frailesea

[frailesea]

[frailesea]

ALRIGHT SO I'VE DECIDED.. I'll still be removing and remaking, but i will also have a princess zelda blog 🥵😭🤡 life played me ajd i played myself

[frailesea]

alright so I'll be moving and remaking and I'm working on it soon but!! ye hi! who wants my discord?

[frailesea]

since i am most likely not going to be at work today or tomorrow, this is a starter call v_v

[frailesea]

who wants to plot 😩

[frailesea]

]:      𝚃𝙷𝙴  𝚂𝙺𝚈,  𝚃𝙷𝙴  𝚂𝚄𝙽  .          @cynicise​.

                    𝙷𝙴𝚁   𝙱𝙾𝙳𝚈   𝙸𝚂   𝙰   𝚁𝙴𝚂𝙸𝙳𝚄𝙰𝙻’𝚂   𝙲𝙻𝙰𝙸𝙼  .          &     she’s always tired,   always hungry.     a ache sticks to the insides of her ribs,   echoing from the inside of marrow behind flesh.     there is the phantom sensation of a sticking past her skin,   the prickling feeling of a godless suffering     —     &     again,   she thinks about how tired she is,   how hunger makes itself a manifestation.     it comes as rugged breath,   placing fingers at her arms that fold over her stomach,   nails that aren’t her own that make crescents in her skin.     CRESCENTING     :     SAVAGING.     there is a feral bubbling behind her surface,   an exterior that holds like steel before peeling behind heat.          &     THESE  ARE  MOMENTS  WHERE  SHE  REMEMBERS  THE  DISTANT  COOING  OF  A  FATHER  WHO  CALLS  HIMSELF  A  GOD.          all at once again,   she’s a sadness permeating through pores,   a sorrow that wails beside an ache that accompanies her exhaustion,   her hunger,   her helplessness.          [     𝚃𝙷𝙴  𝙸𝙻𝙻𝚄𝚂𝙸𝙾𝙽  𝙲𝙾𝙻𝙾𝚁𝚂  𝚁𝙾𝚂𝚈     ]          ·          [      𝚁𝙾𝚂𝚈  𝙸𝚂  𝙰  𝙵𝙰𝙻𝙻𝙴𝙽  𝚆𝙸𝚂𝙷     ]          it comes together without mercy,     &     her eyelashes flutter in the calling of sleep behind the seeing lens     ;     she’s alone in the grasping of an abyss,   her brother a snicker that becomes a sneer,   her brother a whine than becomes a scream,   but  her  eyes  open.     she is still hungry,   still tired,   still a body failing from the lacking of bitter gift.     a caged,   hopeful thing that could only flicker in faithless doubt.     the sky shatter is an obvious stutter,   but the sun comes up     —     mika finds her,     &     his hand waves in front of her face in her withering response,   a dying meadow fractures in the windows of her eyes,   but she paints a picture of lesser grief.

                    𝚂𝙷𝙴   𝙿𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙲𝙴𝚂   𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙲𝙴𝚁𝙸𝚃𝚈  .          but mika arrives early to rehearsal,     &     she’s a wilted flower dodging the concern she knows will color.          ❛     it’s so hard to keep track of time here.     it feels like everyday is one day.     ❜          this is mused without breath,     &     the curtains of her eyes fall lower     &     faster every time she cannot pay attention     —     the sun carries the sky,   just as the sky allows the sun to live surrounded,   just as yukari allows mika to give her that scolding,   scathing look of concern          (     it  burns  her,   if  only  because  she  doesn’t  want  to  deserve  that  expression.     ).          &     she pretends a wider smile,   pretends her arms weren’t folded over her stomach in pain just minutes ago,   instead trades the display of aching into blues unshadowed by earth.          ❛     i didn’t notice this immediately,   but.. you look sad,   so  stop  that.     ❜          she is the amused predator,     &     her smile is the warning before the pounce.     &     POUNCE,   SHE  DOES.     he yelps when her arms cross over his shoulders,   a tireless laughter comes from her throat,   a song that steals respiration from her lungs     ;     melodies screech in the way she,   the  sky,   surrounds he,   the  sun.     &     he could be lesser amused,   but the smile she sees drawn over the edges of his lips is enough for her to huff in the simplest satisfaction.     the  only  thing  she’s  ever  wanted  from  him  is  his  smile.

                    ❛     𝚈𝙾𝚄'𝚁𝙴  𝙶𝙾𝙸𝙽𝙶  𝚃𝙾  𝙷𝚄𝚁𝚃  𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁𝚂𝙴𝙻𝙵  𝙸𝙵  𝚈𝙾𝚄  𝙳𝙾𝙽'𝚃  𝙴𝙰𝚃  .          and  you  aren’t  sleeping  either.     ❜          he torments her by the pinch placed to her cheeks,   a harm done to her in a harmless whisper.     &     she takes this with the grain of salt the exits past her lips,   widened eyes draped over the slow blinks that disorientate an exile of consciousness     —     but she still allows this wakefulness,   still allows a foot taken past where another allows.           [     𝙷𝙴𝚁  𝙵𝙰𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁  𝙷𝙰𝙳  𝙱𝙴𝙴𝙽  𝙰  𝙶𝙾𝙳     :     𝙷𝙴𝚁  𝙼𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁  𝙷𝙰𝙳  𝚃𝙷𝙾𝚄𝙶𝙷𝚃  𝙸𝚃  𝙿𝙾𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙱𝙻𝙴  𝚃𝙾  𝚃𝙰𝙼𝙴  𝙰  𝙶𝙾𝙳     ]          isn’t this prohibited nature allowed to the child of a distant being          (     &     she knows this couldn’t be an unspoken truth,   knows that the children of gods   do  not  walk.     )  ?          she wants to protest,   but a nauseating sensation hungers after her voice,     &     she can only make that puff of air she’s taken to retort shorter.     she almost wants to question the assumption,   but it goes interrupted by certainty tracing his tongue     —     &     he’s smiling so brightly that she feels inclined to take note of just what touches the atmosphere.          ❛     your skin is basically grey.     you have those loopy eyes,   with black circles     —     y’know     ?     ❜          the revelation of his words is punctuated by the teasing     :     a lilt accompanying the tail of his sentence,   hands cupping rounded around his eyes,   each a discovery of another depth to the purse of her lips,   a purse that puckers as a childish smile.     HER  LIGHT  IS  A  REFLECTION  IN  THIS  MOMENT.

                    𝚂𝙴𝙲𝙾𝙽𝙳𝚂   𝙿𝙰𝚂𝚂   𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷   𝚃𝙷𝙴   𝚁𝙴𝙿𝙴𝙰𝚃𝙴𝙳   𝙵𝙰𝚄𝙻𝚃   𝙾𝙵   𝙷𝙴𝚁   𝙴𝚈𝙴𝚂  .          a muted sound of gravel coughs from her throat as a distraction to the swaying wind     :     SHE,   THE  SWAYING  WIND.     &     the gravel distraction is made to be another bout of laughter once the sun caresses her shoulder,   a hand where the absence of warmth had become.     the replica of stained glass,   she attempts another play at light,   attempts to discard these horribly alive feelings that carves itself into her     ;     she wants to begin as the holy ground that holds,   but she is neither the soil nor the church,   the warmth or the people     —     she  wants  to  sleep  without  the  assaults.

                    ❛     𝚈𝙾𝚄'𝚁𝙴   𝚂𝚄𝙲𝙷   𝙰   𝚆𝙾𝚁𝚁𝚈   𝚆𝙰𝚁𝚃  .          i think my mom worried less about me than you do.     ❜          &     YOU  SAY  THIS,   BUT  YOU  REGRET  IT.     the questions possibly locked under those words are loaded guns blooming bullets,   so you crease your voice into something less than compounded.          [     𝚈𝙾𝚄  𝙺𝙽𝙴𝚆  𝚃𝙷𝙴  𝚁𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙾𝙽  𝙱𝙴𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙴  𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁  𝙼𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁  𝙳𝙸𝙳     ]          :          [     𝚈𝙾𝚄  𝙺𝙽𝙴𝚆  𝙼𝙰𝙽𝚈  𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶𝚂  𝙱𝙴𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙴  𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁  𝙼𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁  𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳     ]          a mother’s concern is second - hand,     &     it is an alien expression that lingers in the joints of her fingers,   folding into each other as paper does.     the house of cards quivers,   she holds her breath almost into oblivion     ;     mika’s hands take base upon her face when she tilts off axis,   an action only supported by the lacking trace of her body.          ❛     i have been eating,     &     sleeping     !     i don’t just..   not   take care of myself…     ❜          &     though her voice fades in the retaliation of her hesitancy in response,   the firm grapple of her words take up in the deficiency     —     smiling sunshine,   golden boy,   this sky has seen night before you’ve set yourself among the stars beyond her.     but you make fireflies where she’s only seen darkness,   you make the sun where she’s seen a forever eclipsed moon.          ❛     it —     ❜          words half - drift into a dry sputter.

                    ❛      𝚈𝚄𝙺𝙰𝚁𝙸  ,     ❜          after moments,   she floats     —     she doesn’t expect him to speak.     a kiddish type of anxiety riddles holes in her skin the way her brother found his body riddled with a fragility that bound him to a forced leisure.     HE  ATTACHES  HIMSELF  TO  HER  SHOULDERS,   A  SMILE  SHE  DOESN’T  THINK  LOOKS  FORCED  MAKING  AN  ABSOLUTE   FOOL   OF  RADIANCE.          ❛     we care about you,   really     !     &     if no one else for sure,   then me for sure     !     we’ve got to get through this alive,   so you’re coming to have dinner with us tonight.     you can even have the portions i don’t eat     !     ❜          there is no strength in her to protest against something so genuine that ignites her own smile,   shaping fireflies to shape a jar     —     fooling the night,   even.

                    𝚂𝙷𝙴   𝙽𝙾𝙳𝚂  .          there’s no use,   she considers this thought in initial reach of his request,   but she also considers his smile     &     erases the fact that she will still hunger     &     tire when the food is gone,   when she staggers to her own perch.

[frailesea]

who wants to plot 😩

[frailesea]

on the new blog i make, I'm gonna have a system of muses that will not only prioritize muses, but it will keep most at low priority. focal muses(which are going to be yukari and kazuki) will be the muses the blog mainly runs off of and the muses that will take priority in verse creation, study explanations, and plot/dynamic developments. hidden muses will be muses i have, but they will not be on my blog and i will only only play them at my specific intention to. when i have starter calls, they won't be open. the rest of the muses will be "secondary" muses who are open for people to ask, and i will use them on a case to case basis. focal is also the only section of muses that won't change, because they will remain the main focus of the blog.

[frailesea]

♡♡

i love you :(((( invade my discord pls

[frailesea]

y'all...... nagi... kinda.... she kinda calm feral..

[frailesea]

not to like assault the dash unexpectedly because i was just about to hop off and try to sleep again, but yukari really does end up being the strongest reinin to like..live through her god complex. like yukari’s father is the strongest reinin while yukari isn’t necessarily aiming to receive or gain power, but when she is actively attempting this, she doesn’t only hold immense potential in the spiritual sense but also the physical sense since she is very much attached to the physical aspect of her existence since she is a reinin born from a human parent. so while she cannot avoid her eventual god complex, it doesn’t take her over if she plays her cards right, but she would still be affected by it UGH there’s so much to talk about i need to just CRY about it but i’m tired and i’m p sure i shook off the bad dream so i’m sleps <3 gnight yall

[frailesea]

kinda wanna come back to write soon but am i welcome here? :thinking_emoji: SDAJKDASD

[frailesea]

alright sooo!!!!!! i got a job and i’m p sure i’ll be working night shifts so it’ll take a bit to get used to? so everything i’ve been working on and developing has been on pause so i can get past this test i have to do in a few days for it

[frailesea]

]:      𝚃𝙷𝙴  𝚂𝙺𝚈,  𝚃𝙷𝙴  𝚂𝚄𝙽  .          @cynicise​.

                    𝙷𝙴𝚁   𝙱𝙾𝙳𝚈   𝙸𝚂   𝙰   𝚁𝙴𝚂𝙸𝙳𝚄𝙰𝙻’𝚂   𝙲𝙻𝙰𝙸𝙼  .          &     she’s always tired,   always hungry.     a ache sticks to the insides of her ribs,   echoing from the inside of marrow behind flesh.     there is the phantom sensation of a sticking past her skin,   the prickling feeling of a godless suffering     —     &     again,   she thinks about how tired she is,   how hunger makes itself a manifestation.     it comes as rugged breath,   placing fingers at her arms that fold over her stomach,   nails that aren’t her own that make crescents in her skin.     CRESCENTING     :     SAVAGING.     there is a feral bubbling behind her surface,   an exterior that holds like steel before peeling behind heat.          &     THESE  ARE  MOMENTS  WHERE  SHE  REMEMBERS  THE  DISTANT  COOING  OF  A  FATHER  WHO  CALLS  HIMSELF  A  GOD.          all at once again,   she’s a sadness permeating through pores,   a sorrow that wails beside an ache that accompanies her exhaustion,   her hunger,   her helplessness.          [     𝚃𝙷𝙴  𝙸𝙻𝙻𝚄𝚂𝙸𝙾𝙽  𝙲𝙾𝙻𝙾𝚁𝚂  𝚁𝙾𝚂𝚈     ]          ·          [      𝚁𝙾𝚂𝚈  𝙸𝚂  𝙰  𝙵𝙰𝙻𝙻𝙴𝙽  𝚆𝙸𝚂𝙷     ]          it comes together without mercy,     &     her eyelashes flutter in the calling of sleep behind the seeing lens     ;     she’s alone in the grasping of an abyss,   her brother a snicker that becomes a sneer,   her brother a whine than becomes a scream,   but  her  eyes  open.     she is still hungry,   still tired,   still a body failing from the lacking of bitter gift.     a caged,   hopeful thing that could only flicker in faithless doubt.     the sky shatter is an obvious stutter,   but the sun comes up     —     mika finds her,     &     his hand waves in front of her face in her withering response,   a dying meadow fractures in the windows of her eyes,   but she paints a picture of lesser grief.

                    𝚂𝙷𝙴   𝙿𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙲𝙴𝚂   𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙲𝙴𝚁𝙸𝚃𝚈  .          but mika arrives early to rehearsal,     &     she’s a wilted flower dodging the concern she knows will color.          ❛     it’s so hard to keep track of time here.     it feels like everyday is one day.     ❜          this is mused without breath,     &     the curtains of her eyes fall lower     &     faster every time she cannot pay attention     —     the sun carries the sky,   just as the sky allows the sun to live surrounded,   just as yukari allows mika to give her that scolding,   scathing look of concern          (     it  burns  her,   if  only  because  she  doesn’t  want  to  deserve  that  expression.     ).          &     she pretends a wider smile,   pretends her arms weren’t folded over her stomach in pain just minutes ago,   instead trades the display of aching into blues unshadowed by earth.          ❛     i didn’t notice this immediately,   but.. you look sad,   so  stop  that.     ❜          she is the amused predator,     &     her smile is the warning before the pounce.     &     POUNCE,   SHE  DOES.     he yelps when her arms cross over his shoulders,   a tireless laughter comes from her throat,   a song that steals respiration from her lungs     ;     melodies screech in the way she,   the  sky,   surrounds he,   the  sun.     &     he could be lesser amused,   but the smile she sees drawn over the edges of his lips is enough for her to huff in the simplest satisfaction.     the  only  thing  she’s  ever  wanted  from  him  is  his  smile.

                    ❛     𝚈𝙾𝚄'𝚁𝙴  𝙶𝙾𝙸𝙽𝙶  𝚃𝙾  𝙷𝚄𝚁𝚃  𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁𝚂𝙴𝙻𝙵  𝙸𝙵  𝚈𝙾𝚄  𝙳𝙾𝙽'𝚃  𝙴𝙰𝚃  .          and  you  aren’t  sleeping  either.     ❜          he torments her by the pinch placed to her cheeks,   a harm done to her in a harmless whisper.     &     she takes this with the grain of salt the exits past her lips,   widened eyes draped over the slow blinks that disorientate an exile of consciousness     —     but she still allows this wakefulness,   still allows a foot taken past where another allows.           [     𝙷𝙴𝚁  𝙵𝙰𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁  𝙷𝙰𝙳  𝙱𝙴𝙴𝙽  𝙰  𝙶𝙾𝙳     :     𝙷𝙴𝚁  𝙼𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁  𝙷𝙰𝙳  𝚃𝙷𝙾𝚄𝙶𝙷𝚃  𝙸𝚃  𝙿𝙾𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙱𝙻𝙴  𝚃𝙾  𝚃𝙰𝙼𝙴  𝙰  𝙶𝙾𝙳     ]          isn’t this prohibited nature allowed to the child of a distant being          (     &     she knows this couldn’t be an unspoken truth,   knows that the children of gods   do  not  walk.     )  ?          she wants to protest,   but a nauseating sensation hungers after her voice,     &     she can only make that puff of air she’s taken to retort shorter.     she almost wants to question the assumption,   but it goes interrupted by certainty tracing his tongue     —     &     he’s smiling so brightly that she feels inclined to take note of just what touches the atmosphere.          ❛     your skin is basically grey.     you have those loopy eyes,   with black circles     —     y’know     ?     ❜          the revelation of his words is punctuated by the teasing     :     a lilt accompanying the tail of his sentence,   hands cupping rounded around his eyes,   each a discovery of another depth to the purse of her lips,   a purse that puckers as a childish smile.     HER  LIGHT  IS  A  REFLECTION  IN  THIS  MOMENT.

                    𝚂𝙴𝙲𝙾𝙽𝙳𝚂   𝙿𝙰𝚂𝚂   𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷   𝚃𝙷𝙴   𝚁𝙴𝙿𝙴𝙰𝚃𝙴𝙳   𝙵𝙰𝚄𝙻𝚃   𝙾𝙵   𝙷𝙴𝚁   𝙴𝚈𝙴𝚂  .          a muted sound of gravel coughs from her throat as a distraction to the swaying wind     :     SHE,   THE  SWAYING  WIND.     &     the gravel distraction is made to be another bout of laughter once the sun caresses her shoulder,   a hand where the absence of warmth had become.     the replica of stained glass,   she attempts another play at light,   attempts to discard these horribly alive feelings that carves itself into her     ;     she wants to begin as the holy ground that holds,   but she is neither the soil nor the church,   the warmth or the people     —     she  wants  to  sleep  without  the  assaults.

                    ❛     𝚈𝙾𝚄'𝚁𝙴   𝚂𝚄𝙲𝙷   𝙰   𝚆𝙾𝚁𝚁𝚈   𝚆𝙰𝚁𝚃  .          i think my mom worried less about me than you do.     ❜          &     YOU  SAY  THIS,   BUT  YOU  REGRET  IT.     the questions possibly locked under those words are loaded guns blooming bullets,   so you crease your voice into something less than compounded.          [     𝚈𝙾𝚄  𝙺𝙽𝙴𝚆  𝚃𝙷𝙴  𝚁𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙾𝙽  𝙱𝙴𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙴  𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁  𝙼𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁  𝙳𝙸𝙳     ]          :          [     𝚈𝙾𝚄  𝙺𝙽𝙴𝚆  𝙼𝙰𝙽𝚈  𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶𝚂  𝙱𝙴𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙴  𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁  𝙼𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁  𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳     ]          a mother’s concern is second - hand,     &     it is an alien expression that lingers in the joints of her fingers,   folding into each other as paper does.     the house of cards quivers,   she holds her breath almost into oblivion     ;     mika’s hands take base upon her face when she tilts off axis,   an action only supported by the lacking trace of her body.          ❛     i have been eating,     &     sleeping     !     i don’t just..   not   take care of myself…     ❜          &     though her voice fades in the retaliation of her hesitancy in response,   the firm grapple of her words take up in the deficiency     —     smiling sunshine,   golden boy,   this sky has seen night before you’ve set yourself among the stars beyond her.     but you make fireflies where she’s only seen darkness,   you make the sun where she’s seen a forever eclipsed moon.          ❛     it —     ❜          words half - drift into a dry sputter.

                    ❛      𝚈𝚄𝙺𝙰𝚁𝙸  ,     ❜          after moments,   she floats     —     she doesn’t expect him to speak.     a kiddish type of anxiety riddles holes in her skin the way her brother found his body riddled with a fragility that bound him to a forced leisure.     HE  ATTACHES  HIMSELF  TO  HER  SHOULDERS,   A  SMILE  SHE  DOESN’T  THINK  LOOKS  FORCED  MAKING  AN  ABSOLUTE   FOOL   OF  RADIANCE.          ❛     we care about you,   really     !     &     if no one else for sure,   then me for sure     !     we’ve got to get through this alive,   so you’re coming to have dinner with us tonight.     you can even have the portions i don’t eat     !     ❜          there is no strength in her to protest against something so genuine that ignites her own smile,   shaping fireflies to shape a jar     —     fooling the night,   even.

                    𝚂𝙷𝙴   𝙽𝙾𝙳𝚂  .          there’s no use,   she considers this thought in initial reach of his request,   but she also considers his smile     &     erases the fact that she will still hunger     &     tire when the food is gone,   when she staggers to her own perch.

[frailesea]

i’m still SADJKADS working on stuff irl and for this blog, but i still love yukari and yoichi and they would 100% be friends and also unrelated by yukari gets a god complex later on in every route she gets stronger in food for thought

[frailesea]

i’m still SADJKADS working on stuff irl and for this blog, but i still love yukari and yoichi and they would 100% be friends and also unrelated by yukari gets a god complex later on in every route she gets stronger in food for thought

[frailesea]

]:      𝙰𝚂  𝙳𝙰𝚁𝙺  𝙰𝚂  𝙽𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃  .          devourtm  .

@frailesea    /    sc

              miasma     SCOURS    the air dusty ,      flaky irritation at the cusp of throats as ash remnants sift through the muggy streets .      his blade is dripping at his side   ,   fouled     by     misshapen     torsos     that litter    mist - dampened     streets .     he is    DIZZYINGLY   low on blood  ,      velvet sheen providing a   bloodlust   -   veneer   to the usual sharpness of enhanced vision .      horrifyingly  ,      he senses the delicious hot tempt of blood beyond the street corner  ,       iscariot’s     temptress   coming to haunt him .      the    CORDED     KEEN     OF     VOCAL FOLDS     leave nothing to the imagination ,       for it is every bit as feral as his status mentis ,     “    i beg of you,   run !   if you harbour a sense of commonality or virtue,   you would heed my warning :    leave this place    &    never return.    ”

                    𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂   𝙽𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃   𝙸𝚂   𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷𝙾𝚄𝚃   𝙰   𝙶𝙾𝙳  .          she’s known this by the way her body folds in on itself,   the way harold has left her but a blameless messenger.     she is not a bird  :     but harold is not one to take heed,     &     her throat sits behind the petals held in her mouth     ---     there is blood,   there are seeds  ;     rosy cheeks still in the coldness.     this voice is a desperate ailing,     &     she is curious,   fool-eyed  by  doe-eyed,   of the mouth that wails.          &     HER  MOTHER  IS  NOT  A  MOTHER.     HER  FATHER  IS  NOT  A  FATHER.          she exists as the placement between child     &     magic,   the hand that will sing before creation  :     she was created,   but there was no weeping hymn.          ❛     are you alright     ?     do you need help     ?     ❜          her steps are stopped,     &     she considers another step a possession,   an action taking her arms to pull.