#during the painful bit

[mordremrose]

I’m just gonna write a little thing! A little thought for Bloom, nothing too intense, just so I don’t forget it!

1000 words later? Whoops

Writing below the cut, major spoilers for the end of Heart of Thorns and implied End of Dragons spoilers but nothing explicit from EoD :]

Bloom

“Kill me, Commander.” Trahearne could hear his own voice tremble, as horror overtook his dear friend’s face. Around them all, their friends— Rytlock, Caithe, Canach, Marjory, Braham— were exhausted. Worn thin by the fight against the jungle dragon, both physical and within the Dream.

“What? No! Mordremoth is dead. We destroyed its mind from the inside.” The commander protested, their fingers curled around the hilt of Caladbolg.

“But I still hear its voice.” Trahearne looked down at his hands, twisted and blighted as they were. His body was not his— he was corrupted. It was only cruel fate that he had kept his mind this long. Or perhaps something more sinister.

“Mordremoth is alive. One last hateful vestige… a terrible seed, planted deep in my mind.”

Trahearne’s hands curled into fist, as he took a deep steadying breath.

“You must kill me, Commander, before that seed grows. Before… before Mordremoth reclaims what it has lost.”

He reached out now, hands on his friend’s shoulders. The tears streaming down their face broke his heart. He did not want this. He didn’t want to hurt them, to see them suffer so.

Trahearne wished there was another way.

“What is left of me can’t survive on its own, my friend.” He croaked, and felt the Commander tremble beneath his hands. Were they always so small?

“Strike now or—“

Against his will, a rage rose up. A sick bile that boiled in his stomach and burned through his chest as his mind lurched.

Through his mouth, Mordremoth spoke.

“I am the future! I am this world! You cannot destroy me!” The dragon roared, hands tightening around the commander.

“Run while you can!” It took everything he had left to force his fingers to uncurl, to release the commander even as the dragon wanted to tear them to shreds to be remade anew.

Caladbolg flashed in the corner of his eye.

“No!” The commander yelled. Strike true my friend! Trahearne wanted to yell. But he couldn’t, and his mind went dark.

There was no great explosion. There was no dying scream.

If you asked those present what happened, none of them gave any concrete answer.

Canach hesitated to answer, but would confirm that Mordremoth was no longer hounding his mind, or any of the sylvari.

All Rytlock would say was that the confrontation wasn’t pretty.

Caithe mourned Trahearne, in her quiet and melancholic manner, and asked not to push the matter further.

Braham would scowl, shake his head, and shove his way past, unwilling or perhaps unable to describe that final blow.

Marjory Delaqua, normally so elegant and clever with her words, who could see the twists of a plot before anyone else— when she was asked, she could only shake her head and reply ‘I don’t know’.

The Commander didn’t answer at all, because no one was able to find them to ask.

Eventually, researchers at the newly established lab of Rata Novus confirmed what the entire world held its breath to hear.

Mordremoth was dead. He had to be, to explain the slow steady trickle of magic escaping the jungle, supposedly as the dragon… decayed wasn’t the right word, but it conveyed the idea well enough. It was a slow death, they said, not quite the explosive reaction from Zhaitan, who had gorged itself on magic before its death, but a gradual decay. It changed things, about magic, about how the people of Tyria and the soon to be established Dragon’s Watch understood the flow of magic around and through the Elder Dragons. But it was dead.

It had to be.

He woke up. His body ached, as it always did, as he woke. A consequence of being too bigsmall. He stirred slowly, limbs stretching out and tail dragging behind. He had buried himself beneath massive vines this time, the weight of them both familiar and restricting. These conflicting sensations, the constant disagreement with himself… it was the only thing he could rely on. Even his name escaped his memory, although he could hear whispers of it on the edges of his mind.

Traherdremaneth.

It didn’t matter, really.

He moved slowly, not truly wanting to rise, but knowing he must.

He was something in between, and there was no stillness for him. No place of his own.

His one companion, if you could call it that, would be upon him soon. A dogged purserer, both a thorn in his side and a trusted ally, trailed behind him. For a time he thought they left him— and the feelings that had wrought left him stationary in a deep cave for nearly a week before they had reappeared.

He didn’t want them close, he knew that much, but they were one of the few things he had, a consistency. He couldn’t see them well, not with the distance between them, but he could always make out the broken blade at their hip. The one that made the scar across his chest ache.

He wondered what would happen if he let them get closer. Would they strike? Would they know him?

They were his enemyfriend. What would they make of him? Caution kept him at a distance from them.

The longer he was awake, the more memories he could half-remember.

The Orrian landscape stretches out before him and it reeks of his sibling, twisting beneath the dirt. The undead don’t notice him, not yet, and he can take a moment to look closer at the coral. It was neither alive nor dead. Not unlike himself and yet so different to him or anything he had ever encountered before.

He missed his siblings, their quiet talks among the then empty roots, among safe coils with their constant presence around him. They were too distant to feel or simply gone now and it unnerved him. This was wrong. Perhaps they could help him make it right.

There was one other thing, other than his sort-of companion and his unsteady roiling mind, that remained constant. And this was the true constant. A steady beacon, that he could not see or hear, but simply felt in a way that he could not describe. A magnetic sort of pull that had him orbiting closer and closer.

It drew him in, out of the depths and dark underbelly of the jungle and the cave systems, towards the strange golden stones, the elegant walls meant to keep out creatures that wished to destroy the beacon. He was not welcome there, not yet, even though he meant no harm. He just needed to be closer.

He didn’t know how he knew that. He just knew it.

[dizzybizz]

"this is regrettably the best kiss of your life, you understand?"

[blackkatdraws2]

I have a lot of leftover drawings in my gallery. [Blank Scripts AU]

[Content Warning: Images below contain Gore, Death, and Disturbing/Uncomfortable Imagery]

I find it a bit cute knowing they start out as crazy and then slowly settle into something calmer and relatively healthier after learning to adapt to each other's lust-turned-love. [Stanley did it first but hey :3]

[triglycercule]

nightmare viewing the murder time three as little toys but more in like a little spoiled kid kinda way. because it would be funny and if you take into the account that he was like 6 before getting corrupted and do some mental loopholes it would be even funnier. like these are his dolls (killer dust and horror) and this is their barbie dreamhouse (his castle). they all have to stay in one room because nightmare needs to keep his toys in a toy box. the toys only ever come out when he wants to play but oh damn it they keep on breaking out!! silly toys,,, and then he locks them into the room again.

nightmare serves them food with plastic tea cups and plastic plates and there is no food. there is no tea. they have to imagine the food because dolls can't literally eat. there are food containers and stuff in the house but its all just a bunch of empty boxes. horror starts tweaking out after he scavenges the kitchen and finds a cereal box and milk carton that have NOTHING in it (why keep empty boxes?????)

they have to go where he wants them to go. nightmare gets to dress them up in whatever he wants because theyre his dolls they can wear anything he wants. it gets incredibly embarrassing when the trio is forced to wear pink pretty dresses and fight like that. or they have to go around the castle doing stupid fucking roleplays and it gets weird because theyre being forced to reenact a bullying scene and nightmare's giving them the death stare if they don't get it right (is this projection. this must be some form of coping mechanism dust theorizes)

and then you know nightmare's not exactly the best toy owner so he loses a few of his dolls here and there. maybe they get destroyed when he was playing a bit too rough with them! (killer dies in battle for like the 29th time) but its okay because he can just go back on down to the store (something new) and buy. wait no. steal another doll and then put it back in his dreamhouse and BOOM he has a full set again!! so sweet so cute. his dolls don't have consciousness what are you talking about theyre begging to be let go?? that's all just your imagination. what do you mean you're asking about the several slowly dying bodies with removed arms or legs in his dungeon. oh that's just where the broken but not yet destroyed toys go dw theyre fine its humane

[tofusfortbhk]

Something about Minamotos and unrequited love…

[jeeaark]

Part 1 Part 2

Thought I was ready for Lae'zel's reaction after the betrayal.

I was not. Cut to ribbons. Dead. Words stabby heart. My brain absolutely went on auto-pilot after that, and is probably why I don't remember any specifics after this part.

All I know is that Greygold didn't cope well and abandoned all their values. Can't have a broken heart if you become heartless~

[merrysithmas]

still crying bc Jim leaning over Spock in a hospital bed, hands clasped, desperation alight, and Spock's famous line, "This simple feeling is beyond V'ger's comprehension."

this was in 1979. The AIDS crisis started in 1981.

That scene must have rang so agonizingly true for so many queer fans during those dark days. Another reason why Star Trek & Spirk are inexorably linked to queer history and queer fandom.

And not to sound vindictive because I genuinely don't mean it like that: but truly Star Trek is a queer fandom for a queer show. That is why modern iterations who gloss over or omit this, (or refuse to admit this) just do not ring true to the fandom.

Straight or Queer - it doesn't matter who you are - if you enjoy Trek you enjoy it for what it is and you can instantly recognize when it is not itself. You veritably cannot de-queer Trek.

It is empowering, beautiful, and truly goes where no one has gone before.

[possamble]

I'm not allowed to be on social media for more than two seconds today but I just wanted to say that Laios will absolutely have his own reaction to all this as someone who would die for Falin but has also imprinted on Marcille as his Emotional Support Comphet White Girl Not-Girlfriend along the way

[scarletspider2the2ndpower]

Chasm: Curse of Kaine (Vol. 1/2024), #1.

Writer: Steve Foxe; Penciler and Inker: Andrea Broccardo; Colorist: Brian Reber; Letterer: Joe Caramagna

[coconut530]

[bleaksqueak]

While I absolutely hate not posting, I'm also very glad Soli is on mini-july break because guess who has two thumbs and just spent the past two days in a migraine coma!? THIS GUYYyyowowwww.

[otiksimr]

A gift for @seawing-vibes

[thedisablednaturalist]

Office disability culture is so fucked in environmental science and fieldwork. Like the mindset that to do the job you have to be in perfect physical health or you should just quit. Like I'm not talking about something that is 100% physical labor here, everything is mostly achievable with aids and you don't need to be able to do every single thing. But there's this weird like..pride..that my older coworkers have. They work out in the gym and brag about how many reps they did. They tease each other for having medical issues. They don't ask for accommodations because they fear that their legitimacy will be hurt. That it means that they can't do their job anymore. That they won't be TRUSTED to do their jobs anymore. That it will get taken away.

So they FURTHER hurt their bodies by not resting, not taking breaks, not using ergonomic equipment, not using safety equipment. Not drinking enough water. Not using mobility aids when they are so old that it's supposed to be acceptable. They don't use the scooters at the grocery store, they don't use their handicapped placard, they don't use knee pads or compression gloves.

And here I come in, 24 years old, looking perfectly healthy. And I use walking sticks, I sit down a lot, I have my care bag, I have a ton of gadgets for making fieldwork more comfortable, I have boundaries and limits, I wear braces and knee pads and compression gloves. I use my handicapped placard.

They react in one of two ways:

1. How DARE I. I'm so lucky to be young and no one sees THEM having to do all those things (literally nothing is stopping them but pride). Like old man if you need a break take a fucking break. I'm not going to hurt my health to make you feel better about hurting yours. I'm not risking a flare up to spare the 65 year olds feelings. Im gonna take my break and use my equipment cause my boss doesn't care as long as the work gets done. I'm tired of glares from 100 year olds making themselves struggle across the parking lot when they could also be using the fucking scooter. (I never take the last scooter, there's always another available. Also it's not my fault if walmart only provides 2 scooters for the whole store).

2. It shows them its okay. Its okay to need aids. When I first showed up at my job it was very...macho..everyone was afraid of seeming old (theres probably only 3 of us under 30 in the whole department, most people are at least 50, mainly 65 year olds). Then they saw me using my walking sticks, taking my medicine openly, bringing a chair with me when working away from my desk, using my TENS unit. I overheard one lady ask her granddaughter what fibromyalgia was (apparently she had spotted my pain tracking journal).

My older coworker with a bad knee got a walking stick like mine and beamed when she showed me. The grandmother uses a cane and a walker interchangeably and more often. I get asked where I get my little portable fan and pocket heaters and special clothing. Even abled coworkers are doing it. My coworker who's younger than me sets alarms to take breaks now just like I do. People seem more comfortable using things that help them now.

My boss has really struggled. He has a lot of internalized ableism and hates thinking of himself as crippled. He spent his whole life physically active and strong and all these health issues and overexertion are catching up with him. Like he did environmental testing in areas with fucking radon. He did work where they threw asbestos around like snow for fun. He's done a ton of really hard physical work. He grew up with the mentality that pain was just something everyone has to push through. But I think seeing a young person make the choice not to push through is helping him a bit. He wants to make his own walking stick, he goes to the doctor more. We bond over having constant medical issues and I even gave him the name of my surgeon. Yea he still says stuff like "shoot me if I have to use a wheelchair" (not as much anymore since he now knows I use one) but he's getting there.

Yeah so I've had this in my drafts for a bit and I wanted to update that my boss has been walking around with a fucking broken ankle for the past couple of weeks. He thought it was just arthritis pain and eventually couldn't take it anymore and went to the foot doctor. The doctor has no clue how the fuck he's been walking on it. Now he has to wear the boot and he's banned from fieldwork while he heals.

Older people and the elderly need to learn that it's okay to not push through the pain and ask for help. Everyone needs to learn this, and not be like my fucking boss. Go to the doctor, get that sore joint checked out. Get those tests done. Use that aid. Stop walking on a broken ankle just because you can.

[itsmespicaa]

"Seeds of Stories, Brought by the Wind..." (part 2/2)

(part 1 here!)   

⚠️ Contains Sumeru Archon Quest SPOILER !!!

Fun fact: Nahida’s voiceline ‘When it’s windy’ is: “The wind never blows in the Sanctuary of Surasthana...Oh, sorry. That's probably obvious to you.” I’m not crying what tHE FUC-

The fic continuation of the last page is below :D

------------

Venti shouted, waving and practically flying to her, “Buer!”

It seemed that Nahida had just escaped from a room of her people asking for her guidance and advice on what to do next with the Akademiya, from the way she was stunned at the unexpected call of her true name. 

“Eh…?”

Without warning, he grasped her smaller hands in his as the wind sang and blew wildly around them, reflecting his unrepressed joy.

Venti laughed: “Ah…it’s been much too long!”

The Traveler ran to them before looking around, worried that others would be suspicious of the strange interaction of their archon and a strange bard from afar. But it seems most had to cover their eyes due to the strong wind just a while ago, and when they turned to Venti with a raised eyebrow, he just winked at them.

“This hardly seems like a proper place for a reunion between old friends–what say you, oh Dendro Archon?”

It seems Venti’s antics finally caught up with Nahida, who smiled back, albeit more subdued than the former. “Alright. Let’s go somewhere more private.”

~0~

In a flurry of white feathers and verdant leaves, they all reappeared inside the Sanctuary, the quiet ambience enveloping them gently like a cradle to a newborn babe.

“Mm, I haven’t been here in a very long time…” Venti sighed, eyes closed as though to listen even closer to the whispers behind the walls. When he opened them again, his eyes reflected the vibrant green like fireflies at night. “It feels familiar and yet…completely reborn.”

Unbeknownst to any of them, the Traveler’s eyes widened slightly at his remarks, lips shaking slightly with words they’ve agreed to never speak of.

“I guess…that’s what happens when you lose your memories,” Venti finally turned to Nahida with a forlorn smile, who had simply been observing him from beside the Traveler. The Dendro Archon clenched her hands together before walking up to him, meeting his gaze.

“...Barbatos,” Nahida started, “just as the wind blows the seeds of every story all across Teyvat, I’m sure the wind has told you of the story that was uncovered in Sumeru as well. I…I apologize for not greeting you in a manner befitting a fellow Archon, but I would like to extend my hand in friendship once more just as I did all those years ago.”

To her surprise, Barbatos simply giggled, his airy laughter jingling like bells. “I never knew how adorably anxious you felt when we first met~!”

Going down on his knees, he enveloped her gently like a mother bird brooding its younglings, catching the other archon off guard. “And our friendship never ended,” he said, his voice tapering off into a whisper, “no matter where you are in the endless river of time, you will always be a dear friend of mine, Buer.”

Nahida felt…comfort, familiar and oh so warm, an old memory that did not feel hers resurfacing from under the rubble, like a tiny sapling that willed itself to survive amidst the harsh and unforgiving nature imposed onto it.

After a second of hesitation, she returned the hug, burying her face in the awfully familiar scent of dandelions and wind, wanting to keep this feeling with her for eternity no matter what.

But alas, nothing lasts forever.

“I also heard from a certain Traveler,” Venti nodded at the quiet person watching them from a distance, “that the wind…never blows inside this tiny bird cage of yours. I see what you mean now.”

He stood up and summoned his lyre, walking to the middle of the platform, to the place she was trapped in for half a millennium. The place where the wind could not reach, where her tears and anxieties remained unseen and hidden from the world, her fate sealed by the people she was born to protect.

Strumming his lyre, he beamed at her: “Time to correct that!”

A gentle breeze flowed within her former cage, caressing her cheeks and the tips of her feet, bumping into her as though asking her to come play with them. Nahida’s eyes glimmered as silver white wings sprouted from Venti’s back, feathers floating in the air as he sang.

Ah…this voice…

Memories flooded her vision as snapshots of beautiful moments blurred past her eyes, untouched by the ravages of time. The tiny sapling grew larger and larger until it touched the sky above, to where they would return to. Singing together with the Aranara, the gathering of the first Seven, memories never lucid enough for her to see in detail but the emotions. Oh the emotions she experienced then…

(...She?)

Nahida did not realize the tears dripping onto the floor until she felt a warm hand on her shoulder, startling her to reality as she watched Venti glide down and extend a hand towards her, a gentle smile on his lips as he beckoned for her:

“Come sing with me? For old times’ sake.”

Ah…How could she refuse?

With a wide grin, she took his hand and sang.

No one but the Traveler and their floating companion would be the witness to this beautiful moment shared between the two neighboring archons, the two old friends separated by time and the earth itself. 

One born of the thousands of branches of time, while the other sprouted from the purest branch of an ancient tree.

[pinkyjulien]

Valentin & Mitch | 620/?? 

He didn't really cared for his hair, or for his new scar, one more on his already fucked up side. But it was still hard to go back camp, everyone cheering, checking in... He couldn't netrunner anymore. Couldn't use his neural implant, couldn't force on his biomonitor for a while- he hated it, hated feeling useless. While Panam updated Valentin on everything that happened those past weeks, Mitch took the occasion to sneak out and shave his head. Heck, it'll grow back. He did it back when enroling for the war, with Driss. Valentin remembered it too, from the old pictures he showed him. And upon seeing him like that, Val couldn't help but burst into tears

"Hah! awh, babe, don't cry" "Whyyy, why would you- You didn't have to! I don't want you to- to see yourself like this, to get reminded-" "It's fiiine, I promise you I'm fine. I wanted to" They'll grow back together 🧡

Amazing art by friendo @_lucky_38_ 🥺💛

[insufferablemod]

jake.... ur killing me... *collapses 2 the ground*