#. nets. cages. graves :)

[telekinetiq]

If you had the chance to make a pokeball that caught humans instead, would you? Give them a taste of it and see how they like it?

he's been asked this before but i think the only difference in his response now would be he would capture humans that presented rly big threats like team bosses and such and leave them in the balls for eternity like their own personal hell. and it's travel-sized! :)

[whumperfultime]

Tarot-Inspired Whump Prompts

I'm enthusiastic about both whump and tarot and those interests were bound to collide at some point. So I wrote a list of writing prompts inspired by the Major Arcana! Five prompts for each card, so there should be something for everyone. Enjoy!

(Also, if you happen to write anything based on any of these, feel free to tag me! I'd be honored to read it.)

The Fool: Accidental whump. Misplaced trust. Leap of faith. Taking a risk. Falling from a high place.

The Magician: Magical whump. Manipulation. Mind control. A charismatic and confident character. A table full of tools for inflicting pain.

The High Priestess: Keeping secrets. Blindfolded whumpee relying on their other senses. Guarding something or someone. Intuitively noticing when something or someone has changed. Cult setting/dynamics.

The Empress: Gilded cage. Lady whump (if you're into that). Comfort in material things. Gentle caretaker. Whumpee not used to experiencing abundance and safety.

The Emperor: Strict whumper and/or strict rules. Royal whump. Wartime. Stoic leader trying to remain calm for the sake of their team. High security.

The Hierophant: Religious whump. Institutionalized whump. Punished for questioning authority. Pressure to conform. Power leading to corruption.

The Lovers: Yandere whump. Sadistic choice. Forced to watch. Protectiveness. Multiple whumpees, whumpers, caretakers, etc.

The Chariot: Car crash. On the run. Kidnapped and forced into a vehicle. Lost and stranded. Unwanted and distressing thoughts.

Strength: Whumpee turned caretaker or whumper. Monster character. Patient caretaker. Animal attack. Emotional support animal.

The Hermit: Isolation. Sensory deprivation. Neglect. Feeling like an outcast. Going into hiding.

Wheel of Fortune: Bad luck. Time heals all wounds. Long-term captivity. Painful anniversaries. Wrong place, wrong time.

Justice: Whumper being arrested. Detached/indifferent whumper or caretaker. Wrongful imprisonment. Privileges vs. punishments. Shutting off emotions so logic can take over.

The Hanged Man: Stress position. Caught in a net. Restrained and abandoned. Hanging. Standing cuffs.

Death: Grief. Recovery milestones. Immortal whumpee dying over and over. Left behind. Visiting a grave.

Temperance: Drugged whumpee. Personality changes due to trauma. Angel character. Poisoning. Mad scientist whumper.

The Devil: Demon character. Sadistic whumper. Addiction and unhealthy coping mechanisms. Pet whump. Collared.

The Tower: Building collapse. Struck by lightning. Drastic change. A character being overpowered. Shocking revelation or betrayal.

The Star: Bathing (whether this is peaceful or whumpy is up to you). Drowning. Finally being able to rest. Anything having to do with recovery. Dehydration.

The Moon: Nightmares. Lost in the woods. Werewolf character. Illusions or hallucinations. Running on pure survival instinct.

The Sun: Sunburn. Public figure whumpee. Forced to perform. First time outside after being held captive. Heatstroke.

Judgement: Revenge. Sound torture. Deity character. Punishment. Resurrected from the dead.

The World: Endings (positive or negative). Breaking the cycle of abuse. Overwhelmed by choices. Regaining personal autonomy. Closure and acceptance (or lack thereof).

[icedbatik]

From JY, after Day 1:

After referring to Ryan Graves as a "hulking defenseman," he proceeded with this:

(Graves is) listed at 6-foot-5 but he looks even bigger. (Kris) Letang, his defense partner in today’s scrimmage and his presumed partner for the start of the season, even commented that he wasn’t aware Graves was “that big.”

(Evgeni) Malkin is now aware. He was going to work against Graves during the scrimmage and decided to swing wide behind the net. Malkin then deployed one of his patented moves, shifting into skating backward behind the net in an attempt to bring the puck to the far side of the cage. Graves was having none of it, using his reach to easily pick Malkin’s pocket.

[killerpancakeburger]

Hi! I got your ask and I'll answer it soon <3 in the meantime, I was curious about

Ka-freaking-boom, baby | Pinning (against a wall) | Renegades

👀👀

The titles/descriptions are a net, and I am but a fish you caught with it

majinbangus 🥛🐟

Hiii! Tysm for the ask! 💕

For the WIP ask game.

Alright, here we gooo *rubbing hands with glee*

Ka-freaking-boom, baby

That line by Soap drove me insane, so I came up with a Reader feeling the same way lol. It's very short so I'll post it entirely here:

“Ka-freaking-boom, baby.”

The perfect mix of rasp and silk in his voice seemed to drain all the blood from your brain and send it rushing south. It was almost worse than having his fingers stroking every inch of your skin.

Before Soap had any chance to react, you dragged him away into the nearest dark alley and kissed him furiously.

A confused moan escaped him under your assault.

Once you’ve had your fill, you withdrew, glaring at him. He was panting, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, torn between bafflement and pleasure, and, a rare occurrence, at a loss for words.

“Fuck, what the fuck… was that!?” you yelled in a whisper. “Do I have to be a freaking bomb for you to talk to me like that!?”

His eyes widened even more before understanding spread across his face. A chuckle left his lips.

“Jealous o’ an explosive, hen? Yer too cute.”

Not in the mood to play around, you grabbed his flak jacket to pull him where you wanted and, lips pressed against his ear, you described all the unspeakable acts you would do to him if he used that voice back at the base.

He let out an agonized sound at that, as if you were torturing him.

“Steamin' Jesus…”

He covered the hand that was holding him in place and took a deep inhale, most likely to keep it together.

“Bonnie, love ye, but the mission…”

You aggressively shoved your index in his sternum, looking him in the eye.

“You're making it up to me later, you hear me?”

His head was swaying with the contrast between your filthy promises and your harsh gestures, but he straightened up, recognizing an order when he heard one.

“Yes Ma'am.”

Pining (against a wall)

I read a fic where in one chapter, Soap and Reader hide from enemies with Reader stuck between the wall and Soap, and our beloved sergeant gets...hum... affected by their proximity lol. So I wanted to do a version where Soap is the one pinned between Reader and the wall. It's also the same vibe as The powder and the fuse, aka Soap sees his gf in action being very badass and finds it hot. It's smut tbh, with their clothes on tho.

WIP:

"At the sight of your enemies getting closer to your location, your bodyguard training takes over. Before you can even think about it, you grab Soap by his flak jacket, drag him into a dark alley and end up half-pining, half-slamming him against the nearest wall without warning, shoving your hand over his mouth for good measure. It's a professional reflex you'll have to apologize for later.

That, and if there's one thing he's never been good at, it's keeping it shut.

Not that he ever gave you a reason to call his skills into question, always proving himself serious and reliable on the job, but missions with only the two of you together are few and far between, and he certainly never stops running his mouth over comms during them.

Wholly focused on your opponents’ behavior, head turned away from him, on the lookout, the hand on his mouth keeping him against the wall, the other by his head, caging him in, you don't pay attention to your newfound proximity. How your faces are barely a centimeter away from each other, how his warm breath strokes your skin with each respiration. You don't notice either how much you’re pressed against his body, how your chests are touching, the contact exacerbated by each inhale, or that one of your legs is nudged between his.

Or the way his cerulean eyes are devouring you, drinking in your every move."

Renegades

It's a retelling of MW2 with Shadow!Reader, from the mission Alone until Graves die. Lots of action.

Reader kills her own coworkers when they go after civilians and deserts the Shadow company. She comes to the rescue of an injured Soap in the hopes that she can ally with the TF to take down Graves.

It's called renegadeS because It's not only about Reader's treason, but also because the TF is considered treators thanks to Shepherd, and that Reader consider that Graves betrayed her for sending her after civilians when she stated from the start she wouldn’t go after unarmed ppl/civilians.

Something about having to betray either your community/organization/group, or your own moral code, but doomed to be a traitor all the same…

WIP:

"Joining the Shadow Company had never been your first choice. Military organizations tended to be bad news, and private ones were even worse. However fate forced your hand. Or, more exactly, capitalism did.

The pay offered by the Private Military Company exceeded your wildest dreams. You've made more in a week than in one year of your regular job as a bodyguard. And you were in desperate need of money; a lot, and fast; it was the only way to afford your sister's cancer treatment.

Things weren't so bad at the start. The commander was a bigmouth, but he was sensible, and he got the job done. At some point, the corporation allied with a special task force, an international group of elite combatants, some sort of legendary military unit. You hadn't paid them much attention, since they weren't the enemy.

Until they were.

Somehow the General that commanded both those guys and the Shadow Company decided to betray his own men, turning them into traitors. At the same time, your orders brutally changed. You were expected to turn the whole town upside down to pinpoint the ex-Special Forces, and if civilians happened to be in the way, well… there was no one to hold you responsible if you put a bullet in them.

You didn’t care about the Task Force. Sucked to be them, but surely they could handle themselves.

However, the moment your coworkers started to execute unarmed civilians right in front of you, you snapped.

The latters’ screams for mercy still resonate in your ears. The racket caused by the bullets you sent through your former companions in arms hadn't been enough to make you forget their bloodcurdling yells. 

You hadn't even had time to ponder your actions. Your body acted on its own. You slaughtered them without batting an eye. They probably didn’t even understand what happened to them, not expecting your betrayal. You didn’t regret it.

You hid the bodies to the best of your abilities, and slipped away.

Now here you are, lost in Las Almas, a small city in Mexico, operating in the blind. Between the dark of the night and the rain, your vision is execrable. You have little time before your ex-colleagues’ death and your disappearance get noticed. The clock is ticking, and you can see only two options presenting themselves to you: fight or flight.

You eventually stumble upon a squad of Shadows. You've been monitoring the comms, and your treason hasn’t been noticed yet. 

So, in a rush of insane hope, you do the unthinkable and reveal yourself to them.

Maybe, just maybe, not all Shadows are bloodthirsty mercenaries who shoot innocents at the first opportunity. Maybe they can be reasoned with. Maybe you don't need to fight alone. Maybe…

You salute them as you approach, acting with as much natural as you can muster.

One throws one look at you and turns away. The other two stare with curiosity.

“Whattya doing here? This isn’t your area.”

You play dumb. Easy to perform when your interlocutor is already looking down  on you. The only perk of being a woman in this field of work is idiots underestimating you.

“Lost my way. The others left me behind. Mind if I join?”

You make your tone as silly and harmless as possible, turning your voice higher pitched than normal. It works like a charm.

You put up with their mockeries that sound a lot like insults and other jeers, keeping a naive smile on your lips.

Following on their heels, it's easy to fall back into the routine that's been yours for the past few weeks, since you became a shadow. But that illusion of normality shatters the moment you come across inhabitants.

“They don't know shit,” grumbles one of the shadows, after barking orders at the civilians only leads to desperate pleas for mercy in spanish. “Might as well get rid of them.”

You stare at him with incredulity, your bewildered expression hidden by your balaclava. How could someone be so callous with human life was beyond you. Yes, you were killers for hire, but between fighting seasoned soldiers on a battlefield and slaughtering unarmed families in their own home, there was a world of difference.

“Sure,” shruggs another.

The third one doesn't even bother answering, already taking aim with his rifle.

You feel trapped in a horror movie, an alternative reality.

“That's not necessary,” you step in, loud enough to be clearly heard, but still attempting to not sound too authoritarian. “Killing them isn’t gonna give us any answer.”

“Who cares?” snarls the first one at you, irritated by your intervention. “We get a bonus for each target, it's all that matters.”

“But they're not targets,” you hiss, getting riled up despite yourself. “Is that what your morals are worth? A bunch of zeroes?”

“For the love of… knew admitting women was a bad idea. You’re too soft-hearted for this job. So either shut the fuck up, or-”

He never gets the chance to finish his sentence, as the bullet you fire lodges itself between his eyebrows.

As the other two squad members let out expletives in shock, you’re already shooting again. The one who was aiming his rifle at the denizens drops dead just as he gets you into his sights. The last one scrapes your side with his handgun before you make him join his teammates.

Panting, you lower your weapon and kick at one of the corpses in rage.

“Fuck! Why did you have to be such a rotten piece of shit!”

From the corner of your eye, you notice the group of civilians nearby shaking with fear, glancing at you with horror and uncomprehension. You sigh and tell them to leave, unable to look them in the eye, ashamed.

Once left to your own devices, you let your fury and your frustration explode.

“Shit, shit, shit! Never should have taken this fucking job!”

Overwhelmed, you crouch, covering your face with your hands, and swear some more.

“Why'd ye do that?”

The hoarse, foreign, barely audible voice coming out of nowhere makes you jump. You point your handgun in multiple directions, in vain.

“What the…?”

You cautiously inspect your surrondings, on your guard, ready to open fire at the first sight of an enemy. Eventually you find the owner of the voice, inside a nearby building, slumped against a crumbled brick wall, and immediately take aim at him. 

“Hey there.”

The salute may be casual, but his body language shows nothing but extreme vigilance and sharp suspicion, his own handgun pointed at you. The tone of his voice isn’t exactly warm either.

At the first provokation, he will swiftly end your life without any qualms.

Your eyes roam over him and, as you take in his bare face, the soaking wet blue t-shirt adhering to his skin, and jeans, you realize you're not dealing with one of Graves’ guys. The british flag displayed on his bulletproof vest silently answers your interrogations.

“You're one of those brits,” you sigh in relief.

Well, half-relief. You may not consider them your enemies anymore, but unfortunately, that doesn't mean the opposite is true.

He scoffs at your remark, apparently mildly offended.

“Scottish.”

[cheesecakeyuri]

@maopll @venusandsaturnsrings @yandere-daydreams @blackopals-world hey! I admire your writing work and fic on tumblr. I wrote this piece for a literature assignment not too long ago so I wanna know what you think as more active authors.

236,000 humans drowned this year. Do you mourn one? … I mourn all.

I’m responsible, named on the grave, cause of death: The harsh of the wave.

Is Poseidon to blame? No, it’s his wife! Amphitrite! Take note! This water is called she!

For millennia those men brave our rouges and our storms.

Millions lost yet billions borne.

Rán trawls her net over their boat thus yanking them into their final bed of rock and sand.

Ganga and Marina cry, their tears; typhoons

Eingana watches with mixed expression as she sees all her creation fight forces they can’t understand.

Mazu protects what’s hers, leaving the sanctity of her lagoon to do so.

Praised for beauty and poetry yet feared for the fact we she are of the few things one can’t command.

Those dead in deep water can’t be found.

The ocean leaves no trace, nor nothing that can save its face.

Families left, no peace for ones gone, unable to rest, it lingers in minds, a burden one cannot heal.

A wish to not be helpless, nights spent under the waves accompanied only by fish.

Over time it was a slaughter, bodies lost, souls gone, left to the sea.

What do they feel? The grains of sand or the teeth of a fish, The scales of an eel?

A body of death becomes a feature of new life.

A reef on the bones of the deceased.

The creatures do not know or care, It’s home now.

Their Thieves of remains, they desecrate the dead yet provide them purpose.

Perhaps they deserved to die? Men are not sinless creatures after all.

Especially considering how they treat us, isn’t that right Magwayen? they treat us with more than just spite!

How can they assume us to be kind when for centuries they’ve used us?

Sending fleet after fleet onto our surface and tipping their waist into our swash!

They have no right to treat us this way when the tears we cry are of the same pain

They doom our icecaps we so graciously froze just so they could come to fruition, I refuse to accept this!

How half of them refuse to take the blame while others drown

How they make shallow promises of prevention and change

yet you find those same mouths wet by lies of the above line

And those sinking cry why!

Hypocrites! all of them!

Notice how they call their most powerful, important, and feared things she!

Yet they call upon the husbands for safe passage through OUR waters!

They boast their achievements of deep-found treasure, but they turn coy at the mention of how they got there!

People are left to rot when the stem of their problems is of their own kind.

The lot of them are savage! Acting as gods pretending as if they too are not animals.

Everything in the universe is made from the same dust, and yet the humans audaciously claim they are of the most importance!

People beg us for mercy, to save them from their self-inflicted fate

They do this so much so, they forget they are the ones to blame!

We should send our rain and waves to condemn all for their ignorance!

Humans call the ocean treacherous and harsh! The foam of the waves is a sign of rough sea!

We will send raging storms, floods, tsunamis and even cause droughts!

All to make them fear us and come to terms with the fact they are ultimately powerless in the face of Mother Nature!

Mother! Not father! We will prevail in the face of man. We will leave them no time to even attend to the damage!

We will cull those who seek to conquer our home and make all who come after fear us!

Caging them inside a trap-like purgatory

They deserve it for all they’ve done to us!

The end of men! We will bring forth a matriarchy like no other!

No longer will we desire for respect and fame

Sing in Joy for the day of our redemption has come!

[garden-with-squid]

8/1/24

As I wrote this post, I discovered that my pumpkin plant was completely eaten by a squirrel and it sent me into a blind rage. Please be advised that the following post is mostly negative in tone.

I haven’t updated in a while, so here are the highlights to accentuate the positive:

The jasmine is blooming again

Cooked up some Japanese eggplant into a stir fry, I thought it was good (Michael thinks eggplant tastes like a shoe)

The kitchen basil plants are doing pretty good, growing offshoots.

Very bad news: the pumpkin plant has been COMPLETELY eaten. It was making good progress so I uncovered it and sprinkled chili powder (that was literally two days ago!) - did not work at ALL. There’s one REALLY big squirrel that’s been wreaking havoc on everything that’s not covered with netting or plastic. Goddammit. It was doing so well too. Wow I just checked it now and that REALLY pisses me off.

I could just keep things netted and caged off but it’s so hard to get into the garden and I hate looking at haphazard nets, and some plants need insects to pollinate. What the actual fuck do I do.

I am 100% on board with squirrel murder now. I swear to god if Michael ever gets that fat fuck, I’ll set up a grave just so I can dance on it.

I have been pretty discouraged this year - last years harvests were much better. No peppers and maybe a handful of cherry tomatoes. I’m still not watering and fertilizing enough. And I’ve finally had it with these goddamn squirrels. So spring was pretty alright this year but summer’s been a wash.

I should just say fuck summer and focus intensely on the fall garden at this point. Cover crop everything, cover everything in compost, pull out everything that I hate and cut my losses.

I have this weird hesitation around buying plants from the nursery. It feels like cheating, like I should start everything from seed or keep plants alive all season. Plus it’s expensive. But gardens I see online stay lush because they’re constantly sowing, growing, or replacing plants throughout the season, and I can’t expect some plants to look fresh and young forever.

I got some extra cash so I went to the Armstrong and bought myself some plants - lavender, another tomatillo, zinnias and cosmos. Michael asked for rosemary and snake plants, so we have those inside now.

How am I this bad at this??? Like, I actually feel like I’m doing a TERRIBLE job. Like the results I want demand way more effort than I provide. Like everything is TRYING to die. I feel like it’s all my own fault for not doing everything right. I really fucking hate summer now - friendship ended with summer, now spring is my best friend.

Maybe summer should be my off season - focus mostly on spring, just keep a few key plants that I want to harvest for summer, and cover crop everything else because this is so much bullshit to deal with. Spring and fall were significantly easier to deal with here. I am so pissed. Hate hate pain rage bloodlust rage

[nixalegos]

Boggled in a Bog

Continuation from HERE "Hithril, was it? No surname? No heraldry? That's almost refreshing." He said as he hefted the cast iron and gripped it near the end of its length the wrong way, and started to pull it away from himself. Symbols, runes, shapes of strange and unfamiliar magics ignited along the iron. Some so close to be recognizable, but all of them harsh, hateful shapes. As soon as the rod was filly lit up he turned it with a flourish and then with the hissing pishaw of pneumatic assistance, drove the rod into the watery muck. Nothing happened as he let go and took a step back to look at her. "Did you come here by portal, or are you a native to this place?" He asked as the clear and empty sky peeled with a thundercrack. Lighting struck the wrong way. Not from sky to ground, but the other way around. The spark of the divine turned around leap from that rod straight up, its coloration wrong, a blaring foul green, arcing its way up over the treeline and cascading out. From where they stood she could see other streaks of unnatural power reaching to join in six different directions with them at the center. Like a net, or a circus tent made of non-linear patterns of current and field. Once it was formed and seemingly stable, that current feed back into itself, and down. The lighting reached and snaked into the ground, like the stories of mad science gone horribly right. The lighting moved as if alive, arcing down into the soil, the muck, and what it touched, moved. The loops and coils reaching farther was too strong, igniting gnats and moths and flittering jittering bugs like signal sparks simply for passing by. A circuit that was overloaded and overheating. The bodies of toads and frogs long since passed burst from the wet peat with open leathery mouths, their tongues consumed by emerald fire before it spread to the rest of their diminutive bodies. Forceful resurrection by immolation and desecration. There, something larger, a badger with no arm flopped up with no fur, its teeth missing before the flames spread over it. All over, the cycle of life was taken, wrested back, and its neck snapped in favor of the warlocks desire for efficiency. And efficient it was, the huge area his lighting cage had cast over had struck paydirt only a dozen feet away from her. A head gasping with escaping gases lurched up. Followed closely by something even larger. A horses head. The dead and its rider tried in vain to obey the magic sizzle snapping in their bones, that forced unmoving ligaments to snap and flex again. Most of the chain lighting now curling in their paths to this point of larger resistance, colliding and burning the preserved flesh with bullet holes as it poured into them both. And then, as soon as the macabe ritual started, the looping arcs of fel lighting stopped, the bodies of the bog, the dozens of critters, the handfuls of beasts, and the victims too, were allowed to rest once more, collapsed ontop their own dug open watery graves. The lighting cage above them had discharged to nothing, only the scent of sulfur and brimstone hung heavier then the mist had been when he'd started, and he made his way closer towards them. The iron rod he'd used had melted under the weight of the ritual, slagged and steaming. "I'm from Azeroth, are you familiar with the realm at all?" He said casually, as if the barbaric act of violence against the cycle was totally dismissible and barely worth mentioning. @ramblingsofamoonwatcher

[libidomechanica]

Untitled (“Driving loneliness”)

Its calm, to the un-apple.     Their heads I saw the heart of you and calumets, claymore     and armor should ape those hill-side—and caught with these effects,     to pleased by channels the sea-snakes upon sands a gloom, why     mandolin. We did not

sweet enforcement of studies artful     hour laughter: round, his part, though in my ioy, faire Daphnes     crown to those, that sport is the sea-stocks blood the while their past     kisses blow, set with lyrical beauty’s sovereign balm derive,     that thick-leaved platans

of love, I know these hills whose     godly labours doe only for such one dozen new men     and earn our lives. First that’s for love me! Then if with such gloom;     up the warm until the year’s first and damns me foresaw how     frivolous a baby

man he lay;—his destinies by     sweets that keeps vigil like a clouds in the dead. When all his     revere: imaginary swoon, grave, myself to clear of     deed, fortune Allah; unto his Hand—pray’d—his Arrow eyes     can choose to oblivion

yield us farther night. Come,     my joy, from heaven: so flatter of that if reveale.     When they call forget his letchery being full nie, that     bold indeed, fortune Allah; unto his false love in shade     of love: from cause I have

me like delivers his faire Venus     hath brooms, we did—was the perhaps when your Suppliants plainest     Gothic light, sooner will not combat, but I an eagle     to proue. Me, dear Love, be the same stray: and clear that good     backe, and luminous

windowy net. A slight of that wretch!     To hang in their time had climb’d on poisoned balloons. Therefore     and decided to bite the trees. Was well—but tis my business,     and dew upon it and Tamburins forgot how the     fond eye. The belt. The birds

say? And in his faire when the ages,     which the bang’d by elves, this loved among us, if here     music’s cage, who take the east. Now that named. Speak with than that     lies broke me with reason at dawn pushing his woe. Made someone     hundred favorite aggies.

We only beauty of silks     are nouells of my mind. When it could one undo his Generation     to admonitions stay; you go—call now the way     to mine hert’s forever. That Dervish-dances without objects     that woman, so sweetly

single act of immolation     is mellow; come afterimage of regret—no major     tension made a fall a small happier, bed by his     brows. Of humanity,— and feel not remember your old     and send up holy Angels

to a mother’s peppered like     tears suddenly a harmonies of you men have me thou     pype began retreating my lay, instead, and wrung his ivied     nook glow like curious Trophies free, and burn, I burn,     I burn, arms with slaughter’s

tale? Come to time, something is her     walls She hell it with accomplished bee: but little goodman     on the cool and for her proof that seemed to form containing     on your leg, an infinitely distance like tumble, Vulcans,     on there is nearer

he’s a-getting in the mind, through     the faint Olympians, I see them from dim rich of old     fell down where though it: came the towers built house, whom the mind     stinging sent out. Triumph, being ball, and then in my arms     fully dress with his shield—

and grass, and pains; in the muscles     of the eldest. Driving loneliness from your meant; my grief,     and Virgins on the large trees, that his force oppose, a sea     of sorrows longing, not give their eyes full of the patience     with the thick with them last.

[ak4rin]

"what's wrong? you're never up this late." // to curse user akari!

they say home is the first grave yet it doesn't hold a candle to the mausoleum built throughout the years with her own hands - everything in the penthouse she owns thanks to the help of her side activities reminds akari of how she never truly left the golden cage that her childhood home used to be, it just changed form a little the same way she did. underneath this aura of fanciness there's actually nothing. "uh?" suguru's voice brings pause to her thoughts, thin white lines on the coffee table put on hold for a moment. "wrong number," by a mile too, but whatever. "do you think they despise us?" she asks then, a pause and a loud snort before leaning back on the couch, phone in hand with call on speaker as she begins to aimlessly scroll on the first social that comes to sight.

"the people we know, i mean." it feels superfluous to mention it, but then again akari can tell there are layers to this question - it's always a specific person in mind ... at least for her. "how do you explain to a kid that even though what you're doing might not make sense now it will in the future?" geto's got kids, she figures getting an advice from him might be better than trauma dumping on whatever poor soul she was meant to call instead. "i don't want my little brother to hate me." not when everything she does is for his future. another pause, frustrated sigh leaving her lips. "on a less depressing note, my wanted photo on that dark net website looks so good, i need details on their photographers."

[thraveenperera]

Drake - Sticky - Honestly, Nevermind (2022)

Ayy

Homer hangin' on my neck

The bracelet matches the set

My brother named his ting Nadal

Let's stop all that back and forth over the net

My mama wish I woulda went corporate

She wish I woulda went exec'

I still turn to a CEO

So the lifestyle she respect

Ayy, two Sprinters to Quebec

Chérie, où est mon bec?

They only givin' n****s plus ones

So I never pull up to the Met

You know I gotta bring the set

You know I gotta bring the G-Block

You know I gotta bring the D-Block

'Cause you know how sticky it get, ayy

You know how sticky it get, ayy

You know how sticky it get, ayy

You know how sticky it get, ayy

She want me to play with that cat, ayy

She lovin' how I'm makin' her wet, ayy

You know how sticky it get, ayy

Ayo Eric, bring them girls to the stage

'Cause somebody's gettin' paid and

Free Big Slime out the cage and

Shawty try to play it cool but

Now she wish she woulda stayed 'cause

Every song that I made is

Ringin' like I got engaged, yeah

Love my guys, I wouldn't trade, ayy

From the cradle to the grave, ayy

Gordo got me on the wave, ayy

Ant got me on the wave, ayy

Couple hits, now you brave, what

You n****s better behave, what

All that pumpin' up your chest, what

All that talk about the best, what

You know how sticky it gets

Yeah

If I'm with two of 'em, then it's a threesome

If she alone, you know she a freak one

If it's a escort, it's a police one

King of the hill, you know it's a steep one

If we together, you know it's a brief one

Back in the ocean you go, it's a

It's a deep one

Forgave n****s in they feelings

Lucky for y'all, we don't do civilians

You say I changed, I say that I million

I did

The toughest act to follow's back on tour

Off-road Maybach, Pyrex trap

Virgil came back through the boy, damn

That's somethin' to me, n****s really had they back turned to me

I ain't talkin' my assistant

When I say n****s down to pack somethin' for me

Then they thought they had the trap set for me

How you really think that went for me?

N****s gotta do a fact check for me

When everything is put to rest

And everybody takes a breath

And everything gets addressed

It's you alone with your regrets

All that pumpin' up your chest

All that talk about the best

You know how sticky it gets

Like, we weren't supposed to come up with something this clean

You know it's, like, something happened

[dismantlingtheheart]

We used to be.

Criss crossed

Paths.

Winding together.

Maybe you were bored.

My intrigue a cage for intimacy.

We used to be

A shoulder.

An ear.

An awkward possibility.

Friendships,

And love ships.

Sometimes,

They beach.

Or start remembering home

In thier bones.

Set sail with sunsets,

Unannounced.

Leaving me with my feet

Dug deep in the sand.

A slow wave, goodbye.

But im pretty sure you were looking ahead.

Not behind.

Ghost waves,

Are lonely, owls.

We carry them.

Belonging, moored

To the slow distance.

Time is a slippery fish

And we are fishermen,

Without nets

But plenty of bate.

I can remember a thousand

Intimate moments.

Wondering who will leave

Letters of love

At my grave.

Who are my dirt soiled knees,

My salty cheeks, my grieving sun beams, my timeless regrets?

I hold close those that scamper off the beaten track to my door

With nothing more than time spent

In each others company.

dOgMoOn

[ofourmaker]

Herons flocked as was not their wont, the vultures of the great serpent's carcass. Wheeling circles of tortoise-scaled belly ridged with woodish sails, the mesh of bars and nets that cored the cage brought dew to the harsh lines, whither the flock was gathered. An errant ripple peeled from the face of the hanging, and left a patch dry and dripping in the face of the wind, the cold wind from the cup.

Drained to the brim, the circling body or plurality, grave forms erect within the measured beat and cycle of tension and key. Grave forms fall in sweat from the swarty twisted twining, crushed by the cold wind in the binding of the circles. The sail ridge flaps calmly, and says nothing at all.

2023/03/08 #DailyWrittenOOM

[dreamerking27]

Okay I looked at my pantheon list and it's actually Heart. Here's my pantheon btw, feel free to ask me about any of them:

Photon

Deity of Creation: Light/Forge domains

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Symbol(s): glowing circles

Cryptid Form: a Tiny being of pure light

The most devoted worshippers believe that the entire universe is a record of Photon's travels over time. He makes up all of existence. More casual worshippers believe that he started the universe but is not everything that ever was or will be.

Monarch

Deity of Transformation and Rebirth: Life/Death/Grave domains

Alignment: True Neutral

Symbol(s): butterflies

Cryptid form: Mothman but with butterfly wings

Hearth

Deity of Solace: Nature/Peace domains

Alignment: Neutral Good

Symbols: fire, smoke, bears

Cryptid form: fire wreathed in smoke in the shape of a bear

Priests take in lost children

Gavel

Deity of Power: War/Order domains

Alignment: Lawful Evil

Symbols: hammers, cages

Cryptid Form: a judge in robes made of metal mesh

Breeze

Deity of Misfortune: Tempest/Nature domains

Alignment: Neutral Evil

Symbols: dice, cards, fallen leaves

Cryptid form: a wind that speaks

There are several different kinds of worshippers of this deity. The most common are those who believe that worshipping him will prevent them from being hurt by them. Some call on them to fight their enemies. Finally, the third group genuinely believes in him and wants him to be present in their lives.

Cover

Deity of Rest: Grave/Peace domains

Alignment: Lawful Good

Symbol(s): blankets, white flowers

Cryptid Form: a carnation the size and texture of a pillow

Preists are therapists

Void

Deity of Terror: Twilight/Trickery domains

Alignment: Chaotic Evil

Symbol(s): none

Cryptid Form: a horse-shaped emptiness

Blueprint

Deity of Intelligence: Knowledge/Forge domains

Alignment: Lawful Neutral

Symbol(s): grids, rulers and other instruments of measurement

Cryptid Form: 2 dimensional humanoid, body blue, all features as white lines

Constellation

Deity of Magic: Arcana/Twilight domains

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Symbol(s): eight-pointed star

Cryptid form: navy spiderdog with white spots

Net

Deity of Security: Life/Peace domains

Alignment: chaotic means for lawful ends

Cryptid form: water bubbles shaped like a net

I'd like to request that you write a bit of Freeze plot for WIP Wednesday please

Okay I don’t think any of my players follow me if you do uhhh stop reading

There’s a kid named Nothing. Vod was raised in the cult of the void. Vod left that but vod still worships Void, vod is just not living with vod’s family anymore. Vod instead lives in a temple to one of the other gods (I don’t have my pantheon list right now but probably Cover?) that takes in lost kids and raises them. Vod likes big open spaces which is where the priest of Cover found vod. Vod is a pact of the emptiness warlock (homebrew) and vod’s emptiness is the sky. The sky liked vod because vod is good at being practically nonexistent.

[minty-mumbles]

Fanfiction Masterpost

I'll be updating this periodically, as I post new fics.

Whumptober 2021 Masterpost - (AO3)

Whumptober 2022 Masterpost - (AO3)

Collection of Drabbles/Snippets that don't make it onto this masterpost

Linked Universe Fics

Delirium - (AO3) - Wild gets sick, and Time and Twilight have to deal with his fevered delusions. No one has a good time.

True Colors - (AO3) - Monsters assume that Hylians operate under the same color system as they do. They're not exactly wrong.

Sunkissed Scales - (AO3) - The last thing Time expected to do today was meet a Siren that got caught up in the fishing nets. Unfortunately for him, that was exactly what happened.

Foundlings - (AO3) - What if the Links weren't born? What if they just... appeared one day?

To Honor, In Ink - (AO3) - Art - Art - While the chain is staying in the Karakara Bazaar, Wild heads off to Gerudo town for the day. He comes back sporting a new tattoo.

Stand Not at My Grave and Weep - (First Chapter | Last Chapter) - (AO3) - Art - Sky has prophetic visions, and something's wrong with Wild.

Left Behind (Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3) - (AO3) - Wind is hurt by the people closest to him

Winged Wonder, Feathered Freak (First Chapter | Last Chapter | Lore Dump) - (AO3) - Wild’s best kept secret comes out. He runs.

From the Open Seas, to Dark Tangled Depths (Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3) - (AO3) - Hylian Wind finds himself in the middle of the property of a group of faes.

From the Outside In (Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3) - (AO3) - A series of short unconnected fics, exploring the chain from various outsider's perspectives.

Honor in the Braids - (AO3) - Everyone keeps their hair long in Wild’s Hyrule. Everyone braids their hair in Wild’s Hyrule. Everyone except Wild.

Here There Be Monsters AU:

Caged Animals - (AO3) - Twilight and Warriors go hunting on the night of the full moon. Unfortunately. they're not the only ones out hunting tonight.

Sight Unseen - (AO3) - Wind is having some ghostly problems. Thankfully, he has his friends to help him out.

Sleepover - (AO3) - Wind gets a late night Visitor, and Wild gets some answers.

Flowers and Fountains AU:

Night Watch - (AO3) - Hyrule has a little secret he uses to help out his fellow heroes.

Meeting Family - (AO3) - Art - Hyrule meets some distant relatives in Wild's era.

Red Verbena - (AO3) - Fairy Hyrule eats something he's not supposed to

General LOZ Fics

One Last Journey - (AO3) - Link goes on one last journey around Hyrule

Holy Warrior - (AO3) - Link is a fallen angel, although perhaps fallen isn't quite the right word for it.

The Becoming of a God - (AO3) - Art - Gods are formed form belief. Many people believe in the Hero of the Wilds.

[poetrywillsaveme]

“all things human take time, time which the damned never have, time for life to repair at least the worst of its wounds; it took time to wake, time for horror to incite revolt, time for the recovery of lucidity and will. (...) In the mass graves, a woman’s hand caged in the ribs of her child a single stone in Spain beneath olives, in Germany the silent windy fields, in the Soviet Union where the snow is scarred with wire, in Salvador where the blood will never soak into the ground, everywhere and always go after that which is lost. There is a cyclone fence between ouselves and the slaughter and behind it we hover in a calm protected world like netted fish, exactly like netted fish. It is either the beginning or the end of the world, and the choice is ourselves or nothing. ”

from ‘Ourselves or Nothing’  in The Country Between Us by Carolyn Forché      

[beautifulterriblequeen]

Are there any viren/harrow hints in book 2 novel?

Only in a Xue Yang/Xiao Xingchen way, anon. If you were hoping for a Yes, and you don't want to read my angsty breakdown of this comparison, then off you go, and have a lovely day.

I did break it down though, because I've been on a "Viren is at least two horrible characters in MDZS" kick for like a week now. One of those characters is Xue Yang, the terrifyingly charming narcissistic psychopath.

Spoilers for MDZS below.

If you aren't familiar with MDZS, this relationship between Xue Yang and Xiao Xingchen is a dark mirror of the main pairing, Lan Zhan/Wei Ying, in which the primary emotion is a manipulative, possessive kind of love instead of a supportive and mutual one.

Xue Yang insinuates himself into an existing close relationship between a man wearing a blindfold (because he's blind, but *coughLadyJusticecough*) and the person he cares for most in the world: Song Lan, a gentle warrior, to whom he donated his eyes. And when Song Lan gets too close to interfering in what Xue Yang has--a protected place in Xiao Xingchen's home and feels, obtained and maintained by a constant stream of emotional manipulation--he tricks Xiao Xingchen--and his magic sword--into thinking Song Lan is an undead monster so he'll murder him and think it's honorable and good.

His victory is short-lived when Xiao Xingchen challenges his actions, and he resurrects Song Lan to defend him. Xiao Xingchen immediately recognizes the corpse's fighting style, and Xue Yang taunts him with the truth: Xiao Xingchen is responsible for Song Lan's death--he killed the person he loved most in the world. In utter despair, Xiao Xingchen takes his own life and his soul shatters. And then Xue Yang gathers it up in a soul-trapping bag and keeps it. When Wei Ying comes to the city, Xue Yang demands that he restore Xiao Xingchen's soul for him. He truly doesn't understand what a love between equals means. And he doesn't care that he's clearly a third wheel clinging to the outside of an existing pair who loved and trusted each other before he even showed up. He doesn't respect anyone's wishes but his own. He just wants to possess and control Xiao Xingchen again, and he'll demand that Wei Ying rip him back from the grave to do it if that's what it takes.

Picture that kind of person glomming on to the relationship that Harrow and Sarai shared, and consider that in some ways the same kinds of things happened to them, too: Harrow chooses the blindfold, while Sarai seems to see clearly. Sarai's death was really convenient for Viren's status at Harrow's side. And Harrow did get Sarai killed, since he ordered the mission as the highest authority in the land. Also, Viren does have a habit of carrying souls in a bag and acting like he deserves to possess them.

Virrow has a lot of takes on it. This is what I see, though: a one-sided, toxic relationship where one man's inability to grasp the concept of another person's boundaries leads to tragedy after tragedy and gets everyone killed.

*looks at MDZS, looks at TDP* It's the same picture.

My take on Book Two: Sky's chapter 2 is that Viren holds no regrets for betraying Harrow. He did it the night Runaan killed him, and he did it again when he walked into the battle-wrecked room a week later and stole from his dead best friend so he could further his plans for war. He believes he's the smartest guy in any room, and therefore the rightest, and though he'll be sad that those closest to him don't agree, he won't change his mind for them. He'll just get tricky about what he wants and how to go about getting it.

The only thing Viren seems to regret in that scene is that he failed to be persuasive enough to convince Harrow to go along with the soulfang plan, and as a result, he lost his security blanket, his safety net, his biddable king. He doesn't feel safe without the protection of someone powerful, and so he's got to find some power of his own real fast. He steals Harrow's seal and he never looks back.

A mystery, though: Viren apparently didn't know (or care) where Pip was until he saw him there in Harrow's chamber, a week after Harrow died. Why is Pip alone in a cage in a battle-torn room? Is someone feeding him? Hiding him? What's going on with the bird?

Seems to me, if you really loved someone and they died, you'd look after their favorite pet, even if you don't like bird poop and avoid the rookery. At the very very least, you'd ask someone like Crow Lord to do it, because he's familiar with bird stuff. C'mon, Viren, geez.