#Where Wild Sorrows Grow

[bizarrobrain]

"Sky, Sword, and Specter" by Upon Stone - From "Where Wild Sorrows Grow" (2021)

[purplealmonds]

This is my tribute to the late Technoblade. I'm well over a week late to the anniversary of his passing, but I think it was worth the wait. I wanted to get this right.

The story I want to tell is of time's passage after his passing, and the set dressing of this space is a symbolic amalgamation of various aspects of his life depicting that concept.

I have a lot more to say about this painting - three pages just for the symbolism alone. If you're interested, please let me know and I'll share my analysis on a separate post! Edit: I caved. Aight, prepare for a massive info dump below the cut!

DISCLAIMERS:

Although I put a lot of research into this piece, my knowledge is likely flawed and incomplete. If I missed or misinterpreted a reference, it’s because I’m new to the Technoblade community. If I got a symbolism thing wrong, it’s because I relied on Google search for answers. I fact checked where I could. And with this analysis, I hope I can clear up any misinterpretations! 

—

OVERVIEW:

There’s lots of imagery to unpack so I’ll try parsing it in a structured manner. Let’s first examine it holistically. 

The story I want to tell here is of time’s passage after Technoblade’s passing. As such,the set dressing of this space is a symbolic amalgamation of that concept.

Prominently featured are the various medical equipments - a nod to the grim reality of his cancer. But let’s not linger upon that aspect of his story.

Of equal importance are the more mundane objects - his gaming setup, the couch and pillow which Floof sat upon in that one photo, the plethora of paraphernalia of branded merchandise, and references to his exploits in Minecraft. These are relics and mementos of his legacy.

All of these elements intermingle in flooded, lushly overgrown room looking out to a rose-tinted exterior. Is it dawn? Dusk? I’ll leave that interpretation up to the viewers.  

The third and final component is the plant life representing his community -us. We beautify this metaphorical space with where it was once laden with tragedy. Yet, despite these riotous blooms, we never quite encroach on the bed - the empty space left behind by him.

—

SET DRESSING:

Much care was taken in selecting the blossoms and placing them in symbolically significant locations.  And this neatly transitions us into the analysis individual details.

Foreground: 

In the foreground, ivy crawls through a lamp and white clovers thrive atop a pile of pillboxes. The lamp base, once a shining bronze-like finish, is heavily tarnished. The lampshade is overgrown with moss and ivy. Even if the greenery has yet to damage the electric wiring, the damp surely has finished the job. Even if the bulb is replaced, the body is too far gone. The light’s never coming on again. 

I was initially put out that my painstakingly 3D modeled pillboxes became entirely obscured, but I think it works in favor of the piece’s overarching theme: the beautiful wilds overtaking a space that once reeked of the desperate fight to prolong life. 

White clover blossoms meaning “thinking of you” is paired with the ivy meaning “everlasting devotion”.  It’s an apt combination. It has been over a year since his passing, and we still remember and carry on his legacy. 

Nestled amongst the foliage is Techno’s compass. It was once used to hunt him down in the Dream SMP. But now, it’s an odd comfort. Even though he’s no longer with us, he’s still somewhere far, far away– or is he? The original idea was for the needle to point heavenwards, but it is currently pointing…sideways?  I’ll get to the reasoning a bit later. 

The Flood:

Moving deeper into the space, we hit the floodwaters. These once turbulent currents are now tranquil enough to nourish this verdant place. The thriving plant life hides much of this darkness. It is beautiful, hopeful, even. But always bittersweet, because everything that grows here is laced with an old sorrow.

White lotus rise from the murky depths. That is us, overcoming our grief. Breaching the surface, we gain a new vantage point to contemplate this loss. Perhaps we can also find a more comforting perspective of it.

Submerged amongst the blossoms is a rusted oxygen machine. I wanted to decorate the machine with stickers, much like one would personalize a plaster cast for a broken limb. It is deliberate that the “Technoblade Never Dies” sticker is in shadow, while the “So Long, Nerds" is in light. 

Immediately to the right was meant to be a box of assorted Technoblade apparel.  But then I flooded the space for narrative reasons, rendering that idea unusable. I eventually converted it into a Welch’s Fruit Snacks box, because apparently Technoblade liked them? It’s one of the shallower references here but it is what it is.

And finally, there is a little cameo floating somewhere in the waters. An Easter egg, if you will. I wonder if you can find it? 

Furnishings from Home:

I found the couch and Technoblade’s gaming setup during my trawl through the Technoblade Reddit page for reference photos. Balancing this space full of impersonal medical equipment with more personalized belongings is grounding. These areas insert familiarity in this strange environment.

Gaming Setup:

The gaming setup is bare bones - just the monitor, keyboard, and mouse. There was no space to add more iconic elements like his Blue Yeti microphone or the steering wheel from that Minecraft challenge. Hanging above but heavily obscured by overgrowth are two framed pictures of Technoblade’s cabin and a potato minion. It is a blink-and-you-miss-it detail, placed in a dim space and requiring close examining to notice. Without the context of the rest of this environment, it is easily mistaken as generic set dressing. 

That’s the point, though. This was a space where he streamed and created videos much beloved by his community. This space was the means of creation, not the creations themselves. Without the creator at the helm, this setup becomes insignificant. Does one dote over the easel on which paintings were created, or the paintings themselves? So now it sits in darkness, a footnote of Technoblade’s legacy. 

Nostalgia Corner:

On the other end, we have the sold out Youtooz plushies and the Agro Pig plush from the recent merch drop sat atop the couch.  If you look closely, you’ll see a Skeppy coin leaning against one of the plushies. Behind the couch is a shelf. A generic shelf, but the important bits here are the sellout bell, Youtube plaque, and vinyl figurines. 

This corner of the room is nostalgic and soft. Everything is bathed in rosy pink light, and it is filled with things that are comfortingly familiar. All across the world, people in his community have these pieces of merch to remember him by. 

The red poppies that also grow here have multiple meanings. It represents the battle - one against sarcoma - which was fought here. It symbolizes death, but also resilience in the face of grueling conditions. It is said that they grow in former battlefields where of fallen warriors. I believe of all the flowers here, this one best represents Technoblade.

The Hanging Mobile:

Strung up above it is a rather last minute addition to the environment - a hanging mobile fabricated from totems representing each member of the Sleepy Bois Inc. friend group. First and foremost is Technoblade’s iconic MCC crown, aptly placed at the top. Although it is untouched by the greenery, the gold and jewelry are somewhat muted and tarnished by time.

This is not the case for the objects below. TommyInnit’s music disc shines iridiscent green and purple - Cat and Mellohi merged into one. To is right is a sky-blue guitar pick with the LoveJoy logo engraved onto it for Wilbur Soot. And finally, below it all is Philza’s Friendship Emerald - sparkling and refracting light - with Elytra feathers fastened at the bottom. They, suspended and isolated from everything, maintain a pristine vibrancy which strongly contrasts against everything else in this space. 

IV Stand:

Next to the computer setup is the IV stand. It sustains life which is incapable of continuing on without intervention. The butterfly milkweed growing on it, in contrast, says “let me go.” The latter, overtaking the tangle of tubes and powered off patient monitor, is victorious. The hooks stand rusted, and the IV bag empty from disuse.

Sat atop the patient monitor but almost blending into the walls is a pig figurine featured in Dream’s latest music video. It stands on a high perch, yet is unassuming as to direct focus on Technoblade, or rather, his absence. 

Hanging from the wired basket is an air freshener tag. If you look on the official website, this is one of the only products which has what I can only call interesting flavor text. Most are merely descriptions and specs of the product. To quote it verbatim:

“Yes, this is a real product. And no, this ‘air freshener’ has no discernible fragrance. ‘Why’ you ask? Because Mr. Technodad and our team agreed this was exactly the sort of air freshener Alex would have found hilarious.”

As morbid as it sounds, I feel like this air freshener tag would not have existed before Technoblade’s passing. It is so unlike any other merchandise I’ve seen in any other branded merchandise store. It’s like an inside joke, secretly shared within the descriptions for the world to eventually discover. 

Window:

Unlit candles line the window sill - the aftermath of a candlelight vigil. It is a versatile symbol. It raises awareness of a disease or illness. It pays tribute the dead. Judging from the melted wax dribbling down the candle shafts and the wall below (the opacity was reduced so it looks less like bloodstains), this has been done many times over. But there is so much more candle to burn, representing the people still continuing this ceremony, albeit in the privacy of their own homes.

Above the candles are some broken blinds. When grieving, it would have been so easy for Mr. Technodad to hide away from the world in his grief. It’s understandable, to give into that primal urge to flee from prying eyes when he’s at his most vulnerable. He had the difficult task of reading out his son’s final farewell to us. This barrier between him and us dismantled by this gesture so we can remember Technoblade together. 

Coincidentally, the window frame itself somewhat resembles the kitchen window featured in Technoblade and Technodad's cooking videos. Completely unintentional on my end, but fitting in a way since in both those videos they're pulling back the metaphorical curtains for the audience to peer into a small aspect of their private lives.

To the right of the window is a nondescript clock, forever stopped at the 6:30 as a nod to the date when the "So Long, Nerds" video was published. The minute hand is accidentally left out removed to signify that time will no longer move forward for Technoblade. In contrast, the rest of the world - represented by this space - continues to grow and change around his absence.

A wind chime hangs just outside the window. It is said that the soothing sounds produced by them is a healing balm during tumultuous times. Where there is wind there is stirred up emotions, but it is motionless on this calm, breezeless day. A rare respite, where remembrance overrides grief. 

On a more amusing note, there is an interesting looking moth perched on the window glass. Upon closer inspection, the wing pattern may look somewhat familiar. In Chinese culture, when a huge moth visiting your home is the embodiment of your recently deceased loved one checking on you. Remember the compass in the foreground? Well, here’s why it is pointed sideways instead of upwards. This idea came up rather organically during a VC session in the R/Technoblade Discord server. My handful of viewers and myself affectionately dubbed this doofy looking moth TechnoMoff!

Venturing further beyond the windows, ferns grow with wild abandon. They represent eternal youth, and from a certain point of view, he will remain youthful forever at the age of 23. He lives on through us carrying on his legacy and spreading his story. 

Everything outside is tinged with pink. After someone dies, we start seeing them less as a person and more as a legacy. It is the natural course of things to start seeing the deceased through rose-tinted lenses - hence the artificially pink hue of the outside contrasting with the more grounded color palette of the inside. 

Bed:

And now we circle back to the centerpiece of this entire composition: the bed and the things that surround it. 

In front of the bed is an over-bed table with a single object: an incense bowl filled to the brim with burnt sticks of incense. A simple shrine for Technoblade. In Chinese culture, we light incense at the altar to honor our loved ones. We may live separate lives and not cross paths often, but we all come together to leave our marks through this ritual. It is proof that he is still very much loved and missed by us all.

The bariatric bed frame is typically seen in hospitals. It allows the patient to comfortably sit up or recline without expending valuable energy. Encased in this frame is something more personal - the mattress and cushions which Technoblade laid upon in his photo with the Youtube plaque. Their unique patterning is a foil for the impersonal receptacle it is caged in. It is spotlit by the window light, emphasizing its emptiness. Not a single blossom dares to encroach upon this space, because to do so would be to erase the space where Technoblade last resided. Like I mentioned before, this is story is about the space around him as much as it is about him. 

Cradling this bed frame are several flowers. Rosemary and forget-me-not’s for remembrance. Appropriate, given its proximity to the bed. Morning glories, for resilience. That’s us, again. For a while, we meander and spread in the upper walls of this space, avoiding the floodwaters which symbolize grief. But eventually, we gather the strength to meander down to the bed, where grief was the strongest.

—

CONCLUSION:

There is that cheesy quote from that one Marvel TV show – “What is grief, but love persevering?” While this reframes our perception of dealing with loss, grief is not some thing that should linger. The absence of grief does not equate to the lack of love. Instead, I would like you to consider this: remembrance is love persevering. And with our combined perseverance, Technoblade will never truly die. 

[april]

TVs and monitors are separate species with common features, but which features these are have drastically changed over time. the two used to be similar sizes with very similar behaviour, and were differentiated primarily by which connection ports they had.

over time, their courses of evolution brought them closer together in that regard, with both species' survival becoming contingent on how well they could digest HDMI. as their analogue prey, such as VGA and Component, died out, the two display species were faced with the same choice: adapt, or die.

despite this newfound similarity, though, the two species still fill different ecological niches, and the way they adapted to these new environmental situations resulted in further physical distinction in other areas. for example, it is now almost impossible to find a modern TV that is a comparable size to a monitor; while the modern monitor is still limited in dimensions by the desktops where it prefers to nest, the modern TV has an almost unbounded adult size.

another strange new differentiation is that the TV seems to have developed a dependence on internet connectivity and software updates. while this benefits them in the short term, having more selling points than a monitor at first glance, it is working against them in the long-term, with each one's effective lifespan being cut dramatically.

the "dumb TV" that, quite intelligently, does not have any big software features, is nearing extinction, with very few members still producing offspring. and while we may feel sorrow for these displays, it is only natural that they are dying off - they are simply being outcompeted by the once-humble monitor. at the same size, and without the advantage of a wider variety of ports, the dumb TV cannot keep up with the monitor's much more refined adaptations for the same niche.

however, one mystery remains: why did the dumb TV never grow to the same impressive dimensions as its smart siblings? some observations suggests that the larger smart TVs have become overly territorial as a result of their decreased longevity, to the point that they will kill an infant dumb TV if they feel that it could grow to compete with them. it seems cruel to us, but in the wild, it's all a matter of survival. if you win the evolutionary race - you fight to keep first place.

[nellasbookplanet]

Book recs: Queer science fiction, part 1

There is a lot of queer sf out there, and I read a lot of sf. When I started working on this list, I quickly realized it was impossible to include all that I've read and enjoyed in one single rec post. Thus, this is the first of so far three queer sci-fi book rec posts.

A note: queer here does not necessarily mean "guarantee of an f/f or m/m ship with a happy ending", but rather simply a significant presence of queerness. Some of the books feature no romance but has a same gender attracted/trans/a-spectrum lead, or features an m/f relationship with bisexual, trans or aro/ace characters, or simply features a world-building which is heavily queer inclusive in ways that don't always compare to our own ideas of sexuality and gender. I have however disqualified works where the only queer presence is along the lines of "gay best friend" or a blink and you'll miss it confirmation that never comes up again.

Previous book rec posts:

Really cool fantasy worldbuilding, really cool sci-fi worldbuilding, dark sapphic romances, mermaid books, vampire books, many worlds: portal fantasies, many worlds: alternate timelines, robots and artificial intelligences, post- and transhumanism, alien intelligences

For more details on the books, continue under the readmore. Titles marked with * are my personal favorites. And as always, feel free to share your own recs in the notes!

The Light Brigade by Kameron Hurley*

Dietz is a soldier in the war between Earth and Mars - to travel to the battle front, she and her fellow soldiers are broken down into light to be able to quickly travel across space. But something keeps going wrong with Dietz's travels; her memories don't match up with the mission briefs, as she experiences time itself turning in on itself. Is she going mad? Or are the things she's learning skipping through time the truth - and the war that's stealing her life the lie? A mindfuck of a book that's scathing in its critique of fascism and war. Features a sapphic lead but no romance.

A Psalm for the Wild-Built (Monk and Robot duology) by Becky Chambers

Novella. Long ago, robots, upon gaining sentience, simply laid down their work and walked into the wilderness. Long after, a tea monk looking for purpose follows after them into the wilds, where they come across one of the robots seeking its own sort of answers. While not plotless, this story focuses more on character and vibes over plot. Also has a nonbinary main character and features conversations on gender between human and robot.

Meet Me In Another Life by Catriona Silvey*

Thora and Santi are strangers, brought together by a coincidence and torn apart just as abruptly when tragedy strikes. But this is neither the first nor the last time they meet - again and again they encounter each other, as friends, lovers, enemies, family, every time recognizing in each other a familiarity no one else carries. But with every new life, a mysterious danger grows ever closer, forcing them to find out the truth of their connection. This is a puzzle-box of a story that goes some entirely unexpected places in a very wild ride, featuring a bisexual co-lead.

The Archive Undying (The Downworld Sequence) by Emma Mieko Candon

In a world where AI gods sometimes lose their minds and take entire populations down with them, Sunai was the only survivor when his god went down. In the 17 years since, he has wandered on his own, unable to either die or age, drowning his sorrows in drink and men. But his attempts to flee his past comes to a stop as he is forced back into the struggle between man and machine. Featuring some pretty wild world building and narrative techniques, this book will definitely confuse you, but it is worth the experience.

The Paradox Hotel by Rob Hart

January Cole works security at the Paradox Hotel, last stop for tourists heading for the timeport, which allows them to travel to and witness any moment in time. But years of proximity to the timeport has left its damage on January, making her unstuck in time, letting her relive memories of her dead lover even as her sanity slips away bit by bit. As she starts witnessing proof of a horrible crime in the hotel that no one else can see, January must race against her own mind, a killer, and time itself to solve it before it's too late.

A Fractured Infinity by Nathan Tavares

Hayes Figueiredo is a struggling film-maker who wants to finish his documentary, whose life gets turned upside down when handsome physicist Yusuf Hassan enters his life, claiming an alternate version of him is a great inventor who’s sent a mysterious device to their universe. As Hayes gets drawn deeper into the conspiracy - and his feelings for Yusuf intensify - he has to decide just how far he’s prepared to go to win the life and the love he wants. Featuring a very gay and very morally dubious lead, this is a creative and strange read.

Bridge by Lauren Beukes

When she was little, Bridge and her mother Jo used to play a game - one where they traveled to other worlds, inhabiting the bodies of their other selves. Now Jo is dead, and as Bridge is cleaning out her apartment she finds a strange device: a dreamworm, the very thing that supposedly makes inter-dimensional travel possible. Suddenly faced with the possibility that multiverse travel is real, Bridge is struck by a different question: could her mother still be alive? Scifi spiced with a healthy dose of body horror and some absolutely wild twists, Bridge also features a bisexual lead (however this is a blink and you’ll miss it moment) and a nonbinary co-narrator.

The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet (Wayfarers series) by Becky Chambers

Rosemary Harper just got a job on the motley crew of the Wayfarer, a spaceship that works with tunneling new wormholes through space. With a past she wants to leave behind, Rosemary is happy to travel the far reaches of the universe with the chaotic crew, but when they land the job of a life time, things suddenly get a lot more dangerous. A bit of a tumblr classic in its day, this is a cozy space opera with an episodic feel and vividly realized characters and cultures. While pretty light on romance and focusing found family, there is a main f/f relationship.

An Unkindness of Ghosts by Rivers Solomon

Life on the lower decks of the generation ship HSS Matilda is hard for Aster, an outcast even among outcasts, trying to survive in a system not dissimilar to the old antebellum South. The ship's leaders have imposed harsh restrictions on their darker skinned people, using them as an oppressed work force as they travel toward their supposed Promised Land. But as Aster finds a link between the death of the ship's sovereign and the suicide of her own mother, she realizes there may be a way off the ship.

Ninefox Gambit (The Machineries of Empire trilogy) by Yoon Ha Lee*

Military space opera where belief and culture shape the laws of reality, causing all kinds of atrocities as empires do everything in their power to force as many people as possible to conform to their way of life to strengthen their technology and weapons. It’s also very queer, with gay, lesbian and trans major characters, albeit little to no romance.

The Left Hand of Darkness (Hainish Cycle) by Ursula K. Le Guin

1969 classic. Genly Ai is an emissary sent to the planet of Winter, meant to help facilitate Winter's inclusion in a growing intergalactic civilization. But he's unprepared for Winter's citizens, who spend much of their time genderless or switching between genders, making for a culture wildly different from that Genly is used to.

Too Like the Lightning (Terra Ignota series) by Ada Palmer*

Centuries in the future, humanity has deliberatly engineered society to be as utopian as possible, politically, socially, sexually, religiously. Written in an enlightenment style and featuring questions of human nature and whether it’s possible to change it, and what price we’re prepared to pay for peace, this book is simultaneously very heavy and very funny, and written in a very unique style. While still human, the society presented often feels starkly alien.

The Stars Are Legion by Kameron Hurley

This book fucked me up when I read it. It’s weird, it’s gross, there’s So Much Viscera, there are literally no men, it has living spaceships and biotech but in the most horrific way imaginable. Had I to categorize it I would call it grimdark military sf. It’s an experience but not necessarily a pleasant one.

The Luminous Dead by Caitlin Starling*

Possibly one of the most unsettling books I’ve ever read, and definitely the most claustrophobic. Gyre, a caver on an alien planet, ventures into the dark and dangerous underground, guided only by a woman who has no compunctions on using and manipulating Gyre as she sees fit to obtain her secretive goals down in the caves.

Escaping Exodus (Escaping Exodus series) by Nicky Drayden

While my feelings on Escaping Exodus were mixed, it cannot be denied that the dynamic between the two leads and the way they go from childhood best friends to enemies on different sides of a class and power struggle is very delicious. It also features some really cool worldbuilding of living, alien generation spaceships and the human culture that has developed inside them.

The Doors of Eden by Adrian Tchaikovsky*

The Doors of Eden is something of an experiment in speculative biology, featuring versions of Earth in which various different species were the one to rise to sentience, from dinosaurs to neanderthals. Now, something is threatening the existence of all timelines, dragging multiple different people and species into the struggle, among those a pair of cryptid hunting girlfriends and a transgender scientist.

Ascension by Jacqueline Koyanagi

Ascension follows Alana Quick, an expert Sky Surgeon who stows away on a spaceship in hopes of landing herself a job. But the ship and its crew are in deeper waters than she expected, facing threats emerging from a whole other universe, all of them searching for the same person: Alana’s spiritually enlightened sister. Undeniably a bit of an odd read, Ascension is also very creative and features polyamorous lesbian relationship.

Contagion (Contagion duology) by Erin Bowman*

Young adult. After receiving an SOS, a small crew is sent on a standard search-and-rescue mission. But what they find are not survivors awaiting help, but an abandoned site, full of dead bodies and crawling with something... monstrous. No romance, but features one sapphic co-lead and one who can easily be read as demisexual (however this doesn't show up until book two, which has more romance).

A Memory Called Empire (Texicalaan duology) by Arkady Martine

Mahit Dzmare is an ambassador sent to the center of the multi-system Teixcalaanli Empire, where she discovers that her predecessor has died. Trying to protect her home, an independent mining station, from being taken over by the empire, Mahit struggles to find out the truth of her predecessor's death while carrying the voice of his ghost in her head, guiding her as best he can. Light on the romance but does feature a sapphic relationship.

The Outside (The Outside trilogy) by Ada Hoffman*

AKA the book the put me in an existenial crisis. Souls are real, and they are used to feed AI gods in this lovecraftian inspired scifi where reality is warped and artifical gods stand against real, unfathomable ones. Autistic scientist Yasira is accused of heresy and, to save her eternal soul, is recruited by post-human cybernetic ‘angels’ to help hunt down her own former mentor, who is threatening to tear reality itself apart. Sapphic main character.

Dawn (Xenogenesis trilogy) by Octavia E. Butler*

After a devestating war leaves humanity on the brink of extinction, survivor Lilith finds herself waking up naked and alone in a strange room. She’s been rescued by the Oankali, who have arrived just in time to save the human race. But there’s a price to survival, and it might be humanity itself. Absolutely fucked up I love it I once had to drop the book mid read to stare at the ceiling and exclaim in horror at what was going on. Queer in the sense that the Oankali doesn't follow human ideas of gender and relationships, which is mirrored in their romantic relationships with humans. It is, however, pretty dark, with examinations of agency and consent, so enter with caution.

Remnant by Kate Genet

One day, Cass wakes up and finds everyone else is gone. Not dead, just gone, leaving her in a world which nature starts taking back with a dangerous, unnatural speed. But as she tries to survive this new normal, Cass realizes she may not be alone after all - but who else is out there, and are they a threat?

The Scorpion Rules (Prisoners of Peace duology) by Erin Bow*

Young Adult. Featuring a dystopian future in which an AI forcibly keeps world peace by holding the children of world leaders hostage. If anyone attempts to start a war, their child will be executed. Greta is one of these children, kept in a school with others like her. But things start to change one day when a new, less obedient hostage arrives. A unique, slowburn take on the YA dystopian craze, also featuring a bisexual love triangle.

Iron Widow (Iron Widow series) by Xiran Jay Zhao

Young adult. Zetian is a citizen of Huaxia, where mecha aliens are constantly trying to breach the Great Wall. To keep them at bay, couples of men and women pilot so called Chrysalises, giant transforming robots. But the pilots are not equal - the women almost always die, sucked dry by their co-pilots. When Zetian sets herself up to become a concubine-pilot, she does so with the plan to assassinate the male pilot who caused her sister's death. Features a polyamorous main relationship.

Bonus AKA I haven't read these yet but they seem really cool:

Survival Instincts by May Dawney

Lynn Tanner has been surviving the post-apocalypse alone with only her dog for a long time, trusting no one. But when she's forced to travel the dangerous remains of New York City alongside another woman, her priorities are challenged. Is staying alone really the best way to stay alive?

These Burning Stars by Bethany Jacobs

When con-artist Jun Ironway gets her hands on possible proof of the powerful Nightfoot family, controllers of interplanetary travel, committing genocide, she has in her hands a chance of taking them and their monopoly down. But the family and their allies won't go down easily, and sends two brutal clerics to stop her.

Everfair by Nisi Shawl

A neo-victorian alternate history, in which a part of Congo was kept safe from colonisation, becoming Everfair, a safe haven for both the people of Congo and former slaves returning from America. Here they must struggle to keep this home safe for them all.

[tteodoroki]

the dragon’s devotion [zhongli x creator!reader]

cw: obsessive themes, cult themes, religious themes, slight yandere themes I guess, not beta read we die like Makoto

notes: I just love the concept of Zhongli being the Creator’s most devoted follower. Idk why but it gives Gomez Addams in an unhealthy way tbh.

There is an old tale in Liyue, one that parents pass down to their children. It’s a story of love, of a being that tamed a wild beast. One where a proud dragon kneeled before his own God and in return, found love.

The Dragon’s Devotion.

That’s what the Liyue citizens called it, and it’s the name of the play that is put on every year during the Lantern Rite festival. Songs can be heard of this tale from Mt. Aozang all the way to Liyue Harbor, a true testament of the adoration and reverence that blossomed between two ancient beings. It started years before the Archon War, before the seven nations were even created. Morax, the God of Geo, and the [Y/N], the Divine Creator. In his youth, he was arrogant and insatiable, hungry for war and bloodshed. Until you descended Teyvat one day, where the Lord of Geo found you in what is now known as Luhua Pool, bathing in the crystal clear waters. It is said that your beauty and divinity brought him to his knees, where the proud God worshipped you and begged for your forgiveness for his arrogance and brash ways. Being the Divine Creator, you simply smiled and told him that you cherished and loved him. A bond was formed that day, one that soothed the beast inside the young God.

That’s the story that the public knows, anyway. You, however, are familiar with a much different, a more twisted story.

The basis of the story that today’s Liyue citizens are most familiar with is true to some extent. You did meet Morax in Luhua Pool, and he did beg for forgiveness. But you didn’t fall in love with him, at least not in the way everyone believes. That’s the version that the mortals of Teyvat like to believe in. Morax, one of the eldest and strongest Archons to exist. A proud man with an unshakeable faith, has been your most devoted follower ever since he took his first breath in Teyvat. He held you close to his heart. Everything he did, was to honor you. Even the actions he took during the Archon War, in his mind it was all done in your name. Every life taken and drop of blood spilled was for you, his beloved. His Creator.

“My Morax,” You whisper softly, your hand reaching forward to gently caress the Archon’s face. Morax knelt before you, his polearm laying at your feet. It reeked of death, the gold blade stained with the blood of your people. Your heart ached, mourning the countless lives that were lost. “What have you done?” Your voice trembles, eyes full of sorrow. Morax brings his gaze to look at you, his heart shattering at the look in your eyes. Was this not what you wanted? To be worshipped as you rightfully deserved? To be honored?

“This was all for you, my love.” He said, his golden eyes looking up at you with complete adoration. But you can see past that. In his eyes, you can see his true feelings. It’s not reverence or adoration or even love; it’s an obsession. In your naivety, you failed to see the truth in the beginning of your relationship, his growing obsession. The spark in his eyes was no longer there, in its place was a roaring fire that could not be quelled.

“Your obsession is clouding your judgement.” You say, moving your hand from his face. Morax watches your every movement with bated breath. Would you punish him for his transgressions? He will gladly take whatever you decided to do to him. In his mind, he deserved it for upsetting you. You pick up the polearm from the ground, the weight heavy and unfamiliar in your hands. You made this for him, your beloved Morax. It was supposed to protect the mortals of Teyvat, not destroy them. What was supposed to be a symbol of strength was soaked in the blood of your people.

“Punish me however you see fit, my love.” Morax says, golden hues watching you carefully as you look over the weapon you so carefully crafted him. Would you impale him with his own weapon? A fitting punishment, truly.

“No matter what you do, I could never harm you, my dear Morax.” You smile sadly, dropping the polearm to the ground. There was an ache in your chest, something akin to loss and grief. But at the root of it was anger. Not at Morax or any of the other Gods, but at yourself. This could have all been avoided if you didn’t descend to Teyvat. You would never have awoken this darkness inside of your beloved Morax if you stayed out of the mortal world.

“I fear that I have spent too much time here, in Teyvat.” You say, turning your back to the God of Geo in favor of gazing at the scenery below you. Beautiful glazed lilies bloomed around your feet, and you could faintly hear the rush of a nearby stream. You would miss this, you would miss your creations.

“What are you saying, my love?” There was an edge to Morax’s voice, and if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he sounded almost broken. The irony, really. The great Morax, the God of War, crumbling before you at the mere thought of you no longer gracing him with your presence.

“My time on Teyvat has come to an end. I have spent too much time in the mortal world.” You say, your voice as soft as the petals of the glazed lilies in front of you. You would miss the pleasures of gathering silk flowers and violet grass. Maybe in a few millennia you would visit again, and hopefully all of this could be forgotten.

“My love, please, don’t.” Morax pleads. He’s now standing at his full height, but compared to you he feels minuscule and insignificant. He tenderly grasps your hand with his, moving so he’s standing directly in front of you. His golden eyes, the ones that shine like the brightest cor lapis, stare at you in desperation. It’s a silent plea, begging you to stay in Teyvat, to stay with him.

You look at Morax, giving him a soft yet sad smile. The last thing you wanted to do was hurt him, but you knew if you stayed with him, his obsession, his darkness would only consume him even more. If you stayed, you would be the cause of his destruction, and you couldn’t bear to watch your dear Morax destroy himself.

“Whatever it is you wish for, I swear to Celestia I will make it happen. I swear I will see it done, just please, stay with me.” There’s a desperation in his voice, panic, almost. Despite the urge that you have to wrap your arms around your beloved Morax, you hold strong. You have made up your mind, and you will leave the mortal world once more.

“My dear Morax, this is the one thing that you cannot give me.” You say, your fingers reaching out to cup his face one last time. He leans into your touch, golden eyes full of sadness.

“I will descend to Teyvat in the future if Celestia allows it. But for now, I just have but one request.”

“Anything.”

“Use your power to guide the mortals. No more bloodshed, I do not think my heart can take anymore.” You sigh, brushing your thumb over his cheek.

“As you wish.” He nods. You give Morax a soft smile before leaning forward and kissing your beloved Morax once more. As painful as it was to leave, you knew you had to. You weren’t all knowing, and you didn’t have the gift of foresight, but you could sense that if you stayed, something sinister would consume your beloved Morax. In the end, this was for his safety and well-being just as it was for the rest of the people of Teyvat.

But little did you forget the main characteristic of a dragon; they never let go of what’s theirs.

[moonom0o]

LIZZIEEE!!!

Random lore below the cut?

So, I actually took a lot of inspiration from Catholic imagery for this piece (which is wild bc I am not religious at all so I was like pretty unfamiliar with it before researching) BUT basically I was looking at Our Lady of Sorrows where Mary is depicted with the sword at her chest. Obviously, Lizzie isn’t associated with saintly imagery or anything, but I used it as a vehicle to explore her relationship to the crown and becoming queen. Lizzie’s a royal and she definitely wants to become queen, but I think through her time at Ever After High she starts to explore other elements of herself and learns to become not just like, a copy-pasted version of her mother. That’s why I have her looking away and not really caring about the crown or her knife which are representative of her duty because she’s starting to find herself in other places as well. But, at the same time becoming Queen of Hearts is still very important to her!! Also, Mary is usually depicted like really sad and in pain, but that’s just not Lizzie, Lizzie is the type to keep her feelings hidden behind her fierce expression! I felt like this piece is sort of meant to represent her growing into becoming the queen, but in a way that’s so different from her mother. It’s sort of encapsulating the energy of the royals who want to be like their parents but are also starting to question the system and starting to develop their own wants. Basically, it’s that big question of duty vs desire?

[wanderersbell]

first kiss

wanderer x gn!reader

genre: angst, fluff

warnings: scara's sad inner thoughts :(

word count: 2403

a/n: minecraft c418 music made me do it. i love writing from his pov so much he's so dfhfjsfj ⁩૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ enjoy!

the sins that weigh heavy upon his soul grow infinitesimally smaller in your presence, gently laid to rest under the shade of the tree where you sit side by side in comfortable silence. the pain, the uncertainty, the remorse that lingers still is carried away with the breeze that tousles your hair and sways the leaves above in a whispering dance. 

no amount of torment could ever hope to rid him of the unwavering sense of belonging that knowing you has granted him. the feeling of being seen, of being wanted, that shakes him to his very core every day over again when you greet him with that blinding smile of yours that seems to never dull. every lie he’s been fed, every decade of brutal torture he endured fades away amidst the soft laughs that you try to stifle whenever he has something bad to say about someone.

every minute spent watching you clean up his wounds with worry etched onto your face, every hour spent teaching you how to fight and hunt and start a fire the right way, has slowly chipped away at the carefully constructed mask he always wore until there was nothing left to shield him from the all-consuming weight of your undivided attention. 

“why do you always have to repay favors?” you ask from your spot next to him, gaze fixed on the pair of dusk birds comfortably perched on a tree stump adjacent to you. 

having gotten used to your sudden and straightforward questions to him long ago, the wanderer responds without missing a beat. he doesn’t have to hesitate or think about his answers, not with you. the words flow out of him freely, like his voice was always made to reach your ears alone. 

“because borrowing and returning are the foundations of all human relationships, and,” he pauses, fingers absentmindedly picking at the slightly frayed seams of his shorts. “i do not wish to owe anything to anyone.”

the wind seems to slow down to a stop in response to this, as if his answer, that held within it a lifetime of grief and sorrow, was heavy enough to will the atmosphere around him into stillness. almost half a millennium of knowing his worth based only on his utility and his usefulness to others remains deeply rooted in his soul, even after all this time. 

when he glances at you out of the corner of his eye, you’re still watching the birds, and they way your face is slightly scrunched up in thought sends a warmth racing up his fingertips all the way to his elbows. he can practically see the gears turning in your head as you mull over his words, knows you’re undoubtedly picking apart each one carefully and trying to make sense of it. he would just tell you if you asked, but you‘re always so insistent about trying to figure it out on your own. 

you’ve always been so stubborn like that. overflowing with an insatiable curiosity and a wild determination to see things from every perspective, like it’s your very purpose to understand everything you’re faced with no matter the complexity. it’s one of the many things he admires about you, he supposes. 

“but, you never let me repay the favors you do for me.” you point out after a few moments of silence. when your head turns and your eyes finally fall on him, he feels like he’s burning up under the steadfast honesty in your gaze. 

no mortal should be able to harbor so much conviction and wisdom, or reach such a level of self awareness that it could challenge even that of an ancient god; and yet, when he looks into your eyes, he swears he can see every planet, every galaxy, everything that once was and that will be swimming around in your clear e/c irises. the same ones that see all of him for everything he is and still regard him with such patience and kindness, that see right through the deception that has clouded his conscious for as long as he can remember without a hint of judgement. 

“so what? i don’t need you to.” 

though his answer is blunt and short, the meaning behind his words find their way to you like a hushed confession in the depths of your mind.

 as long as i continue to owe you, i have a reason to stick around.

there is no timeline nor alternate reality where you would ever demand he have a reason to remain by your side, and he has never doubted this on your behalf. this answer resonates from deep within his own broken and worn down spirit, where it was shattered into a million pieces long before you ever found him. although partially mended, it bears some fractures so deep that even all the time he has left may never be able to fully heal them. 

still, this doesn’t deter you. it never has. 

“in that case, i don’t need you to either. stop repaying my favors.” you say firmly, crossing your arms over your chest in a show of seriousness that does nothing to affect him. 

“not a chance.” he replies with finality laced into his tone, facing away from your piercing gaze to watch the way the leaves of the adhigama tree that tower above pull and tug with the return of the wind. like the tides of the unforgiving ocean, the branches part occasionally to let warm shafts of sunlight filter through just to sweep them away into the shade again. 

“why not?” you press on anyways. “you know, when i do things for you, it’s because i want to.”

this, too, is a truth he cannot deny. for some reason, despite the fact that he can never offer himself up or give anything of worth in return, you jump at any opportunity to show him an unwavering kindness that nobody has ever bothered to grace him with. having hot tea ready for him when he returns to you every night, making an extra portion of food even though he insists he doesn’t need to eat, combing the tangles out of his silky hair when he drifts off and can’t stop you from doting on him. everything you do for him, you do without a second thought, without an ultimatum. 

though he is cruel, his hands stained with blood, his emotions locked tightly away so that nobody can ever hurt him again, not a day goes by that you spend treating him as anything less than equal. 

“okay, and? your point?” he knows this isn’t the answer your looking for, and even though he can’t see you, he can perfectly imagine the way your eyes lightheartedly roll into the back of your head. it’s one of his favorite expressions of yours, he takes immense satisfaction in being able to fish it out of you, because the smile you give him afterwards always leaves him with a feeling of fulfillment. 

“my point is that when you care about someone, you want to do things for them without asking for anything in return.”

the wanderer bites down on the inside of his cheek at the prospect of you caring about someone like him, knowing he’s done so little to deserve it. he wants to argue and try to convince you that you shouldn’t, but more than that, he wants to be able to accept it from you and demand for more. 

but what then? the voice that lives inside of his hollow, aching chest wonders helplessly. when the day comes that you have nothing left to give, won’t you just leave?

surely you wouldn’t, right? 

humans aren’t as bad as he always believed them to be. what he always saw as an incessant swarm of buzzing insects turned out to be nothing but a harmless colony of ants, following each other through their meaningless lives in a line that will eventually lead into the inevitable embrace of death that awaits them at the end. so why, then, waste your time on him when it was only a handful of years ago that he wouldn’t have hesitated to hurdle you into the hands of death had you gotten in his way?

the thought has him clenching his teeth together in annoyance until they ache. not because of you, but because of how impossible it is for him to accept something as simple and as human as being cared for. is he not worthy of having it? were the final words of someone long gone to time not affirmation that he was as human as the people closest to him perceived him to be?

“i really don’t see where you’re going with th-“ he starts to say, but you quickly cut him off with your teasing tone. 

“soooo, does that not imply that you do it because you care about me?” 

he whips his head around with an attempt of a frown that does little to nothing to mask the surprise on his face, and the smug yet slightly nervous look on yours has his previous thoughts coming to a crashing halt. 

“i- you-“ he begins, frantically trying to get his brain back on track after being so suddenly derailed. it’s typically not easy for him to be this caught off guard, but the way you said it told him something he’s appalled to realize he never considered. 

sure, you’re just poking fun, but he can tell right away that your question is genuine and it feels like a pit is sinking slowly into his stomach at the idea that he might have failed so badly at showing any kind of gratitude after all this time, that you had to indirectly ask if he cared.

“of course i care about you, idiot.” he says in a voice much softer than he intended. it’s almost terrifying to hear such words come out of his mouth for the first time since his creation, but the way you’re suddenly trying not to break out in a huge smile chases it away in an instant, the hardness of his eyes softening into liquid hues of blue and purple. 

“could’ve fooled me.” you laugh quietly, but even though your expression is undeniably happy, the slight wobble of your voice betrays how relieved you are to hear these words from him.

you really didn’t know. 

it finally hits him then, how foolish he is to have had such a selfless and irreplaceable person in his life and to never clearly express his gratitude. he may not understand it, he may not be convinced he deserves it, he may never be able to fully reciprocate it, but at the very least, he can put the small amount of effort into making sure you know that it’s meaningful to him all the same. 

once upon a time, he fought tooth and nail to remove himself as far as possible from his humanity. he swore upon everything he had that he would never harbor affection for another living creature, or feel another worthless emotion ever again. but now, with this new life and new will, the wanderer knows you were always meant to be a part of his story. 

in this moment, under the protective canopy of leaves that project flickers of warm light onto your skin like a kaleidoscope of gold, an intense wave of self assuredness rushes through his veins like blood. 

“let me make it clearer then.”

he truly never will know what possessed him to do so, but the next second he surges forward and the featherlight press of his lips against yours that follows makes him realize that every hardship he faced in his lifetime was leading up to this very moment here with you. 

he can feel the way you inhale sharply through your nose in shock, but you’re just as quick to sigh out a shuddering breath and melt into the kiss, hands reaching up to tenderly cup his face. his own hands find their place on your elbows, as if he’s afraid you’ll let go, and his lips tremble slightly against yours with inexperience.

when you pull away just enough to look at him he swears the whole word falls silent, and for a moment the fluttering in his chest feels like a real beating heart, born from the soft press of your lips. your eyes are brimming with adoration for him and your hands so warm and gentle where they rest on his cheeks that they leave tingles in their wake. the overwhelming feeling of being held so lovingly has his grip on your arms tightening and his eyes welling up with tears, having never thought anyone would ever see him as anything but the monster he always knew himself to be. 

when you lean in for one more kiss, then another, and another, the tears fall from his eyes in a steady stream and wet your fingertips where they meet his skin. your thumbs wipe them away as they come, your forehead coming to rest against his lightly while a breathtaking grin has your eyes crinkling into crescents. he’s so close to you that he can see every fleck of color in your irises, every eyelash and every freckle on your skin, and he feels as though he’s drowning in the blinding light of all that is you. 

distantly he realizes he might be smiling too, but he’s not sure because all he can focus on in the moment is the feeling of unbreakable companionship that he hasn’t felt since his early days as a wandering puppet, in a history long lost to this world. this particular feeling runs even deeper than he remembers, it fills his entire being with wonder and contentment and desire. he knows not what this feeling is, but knows it must be the same one he sees reflected in your eyes as you gaze at him like he’s the only thing that matters right now, and knows he’s in no rush to identify it as long as he continues to experience it with you. 

after centuries of being alone, being lost, being unwanted, he never expected to find what he was looking for under this tree here with you. under the watchful sun and and familiar sky, he nears the end of a journey. enveloped in your loving gaze, he finally finds his purpose.

[eggtartz]

Hello Alin! I hope you're fine! Can I request TR boys (Mikey, Draken, Izana, Haitani brothers and Shuji) as s/o ends up hurt and pass out and boys think s/o's dead and go into despair and s/o only wake up in the hospital but the boys are not there because they are taking their anger/sadness out on something (or someone pfff) and they left someone with s/o to call them if something happened and... Happened? Angst to fluff pls

a/n : okay let's *cracks fingers* do this

masterlist

izana kukorawa

he couldn't blame you couldn't he? as he held your hand in the ambulance, he thought could've he avoided this? as you were admitted into the emergency unit, he stood there alone with his thoughts again and he grew frustrated. he also needed medical help as he fought with mikey prior the accident but he was a fool for not noticing kisaki's plans. the bullet was meant for him, not you and now you were the one paying the price. izana couldn't be more sorrow. he left the hospital to calm down his emotions that were growing. plus he doesn't want to face anyone when they're gonna announce you.. dead. however, the next morning you finally woke up with a sore shoulder but you survived. your eyes were wild, searching for izana and instantly asked the nurse assistance to reach the public phone. back at tenjiku's hideout, izana kept thrashing the place and tearing everything down. he throws everything he could reach and it has been hours since he started it. kakucho and the others couldn't stop him, fearing the tenjiku's strongest would grow angrier. the phone rang and izana picked it up with a huff. "what?!" "izana? are you okay? where are you?" the moment he recognized your voice, strained but that voice he missed so much he dropped everything and ran to the hospital. arriving at the hospital he hugged you when he saw you at the vending machine. he nuzzled his face on the crook of your neck and held your face. he aggressively kissed you all while crying again. "you made it! you made it love!" "im sorry i made you worried" "it's alright love, most important you're here with me. i don't care about anything else. gosh i love you so much" he said while hugging you tightly again, not letting go.

manjiro sano

he struggled to keep his tears at bay, the night at the festival was hectic as they were ambushed by valhalla. kenchin got stabbed with other division members got injured as well. his loved ones were at the verge of death and he couldn't do anything about it, which made him feel helpless. when nurse and doctors announced kenchin was going to make it but yours hasn't, he grew restless. you had lost significant blood due to being beaten up by valhalla members. just because the invincible mikey's your boyfriend. mikey leaned towards a wall, sliding down as the tears he kept at bay now were streaming down nonstop. he grew sad but soon sad became anger. he stood up and punched the wall, his knuckles now bloody. he wasn't satisfied so he went outside and punched the road light pole while crying again. he kicked everything which was on his sight, frustrated that you might not survive this accident. meanwhile back at the hospital, your doctor that was examining you finally came out and told the members there that you need tons of rest however you demanded to see manjiro. the others were frantically looking for mikey, confused as where he went. as takemichi went outside, he saw mikey punching the wall at the parking lot and screamed his name "mikey kun! y/n chan wants to see you!" mikey thinks that was the fastest he ran in a long time and when he barged into your room, you were extending your arms to hug him. he hugs you while silently hiccuping. "were.. you crying.. manjiro?" you asked slowly as your energy was drained. mikey nodded and looked at you with puffy eyes, him feeling guilty as ever. "would you make it y/n?" you smiled a bit "of course i would manjiro, anything for you" mikey hugged you again, this time his tears were heard by his members outside the room.

ken ryuguji

draken was on rampage. one of his victims of the rampage was probably takeomi and takemichi the two accepted the blows he gave. "draken stop! this was my fault" senju tried stopping his punches. draken shrugged her, keeping the punches now even harder. he was angry, no, he was furious. it was honestly his fault, he saw the shooter who tried to shoot takemichi and senju however that very moment you accidently took the bullet without you knowing. you collapsed, in front of draken, takemichi and senju. draken felt worthless, he should've at least pulled you to dodge the bullet but no. he was too slow and was too late. he has left the hospital long ago, leaving some brahman members to guard the doors so when the nurse gestured one of them that you survived the lethal bullet they were frantic to find draken. they found him though, him putting takeomi in a chokehold while his feet was on takemichi's face. "y/n's awake!" draken pushed everyone, including the nurse to see your condition and hugged you so tight, you wincing as he accidentally pressed on the wound. "gosh ken, what's with the frown hm?" he looked at you lovingly, when you smiled weakly at him. he couldn't uttered a word, maybe he would say sorry to the two but for now all that matters is you made it, safe and sound.

rindou haitani

rindou should've seen this coming. he was already worried when he sees you not at home but when you didn't answered any of his calls or his messages his anxiety went through the roof. he was panicking looking for any sight of your very presence until he saw you. in front of him. bloody. unconscious. alone in a cold, dark alley. he lifted your limp body after checking your pulse, he didn't sense any. he lifted you either way and walked to the hospital. his eyes were red from crying and sobbing, his mouth kept muttering words of comfort as if you could hear him. "we're almost there baby, stay with me okay?" "please stay with me.. please" a nurse rushed to take your body to the emergency ward and rindou fell to the ground, having no strength in his legs left. he already called his brother to retrieve some footage at the area so he could beat up the person real good that harmed you. he has left the hospital when ran said he found them so he spent a decent time teaching them a lesson, all the memories of you all bloody left to die in the alley made his punches more harder. his ears went deaf as his punches never stopped. until one of his members touched his shoulder that he snapped out from it. the gang was on the floor, drowning in their own blood. "ran said y/n's awake, you go. we'll dump these guys somewhere" rindou washed his hands that had blood on them and went to hospital. there he walked pass ran and went to hug you after the nurse allowed him to. he kept his composure, not wanting to scare you anymore. "don't worry, you're safe here with me. i'll make sure no one touches you again" and he did.

[rainswept]

# THE MOON IS BEAUTIFUL, ISN’T IT?

— lyney, freminet, navia : 272, 213, 206 words respectively. these don’t really make much sense tbh.

# LYNEY : love. bouts of flattery overflowing from a mouth full of bleeding gums, bouquets of rainbow roses neatly tied together in a pretty silk bow; words slipped like cards between fingers past his teeth that are pleasing to the ear but do naught to soothe the ache beneath the skin. stiff movement, perfected performance, smile lines on a face that has seen nothing but tragedy; swooning, blushing, grinning; bright spotlights, pried open eyes blind to it all. cries for an encore are like a bandage over a profusely bleeding wound that just won’t stop, won’t quiet down. gods, he’s so tired of encores.

but he is not tired of performing. the desire to still swells beneath his skin like the blood that sustains him — it always has. but it is beginning to feel like a cut forcing that deep-seated thing to the surface instead of passion, forming a wound instead of flushed cheeks, painful and slow and agonizing as it bleeds him dry. but at least now it is familiar.

dreams that leave him in a haze, warmth settling in the pit of his belly instead of knives, bread as a peace offering, hands held tight in the face of peril, soft breaths entwined without a single kiss and gentle touches to gnawing wounds. moving away from a fireplace when it gets too hot only to return moments later when you forget the feeling of being singed; a garden overgrown with rainbow roses to the point where they almost look as if they began growing wild, unbridled and free and passionate and imperfect.

which is love to him? he doesn’t quite know.

# FREMINET : tears. he thinks his tears threaten to overflow the rushing sea, bleed into the waves until he dies in a water that cannot drown him. marks that linger as memories fade, reflections on the surface of the sun; the deteriorating seashells picked up from the shaking sand at the bottom of the ocean, forever moved by the presence of another. soft touches and fleeting wishes, dry lips with sobs seeping between the cracks like water, begging for a reprieve from the loneliness that strives to swallow him whole unlike like the sea he loves so dearly — a threat versus a plea, a soft embrace instead of a bruising hold. he doesn’t know which is which.

shaky hands held beneath a star-filled sky, glistening teardrops so plentiful they mimic the galaxies and the sea alike. currents swelling beneath fingertips and seeping beneath skin as he sinks until he can no longer see. screaming, yelling, silence, cries and wails of anything but sorrow, knives to throats and blood spilling beneath a red moon to taint shallows that were never pristine in the first place. tender flesh, calloused fingers, sharp nails digging so deep into each other you could nearly get cut. you pray to the archons that the indents in your unwounded skin scar.

# NAVIA : comfort. a warm dessert melting on the tongue, meringues, saccharine and soft; a hazy memory doused in vanilla and egg whites. beds of flowers whistling in the wind, head leaned against the base of a tree, soft strands of golden hair twirled between fingers and tangling in the grass; forehead kisses, sunsets, lighthearted giggles turned to laughs so plentiful they make your chest ache.

navia wraps her fingers around yours like she never wants to let you go — it’s tender, loving, sweet, and oh so far away. the look in her eyes is distant, clouded, guilty; she gazes at the floor, the ceiling, the corner of your mouth. anywhere she can find and grasp onto but your eyes, or your lips, or your heart, or your soul — her eyes are like the moon over the water, you always told her, and the moon’s view of anything you truly want it to see has been hidden away by a fog rolling in on the horizon.

a doomed ship sails straight into the fog blanketing the sky like it wants to protect the moon to a fault. as you hold her hand tight, aware you’re watching it, there’s an innate sense it will not come back.

[plant-ago]

An original work written for The Wizard, the Witch, and the Wild One (@worldsbeyondpod).

Refrain:

Oh, my roots, grow gentle Oh, my words, go free Go where the world is simple Cross o’er the farthest sea

Sail away, my little darling To a place that will be kind; May the waves and currents guide you May you bloom in your own time

There will come times of sorrow, But my darling, do not fear Though you’ll learn to make your own way When you call, I will be here

May your spirit ne’er be broken And your judgement always wise; And your heart and garden growing All as free as wind and sky

[infamous-light]

Captured Part II

Dark! Wandanat x Villain/Mutant! F! Reader

Ch. 1

AO3: Captured

Summary: You and your mutant friends have been in hiding due to the havoc you all wreaked over the past few years. One day, you all decided to make your presence known and rob one of the largest federal reserve banks in the U.S.

Unfortunately, things did not go as planned for you.

Word count: 2.4K

Warnings: Mind manipulation, kidnapping

As you slowly regained consciousness, a dull throbbing in your head accompanied your awakening. Your surroundings were unfamiliar – dimly lit and strangely sterile. Blinking away the haziness, you tried to move but found yourself restrained by what seemed to be sturdy metal clamps, strapping your wrists and ankles to an examination table.

As you grappled with your bindings, a peculiar sensation caught your attention. Beneath the oppressive grip of the restraints, you discovered an unexpected sight – silver cuffs encircling your wrists. The cool metal pressed against your skin, a stark contrast to the unforgiving grip of the clamps placed on top of them. These were the very same ones Natasha had used on you to nullify your powers.

Panic began to rise within you, but you tried to calm yourself as you tried to assess the situation.

Your eyes darted around the room, searching for any clues that might offer an explanation, but there was nothing. It was sparsely furnished with a cold, clinical air about it. With every passing moment, the weight of your confinement pressed down on you, the cold metal of the table digging into your skin. Sweat beaded on your forehead, your heart hammering in your chest as your mind raced with questions, each one more urgent than the last.

How did you end up here? Where were your friends? Were they safe?

As your thoughts continued to run wild, the door to the room creaked open, and two figures stepped in. Your heart skipped a beat, uncertainty gripping you tightly as your eyes darted toward them. A surge of fear and confusion swept through you as Wanda and Natasha appeared before you.

“Well, well, look who decided to join the land of the living. Did you have a nice nap?” Natasha's voice held a touch of mockery, making your anger flare up.

“What do you want from me?” You demanded, trying to hide the unease in your voice.

“You.” Wanda uttered with a terrible smile.

She approached your side. There's a palpable tension in the air as she raised her hand, delicate yet purposeful, and pressed it atop your head.

The moment her warm palm connected with your forehead, it was as if a floodgate had been opened, unleashing a torrent of memories and emotions that surged through your consciousness with an irresistible force. Images flashed before your eyes, scenes from your past replaying in vivid detail, each one accompanied by a wave of associated feelings – joy, sorrow, longing, and regret.

The sensation was unsettling. It felt as if she were rummaging through your mind, peeling back the layers of your psyche, exposing vulnerabilities you never knew existed.

“What are you doing?” You demanded.

Determination blazed in your eyes as you resisted her invasive power.

“I'm simply exploring,” Wanda explained casually, as if she were discussing the weather. Though her lips quirked up at her next words. “After all, what's the harm in uncovering a few secrets?”

A chilling unease took hold, tightening its grip around your heart. The air seemed to thicken, suffocating you with its heaviness. Every fleeting memory, once tucked away safely in the recesses of your mind, now felt exposed, touched by an eerie force that stripped away their privacy. The invasion of your thoughts was an intolerable violation and it sickened you to your core.

“You have no right to invade my mind!” You snapped, your defiance growing stronger.

Natasha, who had been silently observing the exchange, stepped forward with a cold smile. “Oh, but we do.” She interjected, her voice dripping with smugness.

You struggled against the intrusion, but Wanda's powers were formidable, and she persisted in her relentless efforts to penetrate your mind.

“You can't hide anything from me.” Wanda taunted, her red eyes glowing brighter.

You gritted your teeth, determined to protect your most intimate thoughts and secrets. With a cruel smirk, Wanda seemed to revel in her partial success. The red mist in her eyes swirled with a mix of arrogance and excitement.

“You're quite stubborn,” she admitted, acknowledging your resistance. “But I can see right through you. You're not as strong as you think.”

“You'll never break me!” You growled.

Wanda's eyes narrowed at your response, but her lips curled into a cold smile a second later. Her powers surged and the pressure in your mind intensified.

“We’ll see.” Wanda whispered, her voice a chilling reminder of the threat she posed.

The weight of Wanda's power bore down on you. It wasn't just her magic that overwhelmed you; it was the sheer intensity of her presence, the raw potency of her emotions that seemed to radiate from her being like waves of heat from a scorching fire. Tears formed in the corner of your eyes as the witch began to slither into the vulnerable cracks of your mind.

The memories of past mistakes and regrets that you had buried deep within yourself resurfaced, amplified by Wanda's manipulation.

“No, no, no.” You whimpered, shaking your head back and forth.

Despite your best efforts to block her out, Wanda's influence proved unyielding.

“There we go.” Wanda cooed, her voice dripping with a twisted sense of satisfaction.

Her hand cupped the side of your face, a gesture that should have been comforting, but instead, it felt like a cold, condescending touch.

“No, please, stop.” You pleaded.

Your voice was barely audible as you begged for relief from the torment. Though your words fell on deaf ears, Wanda continued to tighten her grip further on your mind, savoring the control she had gained. The lines between reality and the illusion she had crafted blurred, leaving you trapped deep into the abyss of your own mind, a nightmarish dance orchestrated by her chaos magic.

Your thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind, swept away by the overwhelming force of her power. You tried to fight it, to cling to the last shreds of your sanity, but it was futile. In an instant, your mind was wiped clean, a blank canvas ready to be painted with Wanda’s desires.

“Is it done?” Natasha asked in a low voice.

“Yes. She won't be aware of where she is or who she is. She'll be a docile little thing.” Wanda said in a monotone manner.

Her gaze was fixed upon you with a sense of superiority. Your once confident demeanor now morphed into a bewildered expression. It amused the witch, the way your thoughts stumbled over themselves like lost wanderers in an unfamiliar terrain. Your eyes, wide and searching, mirrored the vulnerability of a lost little doe navigating the shadows of an enchanted forest, desperately seeking some sort of safe haven.

“Good. Let’s get her out of these restraints.” Natasha stated.

Her hands moved swiftly as she undid the metallic clamps that were wrapped around your wrists and ankles. With a sigh of relief, you felt the weight of the restraints lift from your limbs as Natasha guided you to sit in an upright position. As you looked down, your frown deepened at the sight of a pair of sleek, silver cuffs adorning your wrists.

“What are these? Can you take them off? You asked, your voice tinged with confusion and concern.

Natasha's response was gentle but firm. “No, baby. Those need to stay on. Do you remember how your powers would get out of control? It’s to help you with that.”

Though the words were meant to reassure you, they only added to the fog of uncertainty that clouded your mind. You tried to recall the moment you all previously discussed this, but your memories were hazy, like fragments of a shattered mirror reflecting an incomplete image. No matter how hard you tried to fit them together, there were always pieces missing.

“Your powers can be overwhelming at times. These cuffs are designed to keep them in check, so you don't hurt yourself or others.” Wanda chimed in, her voice smooth and persuasive.

“Oh, ok.”

A part of you wanted to question them further but each time you attempted to push through the mental barrier, your thoughts faltered and retreated.

“You'll be safe with us, just as we will be safe with you.” Natasha reassured, placing a hand on your thigh as if to anchor you in their presence.

Though their words were comforting, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss.

Wanda's smile was sweet as she coaxed you with gentle words, “Come on, darling. Let's get you settled into bed.”

You slid off the table with shaky legs. Both women had a firm grip on your upper arms, their touch offering stability until you could regain your sense of balance again.

As you took cautious steps alongside Natasha and Wanda, the soft hum of the fluorescent lights overhead bathed the hallway in an almost ethereal glow. It was in this quiet moment that a nagging question began to gnaw at your thoughts, like a persistent itch just beyond your reach.

“How did I end up on that table?”

Natasha glanced at you with a sympathetic smile. “Unfortunately, you had one of those moments where your powers became unstable, but Wanda managed to stabilize it before things got too out of hand. It was a close call.”

Wanda nodded in agreement. “Your abilities are extraordinary but sometimes they can be a bit unpredictable. We've seen it happen before and we've learned how to handle it.”

As you processed this information, a peculiar haze settled over your mind. It was a feeling that was difficult to articulate, like a vague disquiet that tiptoed around the edges of your awareness.

Unbeknownst to you, Wanda observed your unease. With a soft smile, she reached out and gave your arm a gentle rub, as if to offer comfort. The touch, though reassuring, carried an underlying energy that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

Natasha raised a sharp eyebrow at her, but Wanda gave the assassin a slight shake of her head, the movement barely perceptible. The air around them seemed to vibrate with an unspoken understanding.

Eventually, you all came to a stop in front of an open door that led into a bedroom.

As you stepped into the bedroom, the inviting ambiance instantly embraced you. The soft lighting bathed the room in a warm glow. It seemed to breathe life into the space, illuminating every corner. The walls were adorned with an array of captivating paintings, each one telling a story of its own.

You stepped further inside. The bed, nestled in the corner, beckoned to you, its inviting presence tempting you to surrender to its comfort. Yet, even amidst the allure of the soft sheets and plush pillows, a part of you resisted, a tiny voice within that whispered for you to run.

Natasha stood near the doorway, her piercing gaze fixed squarely on you. Though she appeared composed, you sensed a watchful vigilance behind her demeanor, as if ready to intervene should you attempt anything.

“Isn't this bedroom lovely?” Wanda stated, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. “We've always had an eye for beauty.”

You nodded, trying to find the right words to respond, but your thoughts felt clouded. Sensing your hesitation, Wanda grabbed your hand and guided you toward the massive bed. Without a word, she led you across the room, her steps confident and sure.

The sight of it alone was enough to soothe some of the tension coiled within you. Wanda moved you to its edge, her touch reassuring as you sank onto the mattress. The softness cradled your body, momentarily lulling you into a sense of tranquility.

Wanda took a seat beside you and Natasha remained standing, both watching you with an intensity that sent goosebumps across your skin. It was as if they were studying you.

“We'll take good care of you.” Wanda murmured, her hand resting on yours.

As she leaned down, her intent clear in the softness of her gaze, you instinctively turned your head at the last second, redirecting her kiss to your right cheek. The touch of her lips against your skin felt foreign and uncomfortable, like a violation of your personal boundaries.

Wanda pulled back; her brows knitted together in a slight frown. It was as if her attempt at affection had been met with an unexpected obstacle, something she did not anticipate.

“I-I'm sorry.” You stammered, feeling a twinge of guilt for not accepting her gesture as intended.

Her hand glided from your own, tracing a chilling path up your forearm, before tightening her grip.

“Give me a kiss.” Wanda commanded, her tone absent of warmth and laced with an unsettling coldness.

Despite the conflict raging within you, something deep down compelled you to obey. As if under a spell, you turned your head and allowed Wanda to capture your lips with her own.

The kiss was cold and empty, devoid of any genuine emotion or connection. It felt as though you were going through the motions, following a script written by someone else. As Wanda pulled away, a self-satisfied smile crept back onto her face.

Natasha watched the scene with a calculating gaze. Her expression remained unreadable.

“It’s time for you to get some rest.” Natasha interrupted. “We’ll join you in a moment.”

You hesitated, feeling a sense of unease creeping into your voice as you processed her words.

“Wait, I’m not sleeping alone?” You questioned, your mind racing with possibilities, each one more unsettling than the last.

Natasha's amusement was evident in the smirk that danced on her lips. “No, you're not.”

Wanda let out a chuckle. As you looked at them, you realized that their intentions were far from innocent. A rush of embarrassment washed over you and the heat spread across your cheeks like wildfire.

Wanda's teasing tone cut through the air like a blade. “Aw, look, Nat, she's so shy.” She mocked and Natasha responded with a pleased hum.

Feeling the weight of their gazes upon you, you turned onto your side, facing away from them as they laughed at you. You heard the bathroom light switch on as Natasha's voice broke through the silence.

“Alright, I'm going to get changed.” She declared with an air of nonchalance.

Wanda remained seated on the edge of the bed. Her fingers began to toy with a few strands of your hair, and you couldn’t help but unwind under her touch.

“You need to relax, dear. Everything will be fine.” Wanda said in a soft tone.

Though you couldn’t see it, Wanda's lips curled into a sly smirk as she observed the effect her touch had on you. Sitting there, her fingers lightly grazing your scalp, she could feel the tension in your muscles melt away.

With a soft exhale, you found yourself leaning into her touch, craving more.

[hotcheetohatredwastaken]

what do you think the chains favorite breakfast foods are (if they eat breakfast)

I WAS HALFWAY THROUGH ANSWERING THIS AND MY PHONE DIED AND DELETED EVERYTHING I HAD WRITTEN, DEATH AND SORROW AND DESPAIR.

Okay I'm good now.

ANYWAYS, I split you ask into two sections: first, their favorite food ever if they can get their hands on it, the second what they like to eat on the road. And then a final unhinged rant at the bottom about the one thing about teenage boys/young men and their food that I'll never understand: Bacon.

Legend--I have a feeling that he likes sweets. Specifically, waffles with whipped cream and berries. They're a little burnt, but Ravio made them for him, so he'll pretend he doesn't notice (and grows to like them better that way). On the road, he'll go for coffee/tea (he's not picky) if one of the others make it, or nothing at all.

Hyrule--does he have a favorite breakfast food? Food isn't very stable where he comes from--Legend and Wild would spoil him so much in regard of expanding his palate. But I imagine that something like a fried mixture of beef/sausage, vegetables, and a starch (perhaps an even poorer version of an already poor person food Shepherd's Pie, perhaps? it could be a breakfast food) would be a sort of filling, tasty, and easy to procure/make/preserve food that he'd like. On that note, I would say something simple, easy to get and preserve, and hardy would be his go to breakfast on the road--maybe meat jerky.

Wild--Also a sweets person. Fruit cake, cinnamon rolls, frosted cupcakes, basically all the little delicacies he could get at a dumb party 100 years ago, he ain't picky, it's for breakfast and it's fueling a day long sugar high. On the road he, unlike the other Links, can be pretty creative with his breakfasts, and he likes his spice as well. So, I think he'd like Meaty rice balls.

Four--direct this question to someone else please. He has four voices in his head fighting to answer right now, and none of them agree. I surely dont know if he doesn't.

Time--Pancakes and farm-fresh scrambled eggs and toast with jam. Malon makes it for him. What can I say. On the road he is a habitual coffee drinker, he wouldn't be functioning in the mornings without it. But he'll also take a poached egg if he has the time (heh).

Warrior--unlike Time who is a habitual coffee drinker, he is a coffee connoisseur. He likes the breakfasts they serve at the castle--a lot of meats and fruits, expensive, and on top of it all, well plated. Not to say that he can't eat simply--he was in a war, mind you--just that he prefers not to. On the road, he strikes me as the kind that would drink those tasteless quick oats (y'know you just add water, shake and go?) and also be very vocal about much time (heh) it's saving him (being none). I don't know what the Hyrule equivalent of those are.

Twilight--our favorite country boy. I think he likes a true southern breakfast. Ham and pan-fried potatoes and eggs over-easy, with a side of cheesy grits and sausage biscuits and gravy like Uli used to make for him (I HC this man has a black hole of a stomach, out of all the Links). On the road he'll inhale a boiled egg or two (salted and peppered if he's feeling fancy) that Wild made for him. I also head canon that Twilight likes tea with an intensity. And not only sweet tea, but like, ALL of the teas. He gets obsessive. I literally have in my detail/subplot tracking documents for BDOR the following entry underneath chapter 8--Tea: "Twilight’s cure to Wild’s voice is tea. His cure to life’s woes is tea."

Wind--whatever his grandma is making, probably with seafood involved. I've had a crab-spinach-egg casserole for breakfast before, it was good, so I'll give him that. On the road, I can see him packing a lot of bread and some meat (dried fish if he can get it).

Sky--This guy honestly has me stumped. Do those on Skyloft eat Loftwing eggs, or are they considered taboo? They have a lot of pumpkins around--do they incorporate them into their meals?@needfantasticstories you know a lot of Skyward Sword lore, bequeath me your wisdom. Anyways on the road he's a meat and bread person like Wind. Practical.

Now, for my rant about young men and their food quirks:

Bacon. Bacon, as I have witnessed, drives the most reasonable of men insane.

I just a few things to say about this. I have younger brothers, and I born witness to many male sleepover parties. I--as the resident nasty fe-male XD--have been (forced) to cook for them in the mornings. Set a pile of bacon in front of them (or really any meat, but I have found that bacon has the strongest affect) and they turn into WOLVES. They start to crowd around and stare as soon as they begin to smell it (which hey, give me space in the kitchen, please!), snatch it up before the grease even cools, and then retreat into their separate corners of the living room/kitchen and scarf it down, all while avoiding eye contact and projecting just how much they don't care about the bacon they're eating (perhaps so one of the others don't take notice and try to steal it). There's an odd little ritual/rules to the thing, too: for example, it's frowned upon to take more than three or four pieces at a time, there has to be enough for everyone, obviously; but if you finish a second and third serving before some poor sod stumbles in and gets himself a piece--why that is acceptable, even encouraged. But at all times, you could feel them watching each other, judging whether each person had taken acceptable amounts. 6 at once, I have determined, is veritably considered too much, as I have watched an entire group of mid-late teenage boys chase another through the house and outside for this crime of greed. Another thing was the presence of literally any other edible food. If there was anything else--eggs, fruit, even something like a few slices of unbuttered toast or coffee or juice sitting out, this reaction was largely tempered--even if none of the boys took the other foods, they would take a meager one or two pieces of bacon and be satisfied, perhaps reassured that other food was present and their hope of a filling breakfast was not in vain. Most, at that point they would restrain themselves from eating anything (other than their bacon tax) and wait so that everyone could eat together. But the mad scramble that occurs when there is bacon and only bacon in the kitchen (even if other things are cooking, nearly done, and visible to them) is otherworldly.

I never saw it with anything else, not eggs, not fruit, not even sausage or any other breakfast food. And it must be noted that I was exempt from their little ritual of judgement--perhaps as the only woman, or perhaps as the cook, I was allowed to take as much bacon as I liked from the pile, once the initial wave had attacked and retreated with their bounty (and the strips of bacon had cooled enough that mortal human hands such as my own could pick them up). And while they behaved like beasts, I was always very politely thanked for making breakfast once it was over and the frenzy had abated.

Anyways, your ask got me thinking about Malon making a pile of bacon for the boys, activating the beforehand undiscovered "PANIC! BACON!" mode in their brains, and just being utterly confused as they turn into animals. Just the boys descend, and then a few shouts of "Thanks, Malon!" drift in on the wind as they scatter like racoons with treasure, leaving an empty plate spinning behind them.

[yourlocaltreesimp]

dang that puppet idea you had and okami's bit gave me shivers! What do you think the chain's individual reactions would be?

These have admittedly been sitting here for a while…. Sorry! Based on this, and this. Hope you enjoy!

TW: mentions Kidnapping, hallucinations and malnourishment, murder, does this qualify as yandere? Putting it here just in case

Also i’m trying out a new format so yeah

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Time

At first he blames the shadow. It’s convenient. It’s easy. He knows that your kidnapping was logically not his fault. There was nothing he could’ve done. He kills without remorse until he finds you. The blood dripping from his blade is the last thing he’s aware of when he finally sees you. He’s more keenly aware of the gnawing guilt as he sees how badly you’ve been treated, clothes ragged and that apathetic thousand yard stare. His heart was ripped from him, leaving him to bleed out slowly, to wither away without you.

Twilight

I mean when I say that he goes feral. Just a smidge if we’re sticking with the not yandere Twi, but hoo boy if he is that is a feral man. He has no care for the bodies he leaves in his wake to finally get back to you and is beyond pissed to see that you’ve been not only harmed, but taunted with the image of you. But that rage falters when you don’t notice them and when you grow sorrowful… he can’t imagine what they’ve done to you so that your very mind is different. But when he gets a hold of that shadow he swears his death will be merciless.

Wild

He’s absolutely beside himself after you first disappeared, and perhaps they all were. But He couldn’t snap back so readily, no matter what it takes. The others give him a hard time, their stress getting the better of them, but all he remembers is 100 years ago and the constant pressure to be good enough. Twice now he’s been a disappointment. He spirals in on himself when he sees hollowed cheeks and dull eyes that hold no warmth of remembrance. The you in front of him is not enough to ease his worries.

Warriors

One of the most level headed after you first disappeared, making good enough plans until they could find you. But he places all of the blame on himself. He’s supposed to be better than letting comrades be stolen and taken to their deaths. He’s supposed to be a better leader than that. And the consequences bear on him when you do little more than stare at the wall and him to yourself. He’s seen soldiers walk out of war less haunted than how you looked. And to think he was supposed to shield you from the violence.

Hyrule

He lost himself a little in the beginning. He’d become so used to the company, to having you there, that he’s acutely aware of the missing spot. He tries to fool himself into believing you’re there, setting out your bedroll and leaving a spot where you’d usually sit at dinner, but it only serves to make him feel worse. It takes everything in him to restrain himself when he sees you. The barrier shocked him when he tried to reach you and his magic couldn’t get through. He wouldn’t last much longer without you there.

Sky

He’s incredibly quick to resort to isolation. He caves in on himself at the fact that another he’s loved so dearly has been so violently taken away from him and lot to suffer. But the first time around the surface was safe enough, and Zelda had Impa… but you were not given the luxuries of safety and protection. He was going to rescue you if it took everything from him. Because you were his everything. If killing another god is what must be done to get you back then his sword is in hand.

Legend

Yeah he didn’t take this well. He isolates himself out of pure frustration, with both himself, the others and the shadow. And to whatever poor soul gets in his way, I truly am sorry. He downs more bodies than probably reasonable, but it’s methodical. It keeps his focus off of you, what they’ve rendered you down to, the husk you’ve become. He takes so many lives so that yours may be returned to you.

Wind

He tries not to stress, to stay laid back and to glue the group together. He tries to pretend like nothings wrong, because he knows that it’s what you’d want. He knows you wouldn’t want him to worry. But he has half a mind to go off and find you on his own. He already found and saves Aryll, so what’s another Sibling to save? But that determination wilts at how hollow and broken you look, unwilling to acknowledge them as anything more than hallucinations. But he knows you’ll get better soon. You’re tougher than this… right?

Four

He finds a hard time keeping himself together, physically and literally. There’s so many conflicting orders in his mind that it’s difficult to breathe. You used to calm him, to ease his nerves and soothe his mind. But to see how mistreated you were, to see how his carelessness harmed you, that only served to make his already scattered mind shattered.

[justsescape]

"Heeeey, nonnie~! I'm wearing your favorite outfit today! How's it look~?"

The irony was palpable. Uzaki-chan looked exactly the same as always: completely hidden behind a pair of breasts so wide, so tall, that they could easily plug the door of a double-car garage. Not even gravity itself could stop her boobs from staying satisfyingly round in spite of their cartoonishly gigantic proportions. Pristine skin was interrupted by pinkish areolae the size of manhole covers, and each of them were topped by nipples so firm and thick that they could be used as balance beams. Perhaps if you stood on one of them, you could actually see the rest of her. You'd just have to be careful not to slip and fall into her crushing cleavage.

"Come on, nonnie! Can't you tell?" Uzaki-chan must have been leaping; the way her gigantic tits wobbled like gelatin was evidence of that. But at the apex of every jump, you could just barely, barely catch a glimpse at the tips of bunny ears rising above her chest.

"Hop! Hop! I'm a bunny! I'm in my bunny suit, nonnie~!"

It was more like she had her birthday suit in the front and her bunny suit in the back. Uzaki-chan had once so proudly declared that she had finally surpassed five feet in height -- but that's only if you measured from the ground to the tops of her overdeveloped bust. The rest of her barely surpassed forty-eight inches. Such a big difference doomed this bunny girl to spending most of her waking hours in a staring contest with her own towering boobwall. Its only feature was the long, dark line of cleavage that rose far, far above her head. Surely, it must have been like staring into an endless chasm, into the unknowable deep -- not that such a thing could faze her boundless energy, of course.

"Let's celebrate with an Easter egg hunt!" Uzaki-chan's outstretched hand waved above her humongous chest. Such enthusiastic gesturing was met by similarly enthusiastic motions from her lengthened nipples. You got the sense that if you pulled on one of them, it would vibrate back and forth like a spring-loaded doorstop. "Can you find where I hid them all, nonnie? I hid them reeeeeal well~!"

All that wild movement, however, would be her undoing. Uzaki-chan's colossal breasts had slid ever-so-slightly apart from one another, revealing that her cleavage was cradling dozens -- if not hundreds -- of multicolored Easter eggs. They piled atop one another like breakfast cereal overflowing in a bowl. Naturally, it didn't take long for them to start to spill from her cleavage like water from an overturned glass. They toppled, they tumbled, they rolled across the ground like scattering marbles.

"Oh... oh no! Th-they're falling out?! But... but that ruins it, nonnie! I can't believe this is happening!"

Uzaki-chan's sorrowful tone inspired you to finally circumnavigate her ridiculous rack. There she stood, on the tips of her toes, legs shaking, her face painted with worry as she held her hands up to her cleavage like she was trying to block a leak on a sinking ship. Her shortened stature didn't preclude her from being delightfully curvy. Fishnets clung so tightly to her shapely thighs that flesh bulged in the gaps; surely once she took them off, her skin would be impressed with red patterned lines from where the strings once resided. Easter eggs repeatedly struck the top of her head as if they were being delivered by conveyor belt.

"I wanted to do an Easter egg hunt with you, ow!, but... well, I can't really, ow!, move that far," she admitted bashfully. "So I had to, ow!, just hide them all in the only place I could reach... ow!"

Yet another Easter egg plopped across her head before arcing toward the ground -- but this one didn't crack. Instead, it splashed. Unbeknownst to Uzaki-chan, her two heaving boobs had begun to leak. Milk funneled from the tips of her nipples like they were faucets, producing puddles that were growing with every passing moment. They pooled under her chest; they slicked the floor underneath your shoes. Broken eggshells were lifted from the ground by her own product and floated in various random directions.

"H-hey, nonnie! Don't get distracted by the ones that are breaking! Forget about those!" Uzaki-chan clenched her fists tightly at her sides. She stomped her feet in the milk as if it were a puddle of rainwater. "We can still have fun with the ones that are left! Go dive in and find them~!"

[elentarial]

Fëanorian Week Day 1-Ash

It isn’t until the moment he realizes he cannot tell Ambarto’s bones from the rest of their dead that he knows the meaning of loss. The concept is still foreign, despite Alqualondë, despite finding Grandfather Finwë on the steps of Formenos. 

Even as he stares at the charred, soaked remains, it all feels like some cruel nightmare. It is said that the Fëanturi possess a terrible sense of humor.

The body only looks like Telufinwë in the same sense that a half-finished painting looks like its subject. His freckles stand out against the bloodless pallor of his cheeks in a way that isn’t right- where the flush of adolescence has always lent his skin a certain rosy sheen. It looks nothing like the waxy wanness of death.

Now, his body is lost in the flecks of ash that float up from the burning ships, and all they have left of him is drowned in frigid seawater and an angry, disillusioned mirror image who calls themselves their brother. Nelyo breathes ash and a sense of dissatisfaction.

There is a part of him that can not accept his youngest brother’s death.

He finds himself expecting Telufinwë to come bounding up the shore at any moment, bow in hand, wild-eyed like he’s never been gone at all. He can envision him apologizing to their father, wincing with the same sheepish embarrassment any of them can muster whenever they disappoint Atar.

He finds himself frustrated, seeking out Telvo’s face among the crowd of their followers.

He finds himself wanting to comfort the twins when difficult questions arise, but there is no longer a set of twins, only a singleton.

He notices his absence more than he ever realized he would, and with every passing day that the loss doesn’t grow more real, his gut begins to creep lower and lower with the realization of how deep his affections run for his younger brothers.

Sometimes, he lays awake, composing conversations, even entire scenes in his mind.

He envisions Telufinwë responding to Atar’s death- the shock way his mouth would slip open, the fall of his eyebrows, the sorrow in his tree-bright eyes. He sees his lips turning up hesitantly, fearful but also hopeful.

“What now?” he’d ask, face full of uncertainty, “You are Noldoran. What do we do now?” 

He tells Telufinwë about how they should try and deceive Morginotto and hears all too clearly his skepticism.

Telufinwë would question Atar’s word as well. He’d be nervous, yes, but never afraid, bold in a way only the very young can be.

He knows Telufinwë would stare over Curvo’s head with his eyebrows pinched together because it is strange to have to look down to meet the eyes of his superior, even if Curufin is only one step closer to the throne.

In his mind, he watches Telufinwë imitate Tyelko’s crude language and even cruder behavior, although he looks over his shoulder still as if their mother might be watching. He laughs aloud at the thought of it, startling awake Kano.

He pictures Telvo smiling at him when he finally loses his temper with Curvo’s scheming, sees him turn to his twin with a giddy smile and whisper,

“That took long enough, didn’t it?” 

and then laughs softly when Pityo’s sharp smile matches his own.

He sees and hears and feels his youngest brother respond to so many new things in Beleriand.

There is so much left to say, but ashes are all that remain of all of them.

@feanorianweek

[zablife]

Birthday Drabble "Provoke"

This is for my amazing moot, Em @the-makingsofgreatness who requested a drama filled Luca drabble with the prompt word "provoke." It's a bit longer than a drabble so I hope you enjoy the added word count. I drew inspiration from "Happier Than Ever" by Billie Eilish. Happy birthday, darl! I hope all your wishes come true!

“I want you to be happy here, amore,” Luca said, taking your hands in his larger ones. Ducking his head to catch your gaze, Luca added, “I can tell there are things about me you want to say, but for some reason, you’re afraid if you provoke me something might happen to you.” His voice was calm and softer than usual, a gentle plea for you to confide in him with the trust lovers showed one another, but you wondered if it wasn’t just a carefully crafted performance.

Life with Luca was full of dizzying contradictions. Although he once promised you the world, he had since ruined everything good in your life. He claimed to adore you, but ignored your misery in a strange city where you felt lonely and forgotten. He forced you to live in a violent world, insisting you were safer by his side—Ironic considering his own mercurial temper. And you were certain that if you voiced your concerns and sought solace in him now, he would only make you more afraid.

Your silence bothered Luca and he dropped your hands suddenly to reach for a toothpick, his impatience clear as he twirled it between his thumb and forefinger and began pacing the floor. You rubbed your temples, unable to think with him stalking past you. “I don’t know what to say, Luca. Maybe I should write it all down to clear my head first. I’m so confused,” you admitted, wringing your hands.

Luca halted his movements and narrowed his eyes at you, asking incredulously, “You have to write yourself a letter to tell you what to do? Baby, I can tell you what to do. Just talk to me.” He gestured with his hands emphatically, growing agitated.

“Alright,” you conceded, aware that he would not stop until you had given him an answer. “I admit this life...the things you do scare me. And recently I’ve been thinking-“ you stopped suddenly to gauge his reaction, swallowing harshly unable to say the words.

“I wish I could explain it better because you’ve been everything to me for so long…” You babbled attempting to soften the blow before coming to your point. “I think I'd be happier if I were away from you.” You rushed the words out, backing away from him as your heart beat wildly in your chest. “I wish it wasn’t true,” you added in a small voice. Looking down at your feet, you braced yourself for flying objects or an explosion of curses to be hurled at you, but nothing came. Luca stood motionless, hands shoved in his pockets, seeming to accept your words.

“If you were unhappy, you should have said so sooner,” Luca replied with a sorrowful expression. Then you watched him shake his head gently as he crossed the room to his desk. Picking up the phone, he mumbled something down the line in Italian before replacing the receiver carefully. 

“What are you going to do to me?” you asked with wild eyes. His practiced ease was throwing you off balance, worried he still might snap.

“Nothing, tesoro. I would never hurt you,” he proclaimed earnestly, sounding as though you’d wounded him gravely. He sat back in his chair, lighting a cigarette as he seemed to get lost in his thoughts. He took a long drag, dropping his head against the back of the chair and you waited for him to say something, anything about your accusation. However, he remained eerily silent. You watched him close his eyes as he exhaled a thick stream of smoke from his nostrils. It was the same way he sat in contemplation over his enemies and a cold shiver clawed at your spine.

“Luca, I never told anyone anything bad about you, I swear. This was between us. Our relationship didn’t work because we’re very different people,” you explained, chewing at your lip as you finished.

“Let’s not waste our time together. We don’t have to make each other feel badly now that it’s ending,” he assured you. His words might have been comforting coming from anyone else, but a deep uneasiness came over you as the door to his office pushed open and two of his men arrived to stand on either side of you.

As they caged you in, clamping down on your arms with brute force, you struggled against them, crying out to Luca for help. He looked past you as he stamped out his cigarette with finality. The tattoo on his right wrist became visible as he moved, a black hand appearing in your vision as silent reminder of his vengeful nature. Then giving a nod of his head, you were carried away as Luca turned from you for the last time.

**Request a birthday drabble here.