did she. 

For Resh. 

Demex bore up less well under Lox’s scrutiny. Carr flattened herself against the wall, ostensibly hiding behind her bandit while he got his ass handed to him, but really the positioning allowed her to see under Lox’s arm into the room he was trying to block with his body. Kind of. 

She caught flashes of someone moving around a bed. What looked like medical supplies on a nearby table, some bloodied bandages. 

And then–a pair of red-rimmed brown eyes. Their gazes met for all of five seconds before the person at his bedside blocked her view, but Carr was certain it was him. 

Her heart sped up, her breaths quickening. So fast! She couldn’t believe she’d found him so quickly. And he was alive. Her knees buckled as relief sluiced through her, and all that saved her from sliding down the wall was Demex’s hand slipping around her waist. 

“Hey there, you alright? Rowan is a little busy right now, but they can check you out in the morning, if that suits?” 

“Alright,” Carr said faintly. She willed strength back into her legs. “Wh-what now?” 

“What now is you get to talk to me,” Lox said, stepping out of the room and closing the door behind him.  

The only thing that stopped her from snatching her dagger back, burying it in this guy’s chest, and bursting into that room to get to Resh was that it appeared as if they were caring for his injuries. 

And the small matter that a move like that would certainly get her killed. But she would’ve done it regardless, if she’d thought it necessary. 

Not yet, she told herself, staring up into the eyes of the man who’d chased their fucking carriage down.

#hidden depths #whump #whump writing #original writing #original characters #fantasy whump #warnings above the cut #captivity tw #restraints tw #flashback tw #panic attack tw #wishing for death #painful wound cleaning

[hermitletters]

I am too afraid of the sun

for

I always was the daughter of the moon

-sea

#female writers #female poets #spilled ink #poetas do tumblr #woman writers #spilled heart #tangled depths #poetrty #writerscribbles #writers block #darkpoetsociety #deep feelings #sad lonely hours #deep poetry #hidden depths #deep underground poetry #deep thoughts #writer speaks #writerblr #deep quotes #relationship quotes #inspirational quotes #sad poem #daily poem #sad post #my words #word of the day #quotes to think about #original poem

[jpitha]

Hey all,

I'm wrapping up JALF now (I'm a few posts ahead of where y'all are.) and thinking about what happens next. JALF is officially the longest thing I've ever written, and that's pretty cool!

All this is to say that I don't know what my posting schedule is going to be once JALF is done. I'll probably take time to compile and edit the manuscript and then go from there.

I've also been looking back on HD and am going to undertake a major rewrite. I don't know if I'll post the rewrite or not (let me know) but the gist is I'm probably going to pull the whole Alia Colony Ship story line from the story and replace it with more Nilan and Ta'reni. I think I had too many POVs in HD and want to cut it back to make the story clearer.

#jpitha #the k’laxiverse #just a little further #hidden depths #writing update #sci fi writing #writing

[erevosvoid]

A burn on the tongue

Some scars on the ribs

The glass half way to the next full of liquor

The cigarette stub illuminates the dark

You count the memories that hurt and you start bleeding

You are in fear and live the nightmare

You are in pain and live in hell

A swamp of overthinking swallows you to vomit you in the void

You have a knot around your neck and a sword in you hand

Mercury is down but the clock won't stop

The time has come to reap the fruits of you labour

You serve them on the table and you stare in admiration

But the taste is horrible

Who are you gonna invite to enjoy the fruits together?

#dark poetry #poetry #dark thoughts #my thougts #bad desicions #hidden depths #self destructive tendencies #self h@rm #tw self h4rm #mental problems #tw s3lf harm #dark souls #dark art #darkness

[un-poquito-de-monica]

There isn't enough alrawabi school for girls content on this app. Like, I see the pictures and the edits but I'm going to start some Diss Course.

Specifically about Rania. (My love)

Finally figured out the cut thing. tw: abuse :)

Isn't she lovely?

Anyways she's kinda relatable (I'm not a bully I promise please hear me out). So Rania is one of the popular, cool kids, she's pretty, she's in that Golden Popularity Trio, she's rebellious but never gets caught, she has AMAZING hair, the works.

But if you get far enough into the show you realise that all of that "perfection" is hiding the physical abuse she receives from her dad. And I haven't watched the show in a while, yes I did just decide to post about a show I haven't watched in ages, But I'm not really sure if Layan and Ruqayya know about it or not. Those are her bestest friends and they might be toxic to everyone else but not to her. Perhaps they help distract her from her bad home life in a way, but also it hurts my heart to think that she's dealing with all that alone with nothing but jokes and makeup to cover it and pretend like everything is ok.

Oh yea I forgot to mention she's also a silly goofy gal! She is always making jokes, and seems like the happiest most carefree person to ever exist in this stuffy private school. But of course, at least some of that has to be an act. And watching her put up an act all the time hurts my poor dear heart.

Yea. If I ever rewatch the show I might add more to this post, but that's it for now! She's very relatable to me for the above reasons and that's why she's my fav character. The end.

#tw abuse #alrawabi school for girls #rania #fandom #hidden depths

[little-peril-stories]

faves

I've avoided making a 'favourites' list so far because I've actually only read a pitiful amount of what's available here on Tumblr/whumpblr. So take the shortness of this list as a result of my...uh, my day job (and totes not my scattered, easily distractible brain). There's so much good stuff out there so you should absolutely look at other folks' recommendations as well!!

these are not in order of preference! it's just a list!

Hidden Depths by @starlit-hopes-and-dreams. Arc 1 is complete and Arc 2 is underway and let me tell you, I am pretty much in love with, like, all the characters. Marcus is also on my list of favourite villains ever. :) Be aware of blood, gore, heavy torture, and some sexual content (looking at you, AU).

Good Slaves Never Break the Rules by @clairelsonao3. Every chapter ends with me sending freakout messages and then writing novellas in the ao3 comments. If you love incredible pacing, compelling characters, plot twists, and CLIFFHANGERS, then please please go check this out! Be aware of some heavy themes and topics (slavery, injustice, amongst others) and some sexual content.

Nuisance by @i-can-even-burn-salad (Elli also has a BUNCH of other great stories but I picked this one because it has my fave characters in it :)))). Nuisance is also available as an ebook which is AWESOME! Merridy is my little darling and the development of her friendship with Cedric, my Actual Fave <3, is *chef's kiss*. Be aware of blood and barbed wire.

All of these have beautiful writing and compelling characters, which are A Must for me. If you think you might be interested, please enjoy. :)

#wij23day7 #whumpmasinjuly2023 #whump faves #nuisance #gsnbtr #hidden depths

[howifeltabouthim]

. . . it's impossible to know how people live inside themselves, isn't it? I mean, a life could seem boring on the outside and be tumultuous within.

Siri Hustvedt, from The Blindfold

#hidden depths #inner life #i've got a war in my mind #tumultuous #true self #identity #appearances can be deceiving #quotes #lit #words #excerpts #quote #literature #siri hustvedt #the blindfold

[da-stigy-blog]

#NewArtworkAlert

Continuing a month of Hidden Depths content, featuring several of the ladies scuba diving! Next up is the lovely Tenten!

Exclusively on the Legion Art Feed! www.patreon.com/dastigy

#scubadiving #underwater #naruto #hidden depths #tenten

[darkcottoncandy]

Maybe some words are better when left unsaid because people can find wrong intentions even behind the truest words.

#raw truth #positive words #love yourselves #spilled thoughts #hidden depths #intention #unsaid #shinee #wordplay #writers block #writerscorner #writers of tumblr #female writers #small writing #writings #true words #night writing #wise words #feelings #life quote #quoteoftheday #literature #art #wordart #beautiful quote #quotes #sayings #musings #journal

[surrender2000]

"As such, just as our emotional connections can elevate us, they can also bring us down or debilitate us. Whilst most of us discover our greatest joy and happiness in our relationships with others, our human emotional connections also mean that we can be disabled by grief and find it almost impossible to live without loved ones. We all too often find ourselves uniquely connected to another’s suffering, crushed both emotionally and physically by cruelty or the wrong type of social connection, or debilitated by isolation or loneliness (Bzdok and Dunbar 2020; Gilbert 2021; Spreng et al. 2020). This emotional sensitivity seems hard to explain within a functional evolutionary framework, and is rarely acknowledged in broader society. Yet, far from a fault, it is also an essential part of human experience."

Hidden Depths, by Penny Spikins

#hidden depths #penny spikins

[oktatabyebye]

The bottom of my coffee mug is nothing less than art.

#art #artisticinspiration #coffee #coffee mug #bottomposting #hidden depths #crazy

[starlit-hopes-and-dreams]

Chapter 19 ~ Hope is a dangerous thing

Hidden Depths

Previous ~ Masterlist ~ Next

Also on ao3

Genre: Fantasy whump

CW: everyone is just *full* of self-blame, are we happy? Huh? So uh, blood, impalement–technically if you’re shot with an arrow you get impaled, right? Right. Also, *drumroll* lots of angst *gasp* and a healthy dose of denial. And I guess a tiny bit of minor whump, bc Orla, but it’s next to nothing, I swear. Unless you count the angst, cuz then we're all screwed 😂

WC: 2735

In which I really wanted some whump. I'm sorry but not really XD

AN: Ch 19 AKA the bitch chapter. I don't think I'll ever be completely happy with it so here it is. Sorry it took two months 😅

Orla

A grand adventure. 

That’s how Orla had imagined the idea of leaving the city, traveling north until they found a quaint little village or maybe even a town to settle in. 

She’d pictured it in her mind, aided by the sketched illustrations in some of the books she’d read in the palace’s library. A small village, each house a cozy cottage with a thatched roof, filled with kind people: families, grandparents, children, a whole community, one who would welcome them in with open arms. Resh could take up their father’s business or maybe even return to carpentry, although she wasn’t certain he’d apprenticed long enough. 

A wave of longing for a life long gone washed over her, leaving behind slimy strands of loss and guilt. She pushed them away. Carr and her brother had those emotions covered in spades. 

She glanced up from her book at her brother. The dark circles under his eyes were deepening, looking like bruises that worsened with each day that passed. Carr had noticed them as well and clearly had as much clue about how to deal with her brother’s sleepless nights as she did. 

The guilt resurged; Carr thought she was at fault for what happened to Resh, but Orla knew better. Her brother had sold himself to the Crown for her, because she’d been ill. The words on the page before her blurred, so she looked out the carriage’s window instead, distracting herself with the view. 

Dappled sunlight filtered through the leaves adorning the great trees of the Seleni Wood, leaves that were as big as her head. She’d found one on the ground and tested that claim, then rolled it up and stuck it in her bag to study closer later, fascinated with the white veins that contrasted sharply with the dark green of the rest of the leaf. Sturdy too, that leaf. The locals used them to wrap food they intended to smoke. 

Orla liked the Wood. The shade provided some relief from the oppressive warmth they’d found in the north, warmth that didn’t seem near to tapering off even though it was late summer.  

She would’ve liked to live here, but none of the towns or villages west of the Wood had been suitable. The people had either been too insular or downright hostile, so they were heading back east. Weeks of travel had dampened Orla’s initial excitement as much as her brother’s declining state. Nothing was as she had imagined, and she had an active imagination. 

Like now. She had to be imagining all those eyes glinting out of the undergrowth as they passed by on what felt like increasingly unstable ground. It was bad enough that she closed her book and replaced it in her bag, right in time for the carriage to lurch to the side, slamming her into the wall with a squeak of surprise. 

“The fuck!” Carr shouted. 

Orla was impressed at how quickly Carr roused from her nap to full awareness, anchoring herself before she could be tossed from the bench seat. The carriage picked up speed, and the wood creaked, protesting the increased pace. Resh and Carr exchanged a loaded glance. 

“What is it?” Orla asked, her voice cracking as the carriage pitched again. 

Resh caught her arm before she could hit the wall a second time–Orla was thankful, her shoulder already throbbing from her previous impact. He said something to her, but she wasn’t very good at lipreading, despite Carr’s efforts–something with a b, and the rest was lost; she shook her head, wiping her sweaty palms on her skirts. 

He shoved himself in the corner, one arm on each wall, one foot on the ground with the other on the bench. Then he moved, pointing to her. Oh. Brace yourself, maybe? Orla followed her brother’s example, clenching her teeth to keep from biting her tongue when the carriage bounced roughly again. 

Sometime during that demonstration, Carr had put her boots back on and opened the sliding door to the front. 

“We bein chased?” Carr asked the driver. 

The rest of the conversation faded to the background as Orla caught a glimpse of a bearded man on horseback through the opposite window, holding a bow. Rangers carried bows, Orla knew. Maybe this one needed their help with something? The carriage veered sharply then, and Resh lunged across the seats to stabilize Carr. 

The bearded man returned, slightly behind and to their left, but visible to Orla nonetheless. He smiled when he caught Orla’s gaze, and her eyes widened. She’d never seen a smile that looked less like one than his. A chill skittered down her spine, worsening when he pulled an arrow from what looked like out of nowhere and nocked it. 

She felt frozen, her muscles locked in place. Her throat closed up, refusing to let more than the barest whisper of air through, nowhere near the scream she wanted to loose. The arrow flew through the window, embedding in the wall right next to where her brother was holding Carr steady. Orla watched as a crimson stain spread on her brother’s upper arm. 

He grimaced, but the wound didn’t stop him from grabbing her and Carr and shoving them to the floor of the carriage. Orla curled into a ball, shivering. Why was this man chasing them? Was there only one, or were there others? The eyes she’d seen in the brush returned to haunt her with possibilities. 

“Damnit, Resh, I can help,” Carr snarled, popping back up to rummage through the compartment under her seat. 

But Resh spun, his hands going through one of the short, succinct signs Carr had taught them, one Orla recognized as ‘hold’. 

The sign wasn’t really necessary, though, not with her and Carr both staring at the purple glow overtaking Resh’s brown eyes. 

Orla gasped; it was the first time she’d seen him use his magic since he’d come back. She’d missed it. Missed the bond she’d shared with her brother because of it.  

When she was little more than a toddler, she’d been more fascinated by the pretty purple light than the blocks Resh would float in the air for her entertainment. It was their secret, he would tell her as he built impossibly high towers for her to knock down. 

It was their secret, he’d whisper, when he’d return with some fruit or bread at the end of a miserable, rainy day spent cowering under an alcove, hoping no one would kick them out for loitering.

Their secret, when he’d brush what remained of her hair out of her face, allowing just a hint of purple to shine in his eyes because he knew she loved it so. 

Later, when the queen had deemed her well enough to resume her schooling, she’d learned more about magic. About how dangerous it had been to be a mage in Elysia. How it was still dangerous, the population’s opinion on magic widely divided. 

This must be bad if it wasn’t their secret anymore. 

“Orla.” 

A hand patted her cheek with stinging force, just short of a slap. She blinked, feeling confused until the carriage tilted crazily again. Her arms shot out, bracing against the seats. 

“You can’t freeze up, Orla,” Carr said, grabbing her hand and pressing a dagger into it. 

The leather-wrapped handle felt foreign in her hand. It felt wrong, and she wanted to drop it. The look Carr leveled at her changed her mind, her fingers tightening around the hilt almost on their own. 

“If anyone comes near you, stick that in them, hard, as hard as you can, you hear? Then you run. Run as if your life depends on it.” 

“Who…” Orla’s mouth was far too dry. She watched, wide-eyed, as Carr pulled dagger after dagger out of the compartment, strapping them on. She always had the ones in her thigh sheaths, but now there were two hidden beneath her boots, two strapped to her wrists, one–Orla blinked. Where had that one gone? Or that other… 

“Why do you have so many knives?” she asked, feeling her eyes getting wider and wider with each weapon Carr withdrew. 

Orla glanced around, wondering if her brother knew about all this, but he wasn’t there. He wasn’t there he wasn’t there! Her breathing sped up, wondering if he’d been shot again, but then her eyes snagged on the opening to the front of the carriage. Had he climbed through that? It didn’t look nearly big enough…

“It’s gonna be alright,” Carr said, strapping something around Orla’s waist before taking the dagger she’d given her back.  

An ominous creak sounded as the carriage bounced extra hard–followed by a nasty-sounding crack. The carriage listed heavily to the side, and Orla bit back a scream, held by the steadiness in Carr’s eyes even though her heart pounded. Her hand felt empty, and she suddenly wished to have the dagger back, craved its security even though she had no idea how to use it. 

“It’s gonna be alright,” Carr said again, sliding the blade into the sheath at Orla’s hip. 

Orla sucked in a breath, feeling a little better with the weight at her side. She stared at Carr, repeating her words in her head, over and over. It’s gonna be alright It’s gonna be alright It’s gonna– 

The glow of Resh’s magic grew brighter, stronger, illuminating the entire cabin in lavender. Thank gods, he really was still there. It’s gonna be alright. Her brother would protect them. Whatever was happening, if the carriage crashed, his power would keep them safe. It’s gonna be alright.

Carr turned to look at him, and Orla found herself mimicking her motions, relieved to see Resh’s face peering into the cabin. It’s gonna… 

Someone screamed as an arrowhead broke through Resh’s shoulder, jutting out from under his collarbone in a flash of crimson and silver. 

No! Nononono… a high-pitched whine filled the cabin as her brother’s body sagged against the opening, blood staining his torn tunic. It was supposed to be alright! It still could be, right? Right?

But the purple light flickered, and the carriage lurched again, the motion flinging Orla back against the wall. It kept tilting until it seemed she was weightless, the world beyond the window a smear of green and brown. Carr reached for her, her body floating within the remnants of Resh’s fading magic. 

This is not alright, Orla wailed in her mind as she careened past Carr but somehow stopped short of the opposite wall. Fingers grasped Orla’s flailing hands when she flew back in the other direction–Carr, dragging her closer, her mouth moving. She was trying to speak, but Orla couldn’t hear her through the terrible noises the carriage was making. Through the terrible noises she was making. 

Carr’s arms curled around her shoulders, hugging her tight right before…

Purple light shattered. 

Wood shattered. 

Orla’s world shattered.

~~~

Carr

Carr stifled her groan as she came to, unsure of her surroundings or why her body ached so bad. 

The floor felt soft beneath her, the scent of crushed grass and moist earth filling her nostrils. 

Not the floor then. The ground. She was outside? 

Her eyes snapped open. Outside. Bandits, chasing them. She raised a hand to her head, met a sticky patch of half-dried blood above her eyebrow. Well, that explained why that part of her hurt. 

Wherever she was, it was dark. She listened, but aside from the sound of the wind rustling the leaves, everything was quiet. Unnaturally so. The bandits–ah, right. The carriage–it had crashed, flinging her and Orla around like ragdolls. 

Flashes of memory assailed her. Resh’s magic, surrounding them, cushioning them from the worst of the damage. The cabin splintering apart, Resh’s magic fracturing, Carr’s arms surrounding the small, frail form of Resh’s sister. 

Desperate to shield her when they were flung from the cabin, Carr had called earth, and it had answered. The impact had still been enough to knock her out, though. She hoped Orla had survived. 

And Resh–his face as that arrow went through his shoulder. How had he managed the strength to shield them after that? Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back. She would make no assumptions. Having been through this once already, Carr told herself she could do it again. She’d find him alive again. She would.   

Clenching her jaw, Carr dug her fingers into the ground and stared up at the weave of greenery above her that she could just make out. Vines. She’d cocooned herself in vines. 

She waited a few minutes, listening. Were the bandits still around? But she heard nothing except the sound of the wildlife slowly picking up its natural rhythm again. Good enough. The light still streaming through the forest’s canopy stabbed into her eyes as she pulled the vines back.  

Her head throbbed, but the ache wasn’t too bad. She lay still for a few moments anyway, letting her eyes adjust. The light was weak and patchy but not too much different from before, which meant she hadn’t been out for long. Hopefully. 

Okay, enough with the waiting. Carr pushed herself up to find she was laying in a small patch of undergrowth, and… oh, thank fuck. Orla was splayed out next to her; if Carr had reached out inside her cocoon, she probably could’ve touched her.

The girl looked pale, too pale. Carr held her breath, waiting… there! Her chest rose and fell ever so slightly. Thank the gods. 

“Orla?” she whispered, reaching out to touch the girl’s cheek. 

Her eyes fluttered at the contact, but she didn’t wake. Fuck. Carr supposed she could leave the girl here; she’d be safe within the vines, provided she didn’t make too much noise, but what if Orla woke and was scared? 

Carr didn’t have an answer for that, so she spent a few more minutes trying to rouse her. Just as she was about to give up, Orla whimpered. 

“Orla?” Carr said, feeling a little desperate at this point. “C’mon, kid, I need you to wake up.” 

“Lemme sleep,” Orla mumbled, swatting her away. 

“No can do. We gotta move. Can you sit up for me? Are you hurt anywhere?”

“I don’t… think so? But my brain feels scrambled,” Orla complained, finally cracking open her eyes. “What… where? Ugh, we crashed?” The girl winced as she sat up, her breath coming too fast. “Resh!” 

Carr peered at her pupils, relieved to find them an equal size. “Yeah, we crashed. Can you walk? We need to find him.” 

Now that Resh’s sister was awake, Carr burned with the need to find him, make sure he was still alive and stayed that way. Hopefully, the bandits had raided the remains of their carriage and left him lying in a ditch somewhere. Hopefully, one of the horses could be found. Hopefully, the sun wouldn’t set for a few hours yet. 

Hopefully, hopefully, hopefully. 

Orla was a little unsteady but able to walk. Thank fuck. Carr guided her, sticking to the underbrush for cover as she searched for the crash site. It didn’t take long to find; she followed a trail of splintered wood until she found the twisted, shattered mess of wood and metal at the bottom of a hill. 

She stopped, looking up at the bank, then over her shoulder where she and Orla had been thrown. Without Resh, without her using earth at the last moment, they would have died, Carr had no doubt. A sudden stab of fear pierced her chest; had Resh saved any of his magic for himself? 

“Oh gods,” Orla whispered behind her. 

Resh had shown Carr, over and over, that he didn’t give a shit about himself as long she was safe. Add his sister into the equation… 

“We need t’ find Resh. Now,” Carr said, her voice harsh.  

Orla started crying. “How could he survive that?” 

“He’s alive,” Carr said. “Has t’ be.” 

She sent Orla to search the immediate area around the carriage, then started climbing the hill, which was steep enough that she was forced to use elemental earth to aid her. Maybe he’d jumped before the carriage tumbled down. Maybe that’s why his magic had broken. He’d be up there, hurt, sure, but alive, waiting for help to come. 

She wouldn’t accept any other possibility, not until she was presented with his cold, lifeless body, and maybe not even then. 

Next

Image Description

[ID: The banner is a blue-green background, with tree branches arching over a set of blue-green eyes, forming an approximation of a face. The words Hidden Depths are written in white above the eyes. Any other images are purely decorative lines. end ID]

#hidden depths #whump #whump writing #original writing #original characters #fantasy whump #warnings above the cut #impalement tw #kind of #angst #minor whump #also kind of