#And it breaks when it hits the ground

[ducksbyday]

The fall of Stratos

Tw// injury, death (dw, it's minecraft :])

The concept of esmp s2 Joel almost dying in battle with an old familiar face.

While he fights for his life, the other emperors are none the wiser. It's only until the fountain in Critter City starts desperately spitting out wine, turning the water a deep crimson, that Lizzie realises something is off.

And It's only until Scott of Chromia hears a rumble and when looking up he sees the Eye of Stratos tumble out of the sky, distroying a gigantic part of Lower Stratos and taking many citizen down with it, that he realises something is deeply wrong.

And when the stalactites fall from the cave ceiling in Gobland and Head of Gobland hastily escorts his companions outside, that he notices the dust rising up from the neighboring kingdom.

There's no one in Sanctuary. Except for Joel. The protector of this place has long been banished from the realm, and only a shadow of him remains.

Joel watched as the shadow dissapears, axe abandoned deeply inside the (former) God's chest.

Perhaps, with the last power he had, he'd crawl towards the ocean. Maybe he'd stare into the deep blue and smile has he realises he might finally go home.

The emperors would be none the wiser, because when they evantually got there, there was no God to be found.

[introspectivememories]

roger who's nickname for buggy was "junebug" cause they found him in june and his hair is the same color.... buggy who hates it at first until he's climbing into his captain's bed at night bc of a nightmare and his captain says ever so softly, "oh junebug, c'mere"..... the nickname getting adopted by everyone on the crew until nobody calls him buggy anymore..... them meeting up with thr whitebeard pirates and getting irrationally jealous when the whitebeards use the nickname bc that's their nickname and who the fuck do these people think they are getting so close to their junebug.... rouge who has never met buggy calling him junebug in her head.... roger whose last words to buggy that fateful day before loguetown was "you shine like the sun, junebug. never stop"..... buggy who waits for years after the execution for a call from one of his former crew members, hoping every time the den-den one day it'll be rayleigh or seagull or gaban or sunbell on the other side with a familiar "hey junebug", except no one ever calls and the years go by and buggy slowly learns to stop waits, and gives on being the roger's junebug and learns how to be buggy the clown, buggy the genius jester, buggy the immortal, everything and anything other than junebug

[thebirdandhersong]

lads it is mostly my fault (was sick, didn't tell healthcare until it was Dire, was sentenced to bed rest for the rest of my time at camp) that I literally can't say goodbye to these 100+ people I've come to love properly before I leave. I'm not permitted to participate in any singing, dancing, communal joy, any event that's remotely fun (that's nearly word for word what they said) here at camp. and I'm leaving EARLY, am still miserably sick, and have a four hour commute back home on top of that, because there's no one available to drive. literally cried my eyes out over everything just now and am This Close to crying my eyes out againnnnn

[ohhcinnybuns]

In the darkest of night with frights to test your might, I come to you with the most vast sight. It is a collection of words meant to hit close to home, and I leave it in your hands, for I trust that you already know.

‘  i don’t care if you say my name like it’s poison or like it’s a prayer,  as long as it leaves your lips.  ’ + skk ❤

This one had me thinking for a very long while... and it also had me in my feelings...

But I chose to use this prompt for our beautiful Snowzai. I'll likely keep it and re-work a little later. (T/W: A bitten apple).

Chuuya glances around himself, his body floating in an endless horizon of darkness. Void. Empty. Nothing. 

He hovers, wondering what to do, but when nothing comes to mind, he drifts towards nothing, wishing for some life, a sign that will pull him away from this monotoned galaxy to somewhere new. 

His dreams were never this empty or grayscale, with nowhere to go. There was an unsettling quiet, only his breathing reminding him that he was alive. He stops to look behind, phases of himself following his hovering body in a zig-zag pattern: his brows furrow, lips in a tight line. He felt lost. 

He continues in no direction, yet in every direction, pondering why it leads nowhere and why this dream has yet to bring him home. In every other dream he has had, he’s always within the walls of his castles, the chandeliers lit down the hallways and the tapestries unsettled, pristine, and vivid. He always hears the voice of his loved one singing to him to find him through the ample, golden picture-framed walls that splash the corridors, and yet, it was the most silent it’s ever been before he turned fifteen.

Finally, after hovering in the abyss of nothingness for a while, he hits something cold, his instincts startling awake as he reaches for the sword at his hip. Nothing reaches back to fist him by his shirt, so he knows that whatever he collided with isn’t malicious. He sheaths his sword, curiosity getting the best of him.

His fingers come up before him, reaching into the dark, activating a small object that reflects his face at him with a subtle glow. He holds it gently, fingers skimming the intricate floral metal art that houses his reflection within. However, it does not remain small for long. The object grows… and grows, out of his hands and into its oval shape stretching towards an invisible heaven. It towers over him, imposing an ominous, poisonous aura and crackling with blue whips of power as if lightning had struck from the heavens and conducted into the glass.  

‘A… mirror?’ he gasps, the realization that his floating body remained reflected at him. The mirror shines again, a bright light emitting and retreating the darkness behind its blinding light, making Chuuya shield his eyes and look away.  It only lasts a few seconds. 

The mirror dims slightly, and subtle raindrops echo into Chuuya’s ears, making him perk and glance at the mirror again. Before he knows it, a tilted tower with a lit glow comes into view in the vast expanse of itself. 

Chuuya's jaw drops as the mirror reflects at him, himself, wearing his knightly armor for battle - one that Chuuya had yet to wear, with a cape and a helmet in the shape of a sheep’s skull to exemplify his royal position. He had never thought he would need it, yet this was him - staring back at him. He eyes the reflection suspiciously. 

Chuuya, in the mirror, remains by a doorway in the tilted tower with a crumbling expression - eyes wide in disbelief, brimming with tears, skin glowing, and hair sticking to his nape from sweat building on his brow. The rain that falls outside mutes the world around him; not even the creaky window pane threatening to fall from its hinges with its excruciating squeak can wake him from his senses. 

“What is… this?” Chuuya mumbles quietly. 

Watching himself through this out-of-body experience felt like a kick to his stomach. The ether suddenly suffocates him, and his his hands ball into fists at his sides. He had never seen this expression on himself. He was sure he had never made such a face before, and the only person he could think of who could make him look and feel this way was…

The mirror carefully followed Chuuya’s movements and remained steady on his features and nothing else. The Chuuya, in the mirror, steps carefully through the room, treading overthrown and scattered objects: clothing ripped and tossed aside like it had known war with itself, mirror fragments broken and shattered like puzzle pieces, and a bitten, red apple lying passively on its side and just out of reach.

As if finally reaching where he needed to be, he heard his voice speak through the mirror - the one confirmation he did not need to hear. 

“Da…zai…,” comes his faint voice. 

Chuuya couldn’t take it. The mirror did not show anything beyond what it wanted to show him. He places a hand on the mirror, his heart hammering against his chest at the sound of his lover’s name, wanting to clutch at something to hold him steady in the void. So, he leans against the cold glass, breath caught in his throat as he processes the name. His insides begin to churn. “Da...zai?”

“No…” echoes the voice in the mirror, trailing off as if feeling his other self caving into himself. “Don’t tell me… Hey, this isn’t funny, Dazai. If you're playing, wake up now…” he says hoarsely, but no happy lilt or chuckle is heard within the room. He tries again, a little more forceful this time. 

“I’m being serious, Dazai. Wake up right now. I’m not carrying you down the tower if you don’t wake up,” he says in a quivering voice, but still, the deafening silence remains the same. Thunder strikes and the patter of falling drops rings against the drooping shingles of the exterior - the turmoil of the outside resonating with his insides.

Chuuya whimpers, a gloved hand clasping his mouth, his eyes tight while he shakes his head and bites his lip, refusing to believe what is just out of sight. He bites down rough, features forming into a frown. He needed to feel something else, anything else than the emotional pain he was smothered in. His chest constricted, dread seeping into his orifices and muting his lips closed for a long time.

It took him a while to move again, as if having accepted defeat. “Dazai, I...” Chuuya starts again quietly, his armor clinking as he falls to his knee beside a bed with ratty sheets and mud; what was once ivory is now stained in disgusting brown streaks, destroying their once luxurious threads. Chuuya gulps through the words unevenly, and suddenly, a limp bandaged arm falls into the frame.

"..."

“I didn’t care if you said my name like it was poison or a prayer, as long as you said it…As long as I could… hear your voice and your dumb laugh every time,” Chuuya says through clenched jaws, voice shaking as his trembling hands remove his gloves. He reaches out, sweaty palms holding cold, pale fingers limply clasped against his own- immune to his touch, words, and warmth. 

“You would… call my name every time you needed me… remember?” he whispers behind brimming tears, hoping for an answer within the stillness of a dimly lit tower, yet no answer of comfort came. All he could hear was himself, the rattling of an unhinged creaking window panel, and the howling winds that roared ferociously against a crumbling tower. 

“Did you call for me… this time, too…?" Waves of devastation washed over him as he glanced at his beloved's resting face.

Finally, the mirror shows a fair prince lying on a messy bed, their head slightly tilted to one side, with their eyes closed peacefully. Their hair sprawled idly around them, curls falling over his eyes to shield them from the candle's glow.

Yes, they were at peace. 

At least, that's what he told himself; that's what he wanted to believe. He tried to think that the apple he had eaten was as sweet as his nature, kind and warm, and not one that took him away from Chuuya with one bite. The same face that not long ago graced him with bright smiles and laughs. The same love that sought him when they were scared during storms or in need of comfort through his nightmares; the same being that taught him many 'firsts’ and wrote him poetry through midnight letters from sunrise to sundown—the man who held his heart's affection. 

Chuuya was too late…Just a little too late.

Chuuya holds his lover’s hand a little tighter, leaning in to touch their foreheads together, brushing aside strands of brown curls that frame their resting features. His ocean eyes brim heavily, streaks finally running down his face as he struggles to keep it together. 

“I can’t… Dazai, I can’t. Just please… once more, let me hear it... Let me hear you say my name. Just let me hear you, yeah? Wake up…won’t you? Wake up… damn…it, Dazai.”

He couldn't stop the sobs that managed to rip through his throat, his hand coming to his mouth to quiet himself in silent grief. His form shakes, choking back the sobs that break his heart before a scream rips through him into the night in a plea of desperation. 

- - - - - - - -

Wake up…wake up….Chuuya!

Cerulean orbs spring open, his body pulling itself up from his bed, gasping for air filling like it has not known oxygen beneath a casket. His breath shakes, his lip quivering with beads of sweat forming on his brow. The remnants of a nightmare made his mind uneasy, shadows of void still in his vision. He slowly lifts a trembling hand to see it quivering, palm spread open, remembering the chill that crept down his spine as he held tightly the lifeless body he was pleading back to life. 

‘A nightmare…No, a premonition…?’ He tries to steady himself, inhaling and exhaling, eyes closing and feeling the sting of tears shed on his lashes. They must have fallen in his sleep.

“Chuu…ya?”

Chuuya’s breath hitches, and his eyes snap open once more when a warm touch slides down his arm, and pale, slender fingers slide into his hands to lock with his own. Chuuya’s gaze drifts slowly to the one sitting next to him, a look of worry and turmoil in their caramel orbs. 

His lover’s hair is messy from tossing and turning, and their bodies tense beneath the sheets.

“Chuuya…you’re…” the other man seems to start, gaze searching all of Chuuya’s features for a clue as to what was wrong. Dazai must notice the tears that stain his lover's face as a softness takes over his gaze.

“Dazai!” Chuuya gasps, leaning toward the other and embracing them in a tight hug, exhaling in relief.

It was cruel. It was cruel that he had to witness something so unfair in his sleep. To feel the warmth in the embrace felt almost too surreal, and Chuuya’s trembling does not stop. 

His breath shakes against the other’s neck, and his hands pull in his saving grace.  

“I thought…” I thought I had lost you, was what he had wanted to say, but in truth, he could not bear to remember the vivid imagery that now plagued his consciousness. So he opts to hold it together instead, inhaling deeply to calm his nerves.

“I had a nightmare,” he says quietly, eyes becoming foggy sea trenches again. 

“Do you… want to talk about it?” 

Chuuya could not tell them. Chuuya could not tell them that this sensation of grief had now embedded into his bones and in the recesses of his mind. Premonitions were not ones to talk about unless they became true, and sometimes, if fate was unkind, they came true anyway. 

“I don’t…” Chuuya says, slowly letting go and gazing into his lover’s eyes. He would take this chance to be present and push aside the terror, and love him, feel him, and breathe him.

A gentle hand caresses Dazai's lips, shushing him from following with any more inquiries. The faint glow of the candle on the nightstand masked their worries with cryptic shadows and hanging confusion, but not enough to stir each other away. Vulnerability to each other has always been a weakness, and the pull that brings them closer, makes Chuuya feel like everything is going to be okay.

It was like words didn’t need to be spoken between them. His lover’s lips meet Chuuya's own, soft and gentle, too afraid that the man before him might crumble, and Chuuya feels like he might. The kiss doesn’t deepen but remains slow, gentle brushes of lips and quivering breaths mingling, exchanging silent phrases of ‘I’m here, you’re okay’ and ‘I love you’.

Their heartbeats beat together in the night, under one blanket and a shared bed, telling their story and love without any more deep words needing to be shared. If there was one thing Chuuya could promise after this night, the terror of realizing that whom he cherishes the most could be taken away from him, time fleeting beneath his nose, is that he would never let harm come to his lover.

If this premonition was a sign to warn him of what was to come by the gods in the heavens, he'd be careful. And he'll be ready. The art that inspired it... May we all mourn for our beloved.

[poisonousquinzel]

sweetie im so sorry you're not being allowed to flourish in live action and kill that damned clown, they don't deserve you

[winged-mammal]

I’d heard that all three endings made it clear that aloy was in fact a gay disaster over seyka regardless of your choice, but I hadn’t seen them yet. so naturally when I finished burning shores on ultra hard tonight (go me!), I recorded all three of them.

“I’m not ready for this” (brain) starts at 1:55, “this is too much for me” (fist) starts at 4:12, and “yes, I do” (heart) starts at 6:15

my gay thoughts:

I was not prepared for the “I’m not ready for this” option to be even gayer than the heart/kiss option, but she managed it!!! even the “this is too much for me” scene was, in fact, very gay. I was Not misled.

very juicy character stuff too

not gay but: “for two years my life has been...” ty aloy for clarifying the timeline for me

just prior to the hug in the "I’m not ready for this” scene, when seyka says “I’ll miss you, aloy,” they’re standing pretty close and seyka seems to be thinking about getting that bittersweet smooch anyway:

but after the “I’ll miss you, aloy” prior to the hug in the “this is too much for me” scene, they’re further apart and seyka is *not* contemplating going for it:

but the hug itself is the same in both of those scenes:

and of course the hug at the end of the heart option is much closer (and not seen from aloy’s side)

in conclusion, I have feelings

[theparrotwizard]

Using the song "We are the Ground" by Mischief Brew as a kind of intention song for the future of politics, like those weird tiktokers who make "affirmation music" thats just them flexing their private jets and lambos, except with this one it's for actual safety and not just those self-centered rich rappers' lyrics repackaged

[elegyofthemoon]

well. i finished ch 17 of hi3. but at what cost

[ppulverse]

hello i want to complain abt txt's schedule with you because yeonjun is sick AGAIN and maybe i'm just noticing these things more as a moawajjunie but he's gotten so sick so often that it doesn't seem healthy at all. like he was sick around chinese new year (feburary) and he was sick during awards season, he was sick during moa day last year and he also got sick during the us leg of the act sweet mirage tour. granted, most of these are minor illnesses like colds but even then i don't know that many people who get sick this often within a year. i am begging bighit to let these boys rest because it is NOT good for their health and i'm genuinely afraid of the long-term consequences of this

oh my god he's sick again???? i haven't been keeping up with anything or anyone lately but 💀 jesus christ they really need a break. i'm someone who gets sick often (usually minor stuff like colds or just coughing) and it's SO fucking annoying... so it must be even worse for him considering how packed their schedule always is, and the fact that he has to perform even when he's sick, and the way he always has to be in good shape. bighit has become such a money-hungry bitch it's really disgusting. overworking them is affecting them mentally AND physically and i just wish hybe/bighit would see that before one of them has to go on a hiatus for health reasons (which i obviously hope doesn't happen, but at this point i wouldn't be surprised if it did). i'm sure the boys are happy that they're able to attend these events and see more fans, but at the same time it's pretty clear it takes a toll on them, and the tour hasn't even started yet!!!!! in a span of 3 weeks they did 2 weeks of music shows, a few fanmeets, fancalls, filmed for variety shows and interviews, went to japan for an award show, came back to korea and performed right after arriving, filmed a million tiktoks, went to europe!!! for a kpop festival!!! and they're going back to korea to prepare for the tour soon!!! this is just fucking nuts

[andromedasummer]

ngl it seems like everything has been going wrong for my dads side of the family these first two months of the year

[desiderium-eden]

Hm.... realizing that while communication with Rozum is down, my Navkans still have their psychic connections with their wolves. And if the wolves communicate...

[azureblooet]

I get Splatoon is about ink but would a baseball bat not also work?

[dutybcrne]

It’s easy enough to tell just how much something really got to Kaeya based on the air around him. He’s so carefully in control of his own emotions and Vision alike, his true feelings tend to go unnoticed or masked as something else. But if it really threw him or a loop or upset him in some way, a notable change in temperatures ( proportionate to how much he was affected ) is the surest sign, regardless of his poker face.

[owlthex]

I do not like it when men are like "you're not too short for this bouldering route, you just have to be creative."

Broski. The guy who set it was 6'0". I'm 5'4". To make it work, I have to make two dynamic movements. This is a V1. I should be making no dynamic movements in a V1. For me, this is a V4. And the fact there are no real V1s for me at the gym because every route setter is at least 6" taller than me is a problem. I cannot get any better if there is nowhere for me to start!

[groundbreakingdot872]

| Not like this. It was not this.

Anne Carson, from "Tag"

[brionysea]

note to self: don't go in geek remix's comment section when rewatching their life is strange let's play