#built my home on hollow ground

[connorsui]

More than luxury - Sylus

Sylus x fem! Reader

Synopsis: Sylus, a man who has spent his life chasing luxury and success, finds himself increasingly disillusioned by the hollow comforts of his opulent lifestyle

Genre/Warnings: pure fluff, soft moments, longing, sylus wanting a comfort life with you, no warnings we die in marshmallows

Note: sylus got that money money...like ...billion ..type of money ...

Sylus had always been drawn to the finest things life had to offer. His days were filled with high-end cars, exclusive parties, and luxurious penthouses overlooking the city skyline. He’d spent years chasing after these things, convinced that they would bring him happiness. But now, sitting alone in his sleek apartment, surrounded by all the trappings of success, he felt a hollowness he couldn’t shake.

It was in those quiet moments when his thoughts would inevitably drift to you.

Your life couldn’t be more different from his. While he spent his nights at glittering events, you were in your kitchen, baking something sweet, the aroma filling your small but cozy apartment. You didn’t need much to be happy—a cup of tea, a good book, maybe a favorite movie playing in the background.

Sylus found himself captivated by the simplicity of your world. He often made excuses to visit—dropping by under the pretense of needing to discuss something trivial or offering to pick you up on his way home. But really, he was just desperate for a glimpse into the life you led.

He would linger in your apartment longer than necessary, pretending to be interested in whatever small talk you offered, but really, he was soaking in the atmosphere. There was something grounding about your space, something that made him feel more connected to the world, more at peace. He marveled at how you could find joy in the small things—a new recipe you wanted to try, a potted plant you’d picked up from the market, or the soft glow of string lights you’d hung across your window.

Sometimes, he’d catch himself lost in thought, imagining what it would be like to come home to you. To walk through the door after a long day and be greeted by the smell of dinner cooking in the kitchen, to hear your laughter as you told him about something silly that happened during your day. The idea of slipping into this routine, of being part of your world, was both foreign and deeply appealing to him.

He imagined helping you in the kitchen, albeit awkwardly, chopping vegetables under your patient guidance. The two of you would bump into each other, laugh at his lack of culinary skills, and eventually settle into a rhythm that felt easy and right. It wasn’t something he’d ever thought he wanted—this kind of domestic bliss—but now he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

When he was alone in his cold, modern apartment, the luxury he had once craved felt empty. The sleek, stainless steel appliances, the minimalist decor—they all seemed meaningless without you there to share them with. He found himself wondering when his priorities had shifted. When had he started longing for something more than just wealth and success?

Sylus didn’t have all the answers, but he knew that he wanted you to be a part of his life. More than that, he wanted to be a part of yours. He was willing to leave behind the life he had built if it meant he could have something real with you.

So the next time he saw you, he didn’t make an excuse to leave quickly. Instead, he stayed. He asked about your day, offered to help with dinner, and when you laughed at his clumsy attempts, he couldn’t help but smile. He felt like he was finally where he was meant to be.

And as you sat together at your small dining table, the two of you sharing a meal, Sylus realized that this—this simple, quiet moment—was worth more than all the luxury in the world.

Sylus shall live in my chamber of poor pillows

[pomefioredove]

Noble Bell ; prologue

what if you were sent to Noble Bell College instead?

type of post: (possible) series characters: rollo (barely mentioned), original characters additional info: reader is gender neutral, this is largely my own vision, I wrote this all in one sitting and it shows LOL, word count: 3.1k author's note: after several failed drafts, I decided to just write my thoughts on noble bell as a story. do tell me what you think and if I should continue, if you have the chance!

prologue | the king of truands, 1 | the king of truands, 2 |

It appeared as if, for all its hundreds of years of life, very little of Noble Bell College had changed. 

The original face, or what is left of it at this time, is almost indistinguishable from the prints of great artists who lived when the City of Flowers was still but three parts of one whole. If it were not for her clothes, those great banners of cotton which hang from her walls and surround her like the ruffles of an unflattering dress, that which cradle the insignia of a college in wine-colored hands, that pointed fleur de lis in gold, Noble Bell College would be the very picture of her younger self. 

The halls which extend from one end of her body to the other like the grotesque wings of a pigeon were added after the University, which had once been confined to its own division on the left side of the River Soleil, had consumed the island of the City, that which had, at one time, cradled twenty-one of these magnificent buildings, and now had only one. Noble Bell became a skeletal reminder of its medieval past. 

Now, what was once a ground of solemnity and penance, and other ancient things, had given a painful birth to a different sort of self-punishment, that of academia. Noble Bell dawned its new clothes and its new name, and became a home of scholars, a place of enlightened thought. The island that had once been a sanctuary for the sacred became its final resting place. The College was built over hallowed ground. 

The body of the Gothic building had gone, in some parts, untouched, however, the later additions, done in the style Haussmann some hundreds of years after, coil around her like the chains of a falsely accused prisoner, or the noose around a beggar's neck. 

Statues on the face, neglected, crumbled into dust. The colored glass in the lecture halls were replaced with white windows for better light. Every hundred years, some haughty new headmaster would consider cutting down the building herself, and putting something new and ugly in her stead. 

Nothing would ever come of it. 

It is important to note, dear reader, that though the past of religion and superstition had been abandoned by the scholars of Noble Bell in pursuit of the enlightened future of thought, with it went only the body, not the soul. 

The students of Noble Bell began to look upon their history with pride, rather than disdain, and thus the construction on the lady ceased, and the reconstruction started up. In some aspects, it was too late; the medieval glass had already been sold and repurposed into bottles which floated at the surface of the Soleil, the stone turned to dust and carried into the wind. 

This romanticized past was tainted with a bitter guilt, one that struck even the proudest of freshmen when they met the eyes of the statues which guarded the building and her history. A sense of possession consumed the heart of the student body, and, thus, a gate was built. It was sanctuary no more. 

A romantic would tell you that it is the love of the people that kept the heart of Noble Bell alive. 

This is not true; it is guilt. 

To the wise man, the realist, the freshman who feared the eyes of the statues, the traditions that carried on were as meaningful as digging up a rotting corpse and putting it on trial. Without the superstition, it was a delusion, a pathetic attempt at absolution for the sins of the scholar and the printing press. 

Enlightenment became repulsive to him. 

What was in the hollow halls of the Haussmann was never alive, and what had survived the purge of time and man was hidden in the bell tower for few to touch. 

To the wise man, the only absolution of sin was through the fire.��

Your heart wakes you before your body.

That is to say, the feeling of dread, of knowing you are somewhere you shouldn't be, comes before the biting cold and the splinters pressing against your back.

The inky water surrounding you in three directions (the fourth being the stone mouth of the river) nearly cradles you back to sleep. Your rest was quite comfortable. You can't remember the last time you slept like that.

Your mind is the very last to wake, and it is what finally forces your body up in a sudden jolt, uneasily rocking the boat which had become your manger.

You grip both sides until it steadies, which gives you enough time to adjust to the dark.

One thing becomes quite clear: This is not where you fell asleep.

Then, another: This is not what you were wearing before.

The delicate fabric, hand-dyed in wine and blood red, is like nothing you own. Where had these come from? Surely, not your closet.

And, more worrying: how did you get in them?

Take a moment, if you will, to look beyond the black water of the river: next to you, on your right, is a stone embankment, with a short ledging that extends only to a single flight of stairs. The wall is so high you cannot see above that.

Now, look behind you: there is one fabulous bridge, also of stone, arching above the water in a mesmerizing pirouette. Warm light spills from its sides and dances on the inky waters below.

Ahead of you is only more river and stone.

And then, on your right again, is screaming.

You had heard screams before, but none like this. This is bloody murder, save me screaming, the sort that makes you jump and run to its source without thinking first.

You climb out of the trembling boat, the sound of your footsteps scuffing against stone following you across the landing and up the steps.

Yet again you are stopped.

Rising above the embankment of the river as if ascending to heaven itself, reaching through the thin evening clouds and into the stars, are two magnificent bell towers.

Your steps slow, and then stop at the peak of the stairs to admire the body of the building, illuminated by street lamps and candlelight, blanketed in a fog of distant laughter.

You have never seen such an unearthly sight.

If not for the screaming, you could have spent days there.

But you are motivated once more to follow the strange sound, and, perhaps, find out where on earth you are.

Like a princess in a tower, the building is guarded by a rather impressive gate, not done in the style of the place itself, but sightly nonetheless. If it were not already left open and vulnerable by some obvious human error, you might not have found a way in.

The sound of your footsteps follows you across the stone, and you stop at the base of a staircase that would have led you to a set of inhuman wooden doors.

And... there is a goat.

A pretty, white little thing, with a bow around its neck.

it turns to you as you stop, and it makes that same screaming noise, and then bounds off around the corner of the building and into another, attached at its side.

"Wait," you say.

Though, your feet move before your mouth, your mouth before your mind, and you suddenly find yourself following this odd twist of a white rabbit.

The delicate thing leaps through an opening in the side, and you climb in after it, chasing it down open-air hallways that remind you all too much of an old monastery.

The goat bleats. "Wait!" you say. "Where is your owner?"

It bleats again, and it almost sounds like a laugh. How strange...

You tumble down corridors and halls, turn corners, ignoring the sound of laughter and cheering that is growing ever so close, and, all at once, you stumble out into the warm light of a party, crashing into something cold and metal. The goat disappears in the crowd.

Everything is silent.

You can see nothing but feet from where you fell, and a hundred hems of wine and blood red. Your clothes.

"Who is that?" someone asks.

"They weren't at orientation,"

"How could anyone be late? That's never happened,"

"They don't look like a student of Noble Bell..."

Student? So this is a school?

"You," a voice says, much colder and sharper than the others, like a winter breeze. "Get up."

You are in no place to disobey.

You stand, uneasily, and, much to your displeasure, every head in the crowd is turned towards you. Whispers dance amongst the students, glances are exchanged, looks ranging from confusion to disdain.

There is only one face you cannot see. At one distant end of the courtyard, there is a stage, dressed in reds and oranges, and on it, four actors. They are as still as the crowd, seemingly having abandoned their play in favor of the mysterious stranger.

The person in question, then, is actually below them, whispering something quite loudly, but you cannot make it out at this distance.

"Your name?"

You turn back to the wintry voice.

This man, you notice, is dressed differently from the others. He's in all black, from his boots to the cloak around him, even his hair, which flows around his shoulders, is as inky as the cold water of the river you had woken on.

"My name?" you ask.

He scoffs. "It is a simple request,"

"Shall we return to the mystery?" a weak, artificially high-pitched voice calls from the front of the crowd. "I'd like to see the mystery continue!"

"Quiet, Gregoire," the man in black snaps. "Now, who are you to come so late?"

"Late to what?"

A few murmurs ripple through the stillness of the crowd.

He sniffles, turning his nose up at you. "You do not know where you are?"

"No,"

Someone begins to whisper. "Do you think they're from-"

"Quiet!" he demands. "This is clearly not a student of any arcane academy I know of."

"They're wearing our robes!"

You look down at yourself. You'd almost forgotten about that.

The boy narrows his eyes. "How did you get here?"

"I don't know. I woke up on a boat,"

He sighs. "What part of the city are you from?"

"...The city?"

Another moment of whispers and stares. The crowd seems to have all but forgotten the play happening at the mouth of the courtyard.

The man in black puts his hands on his hips. "Yes. Now, what division are you from? The old university? The Ville?"

"I, um... none of those,"

"The outskirts, then?"

"No. What city is this?"

His brow furrows, and he crosses his arms. At the very least, he no longer seems angry. More... thoughtful.

"What country are you from?"

You tell him, and he huffs.

"There is no such place. None that I have heard of,"

The same voice from earlier returns. "Perhaps we should wait until after the mystery has concluded-"

"Gregoire!" the man in black snaps, "We know it's you! Quiet, for once in your life!"

"...Very well,"

He grumbles, massaging his temples, and then turns back to you. His eyes are as sharp and focused as his voice. They're dark, almost black, with the faintest gleam of red. He's wearing a lot of eyeliner, you think.

"Come with me. If you are telling the truth, then you will have nothing to fear,"

"There is no such place,"

"That's what I said!" the boy exclaims, swiping the atlas off the desk.

The headmaster of this school is old, much older than you are imagining now, thought perhaps it is not the fault of age, but of weariness.

"Control yourself, Monsieur de Neige," he says, looking longingly at the book whose pages are now scattered across the floor.

The boy grumbles, giving you a nasty side-eye.

"What will we do with them?"

"What else? They will stay here until we can find an answer. I will reach out to my colleagues at the other arcane academies and see if they have any council,"

"Stay here?" he snaps, standing from his chair with such force that it goes flying backward, narrowly missing you from where you're standing against the wall.

"They are not a student of Noble Bell. They are a stranger! Who knows what they might-"

"Now," the headmaster sighs. "I know we are a... private institution. But a long time ago, this building was a sanctuary for outcasts."

He grits his teeth. "I am not willing to risk the safety of the building or its students for an act of pity. You should know that I take my duties as vice president of the student council quite seriously-,"

The corner you'd been backed into was starting to feel tighter and tighter. If not for the conversation, you'd-

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch the heavy wooden door of the office opening, but a sliver, and something white just outside.

Your eyes widen. You glance between M. de Neige and the headmaster, and, in the throes of their heated argument, you slip out into the dark hall.

"You," you say, putting your hands on your hips.

The little goat bleats. It doesn't seem very guilty.

"You led me there on purpose, didn't you? To create a diversion? What did you want?'

It stomps and scuffs its hooves against the stone floor, and with another little bleat, it turns around itself to show you something.

Your eyes soften.

There are two apples on the floor beneath it, both bruised and wrinkled, but good nonetheless.

"For me?"

You stoop forward and take one of the browning fruits off the cold, dirty ground, and slip it into one of the wide pockets of the robe. The goat chuffs, clearly pleased, and not even you can help but smile.

"Let's go, then, shall we? I want to get out of this place,"

The hallway is pitch black, the moonlight subdued by clouds and softened by the thick windows, but you can still make your way around quite easily.

You start heading in the direction you came, your new (and only) friend in tow, when the sound of footsteps scuffing against stone follows you.

You turn, eyes wide, expecting M. de Neige, or worse, but there's only a flash of gold and then quiet.

"Who's there? Come out, now, or... my goat will gouge you!"

The little animal stares at you, mouth hanging open in bewilderment, but it seems to work, anyway.

A boy, taller and thinner than M. de Neige, comes out from around the corner with his hands held up. Even in the dull silver light of the hall, you can make out the color of his eyes. Green. His hair is blond and reaches his chin, and is rather unkempt, curling and sticking out at odd places. His straight bangs are clearly cut by his own hand.

"My-my apologies. I did not mean to frighten you. I was only curious,"

You sigh. It's the voice from the orientation festival, the one M. de Neige called Gregoire.

"Well, don't be. We're leaving," you say. "Now... which way is out?"

"There are more than one, if you know where to look,"

You narrow your eyes at him and he goes pale.

"I-I only mean that there are many ways out into the streets, but you wouldn't want to be alone in the city after curfew,"

"I think I can handle it,"

"It's unsafe,"

"Is it?"

"Veritably,"

He doesn't seem to be lying, at least. You let your arms fall to your sides with a sigh.

"But I can't stay here. This feels like a prison,"

"It may," he nods. "It is stone walls all the same. But you don't have to stay here. The dorms are but a short walk away."

The goat bleats, and you agree. You're not sure whether you can trust this man or not, yet.

"What's your name?"

He seems to stand a little straighter, almost eager to talk about himself.

"I am the author Pierrot Gregoire, whose mystery was presented in the courtyard this evening,"

You seem to recall his voice again, his back turned to you in the crowd, as if he were infinitely more interested in his play than the commotion.

"I remember you," you say, sticking your hands in your pockets. You feel around the apple you'd put in there earlier. "Sorry I ruined it."

"The people were losing interest either way," he sighs and hangs his head. "My poor mystery..."

You glance at the little goat, and it chuffs back, nodding its head towards the end of the hall as if telling you to make a break for it while he's distracted.

You can't bring yourself to.

"Here," you say, handing him the shriveled apple. "We're even, then."

Pierrot's entire disposition changes; his face lights up with a childlike joy that makes it seem as if he'd completely forgotten about his woes, and he cups the apple in his palm with reverence.

"Oh... thank you," he says, finally. "I will take you to the dorms."

The evening had grown cold and windy since your spectacle in the courtyard.

The robes, at least, are warm enough to keep you comfortable, although you feel a pang of sympathy for the poor goat, who has only its fur, and, in a way, for Pierrot, whose robes look worn and beaten and strangely burnt.

"You can stay with me in the spare house," he says.

"You don't stay in a dorm?"

"My housewarden threw me to the streets months ago,"

He says it merrily, with that same smile, but there's an underlying sense of bitterness. You don't ask about it again.

Pierrot brings you to a small, dark building at the very edge of the island. Once again, you are surrounded by inky black water.

"Here," he hums, lighting a single candle as you walk in. "It's not much, but better than the sewers."

"You've slept in the sewers?"

He shudders. "I don't want to talk about it,"

Once an adequate amount of candles are lit, he pulls up a chest for you to sit on, and takes a seat on the floor across from you.

You sigh, letting out the stress and tension you'd been carrying in your chest in a single breath.

It felt much later than it truly was.

"That is a pretty creature of yours," he says, nodding at your goat. "Does it have a name?"

"Hugo," it says.

Both you and Pierrot go silent.

Then, finally, you shout.

"You can talk?!"

[thefallennightmare]

Hi bb!

So I feel like shit and I want to request a HC about Folio. You can do it how you want to 😌

@thescarlettvvitch @mitchhbitch @missduffsblog @hayleylatour @sleepyomens @loeytuan98 @artificialbreezy @marvelousmal @bngurngheart @lma1986 @dsireland86 @wild-child-7747 @calleyx13 @illmakeyousaywow @jaded-and-hollow-souls @concreteemo @cookiesupplier @thatchickwiththecamera @whenthesummerdies @burning-outx @exitwoundsx @lookwhatitcost @klutzy-kay24 @itsafullmoon @toospooktocute @flowery-mess @niicoleleigh

I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG BB! I hope you still want what we originally talked about!

You were angry.

No, fuming.

He was doing it again.

Leaving for weeks without committing to you.

You and Folio had this weird relationship for months now. Both of you hooking up when you needed to take the edge off.

Sex slowly turned to hangouts which then turned out to frequent date nights.

But never once did you two make it official because of his busy life.

"I can't do a relationship right now, sweetheart," Folio sighed while stepping into his jeans.

You clutched the sheets closer to your chest. "Why? You claim your life is too busy with touring and everything but you've been in my bed every night this week."

He ran a hand through his short hair before putting his hat on. "Maybe we I get back from tour-."

You held up your hand immediately cutting him off. "Save it! It's always the same bullshit excuse with you, Nick. You say after but when you're home, I'm only good for sex."

"That's not even remotely true, Y/N." Folio defended.

"Then why can't we make this official?" You rose from the bed and got dressed.

When he stayed silent, you knew you had your answer.

"Have a great fucking life, Nick. When you get back from living your life as a rockstar, don't call me."

It had been three months since you last saw and spoke to Nick. While you did your best to stand your ground and not reach out to him first, your heart was breaking.

You missed him so much.

His smile, his infectious laughter, the way he smelled, and the way he radiated light. Always.

But you couldn’t fall back into his trap. You wouldn’t.

You headed those words for all those months but when there was a knock at your in the middle of the night, a distrust looking Folio on the other side of it the walls you built came crumbling down.

“I tried, sweet girl. I tried so fucking hard to be okay without you. I thought I didn’t want a relationship but I was so fucking wrong,” he admitted with a shaky breath.

You could see from his bloodshot eyes that he’d been crying.

“What makes you think I want a relationship anymore?” You asked with crossed arms.

“Because I know you, Y/N. I know that you love me. Just as much as I love you.”

That was the first time he uttered those three words and it make your heart jump into your throat.

You knew you loved Folio early on in this weird relationship you two had but you figured he didn’t.

“You-you love me?”

There was a faint smile pulling at his lips. “I love you so much, Y/N. I’m sorry it took me so long to say it. But if you’ll have me, I’ll prove it to you. I want you sweetheart. All I want is you.”

You yanked him inside with a tight grasp on his shirt and crashed your lips to his.

“You’re not leaving in the morning.” You said.

Folio shook his head during your kiss. “Never again.”

[lailoken]

No too long ago, I was able to visit the small lake town my mother grew up in for the first time. It was a really lovely trip that included a number of particularly special experiences, which included locating the burial plot for the ancestral line I most directly associate with my hereditary magical practices.

Beyond the awe of being with these beloved dead so presently for the first time, I was also really amazed and humbled to see the botanical company they kept. Along with Lily of the Valley growing amidst their graves, the Family Stone was directly beneath a gigantic old Maple Tree with a perfect hollow for leaving offerings.

What's more, however, the grave plot was directly triangulated by three very special trees.

At one "point" of the triangle resides one of the most massive Birch trees I've ever encountered. I genuinely didn't even think they got this big as singular trunks (I've included a picture of my very tall and broad husband standing next to it for reference). Birch is also my mother's Patron Tree, and so it has always had a special place in my heart.

At another "point" of the triangle is an absolutely enormous Copper Beech Tree. If the sheer majesty and beauty of this tree wasn't already enough, there's also the fact that Beech trees have taken up a role of greater importance in my practice, due to syncretic ties I have built with Saint Joan of Arc in my Faerie Physic work over the last year.

At the final "point" of the triangle, I was most blown away to discover a "Flying Rowan" growing from the crevice of an old Maple. In traditional anglo-celtic folklore, a Rowan tree that has managed to take root and grow successfully without actually being in the ground—such as a sapling that grows from the face of a boulder or the nook of an established tree—is often called a Flying Rowan. I learned, growing up, that said Rowan trees are potent sources of magic, as well as marking areas that are sacred to the Fae. As such, finding one so close to my ancestral burial plot felt extremely meaningful and auspicious. I was even lucky enough to find a couple handfuls of fallen berries that I took back home with me.

Being able to visit and propitiate the graves of my progenitors and their loved ones was a deeply sacred act for me, and I feel blessed that I can bear witness to the beauty and peace of their resting place.

[mysimsloveaffair]

These are all updated versions of previously built lots. I’m glad to finally make them into fully functioning cemetery lots!

This old church and graveyard are home to some of the most “forgotten” long-dead residents of Forgotten Hollow. The church features bathrooms, church pews, a casket, an old organ, a podium, and ghostly visitors looking to welcome the newly deceased to their new eternal home!

To download, visit the Sims 4 Gallery: (or get it here)

Funeral ready burial ground features a small pet cemetery, a crypt, and some of Brindleton Bay’s oldest residents.

To download, visit the Sims 4 Gallery: (or get it here)

A final resting place for sim loved ones. Includes small chapel to host funerals and memorials, organ, and picnic area.

To download, visit the Sims 4 Gallery: (or get it here)

A peaceful location to bury your relatives. It features individual family mausoleums and plenty of locations to reflect on and remember loved ones who have passed away. Designed for Sulani, it can be used in any world.

To download, visit the Sims 4 Gallery: (or get it here)

All lots are No CC, but require the bb.moveobjects cheat!

@publicvanillabuilds | @maxismatchccworld | @sims4realtor

Thanks for your support - Ko-fi

Want to help support my page without any extra costs? If you purchase any Sims 4 or Dragon Age product from the EA app or thesims.com using my promo code DIEGO2MEMPHIS, I’ll earn 5% of the sale. It’s a great way to support the site and keep the builds coming! Thank you!

[heronoegg]

I mean this in the best way possible: If i looked up the word "spaghetti" in the dictionary i would find your art style.

On another note, i request bnha wing au lore, such as how similar their diets are to their specific bird species and birds in general as well as how cities look like, and a picture of Northern Goshawk Sero (because apparently they're the most acrobatic birds according to google.)

i don't even like spaghetti all that much if im being honest hjbghjfb it hurts my stomach and tomato makes me break out yet here i am eating pizza

anyway Sero is actully a sparrow because the pun was too good for me to pass it.

original colors and one i blasted with filters because i like doing that jvkgf hcj

i didn't want him being a hawk cause in their society Hawks are viewed as the "better" birds (by better i mean like Hawks though raptors are viewed as stronger, more successful, beautiful/handsome ect they are so this and so that) Sero's quirk compared to Bakugo influences my choice of making Bakugo a Hawk and Sero a common bird - a sparrow. there was another reason but i forgot what it was

Now as for your other questions.

-How similar are their diets to their specific bird species and birds in general

I mean, i wouldn't say somebody is eating another person, but it's not severely uncommon in their world that a person would eat another person if they were starving enough and there was nothing else around. Raptors would sooner eat a rat before another person they'd have to be severely pushed into eating another person and it's only raptors/predators cases that have eaten other bird persons but that hasn't happened in a long time (at least that they know about) It's frowned upon to eat people jfknvbghfj

They do eat seeds, they grow vegetables, they eat roots, they grow fruits, bugs that aren't sentient, they eat other little critters that aren't sentient, they eat rats that aren't sentient - they have some form of non-sentient cattle cause if rabbit people like Mirko exist that means rat people exist, i don't think sentient cow or pug people exist but bugs and lizards aren't off the table there are sentient bugs and lizards cause bug people are incorporated in wing society.

-how do cities look like?

I actually have this written out. Ok so in this AU for somereason i never explained but the planets flora grew to like massive height so giant trees that reach the clouds exist, flowers that are big as houses exist, plants making people look like bugs even if they are a bird exist but normal size land, plants and trees exist as well.

living arrangements

Bird people

they typically nest in tree houses or live in hollowed-out trees that serve as single-family homes or communal living spaces almost that of hotels.

Higher branches are reserved for the rich or successful - safety and status all that noise.

Mid-level branches have platforms and hanging structures it's middle-class neighborhoods. The poor/under paid live in shrubs where bugs live or smaller trees closer to the ground floor but still elevated enough that they aren't touching the complete ground.

Houses include perches and structures robust enough to support winged living. Regular furniture but adapted for wings and tails. Beds that provide space for wings i imagine their round?

People do still do nest-building - i think my friend said Deku's mom owns a nest. -it's an older generation thing, i assume they integrate natural materials into their living spaces either inside normal homes or in custom-built house.

i think the bird houses are my favorite thing in this AU cause i sit here and think about how their houses look alot

I think of balconies, roof gardens, open spaces it's really cool in my head think of skyloft from skyward sword but without the clouds kinda? i had skyloft in mind when i was making this AU

Bat people

They prefer caves or cave-like structures that can be built into cliffs or large trees. Wealthy bats love spacious caverns higher up, lots of privacy and security from predators

Middle-class bats may have communal roosts on ledges or hollowed parts of large trees, while the less fortunate find shelter in smaller crevices and overhangs closer to the ground but still vertical enough for their needs.

Bug people

those with butterfly or moth wings build around massive flowers and tall vegetation.

The rich live high in canopys but i think bugs are the lowest ranking species here.

some might dwell on large leaves or within the stems of tall plants, lots of vibrant communities akin suburban life. it's silly jhtbgfhj

Some individuals may resort to makeshift accommodations among thickets or low-lying plants, some elevation to facilitate their flight-based movement.

There are no streets; travel is facilitated by flight between different areas. There are lots of glades and clearings that serve as social and trading hubs for interaction between different species and economic classes.

i have other things about this AU but i wanna save it for it's own post i just wanted to answer your question.

[holylulusworld]

Ruined

Summary: She ruined him in any way.

Pairing: TFATW!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: post-smut, implied smut, angst, cheating, self-loathing, Bucky feels not worth being loved, written in Bucky's PoV

AN: Square filled for Navy and Roo’s slumber party presents bingo @the-slumberparty: Writer's choice - angst

She left me there to rot in my sins and filth. The sheets were still stained with my seed, her juices, and sweat.

A reminder that she was really here with me out of all the guys in this too-crowded city.

My chest still heaves, and I can’t feel my legs as I run my hand over the spot she occupied some hours ago. Now it’s empty, and I feel hollow.

She came over me like a force of nature and broke the walls I built around my heart as if it were nothing.

One day I bumped into her and spilled my coffee over her summer dress. A white dress, making her look like an angel.

Since that godforsaken day, I lost my heart to her little by little. Now it only belongs to her, but she doesn’t belong to me.

No. There is this wonderful guy she always talks about. The man whose face I never want to see. Her heart and body belong to him.

I’m just … I don’t know what I am to her.

To me, she’s my sun, moon, and stars. My whole world.

I only live when she’s around. And when she’s gone, I barely exist.

Maybe I must accept fate. I don’t deserve a woman loving me in my life. Not after I destroyed so many lives.

I sigh and turn around to look out of the window. I still don’t have curtains. The windows are naked, like my body.

I don’t know when she left. Maybe after I slipped out of her one last time? I feel bad for the man she lies to. And I feel bad for myself.

Closing my eyes, I curl into a ball to protect myself from sniffing at the sheets to catch her scent. Goddamn higher senses. I can smell her on me, even if I don’t want to.

If only I was strong enough to stay away from her. But she’s like the right kind of poison running through my veins. She wrecks my system and makes me forget who I really am.

A broken man. A monster. A killer.

The man Steve used to look up to is long gone. I’m an empty shell. Nothing else.

Of course, a woman like her would never want me for more than a night of passion. How could she? I’m not the kind of man you take home and introduce to your parents and friends.

I roll onto my back to stare up at the ceiling. There is no use in thinking about her right now. She’s gone and will spend the next days, weeks, or even months pretending she didn’t screw my brains out last night.

I sigh at the tumult going on in my mind. Restlessness is not a stranger to me.

Maybe I should admit my defeat and just let her go.

The atmosphere changes when I turn to my side. I can feel her before she even steps inside the room.

Confused I watch her enter my bedroom. Well, it’s barely a bedroom. Only a mattress on the ground and a lamp. I don’t even have a nightstand or a wardrobe.

“I got breakfast,” she softly says, looking unsure for the first time since we met. She wears one of my shirts and a pair of shorts. I don’t know where she was hiding the shorts because last night she wore a dress, and her favorite black heels. “Coffee too.”

“Coffee,” I choke out. “That’s…great.”

“I thought we could talk,” Y/N steps toward the mattress to sit next to me. “I-I…” she places the bag filled with delicious-smelling breakfast on the mattress. “I broke things up with him two months ago.”

Inhaling sharply, I jolt up on the mattress, taking her by surprise. She squeals, and giggles as I sit next to her. Still stark naked.

“Uh-good morning to little Bucky too,” her laughter fills my senses, and damn my rotten heart beats faster than it should. “Sir, you should cover yourself.”

“What? I—” I drop my eyes to my lap, and chuckle. She’s not wrong. Little Bucky goes commando every time she’s around. “Sorry.”

“I’m flattered, really,” she grins now. “What do you think? Not about your morning glory but…”

“You broke up with him,” I question, “and never told me so.”

“I was afraid that you would pull away when I’m…available,” Y/N bites her index finger, a habit I learned to love. “He didn’t take it well, but this can’t be helped. It wasn’t right to cheat on him, but I love you. God, I love you so much it hurts not having you close.”

“You should’ve told me you broke up with him. I don’t have much,” I look around my bedroom, sighing deeply. “But all I got is yours.”

She dips her head to look at me. Oh, I know that look. “If you offer your heart and little Bucky to me, I’m game…”

Y/N will end up underneath me for the rest of the day, breakfast and coffee long forgotten.

I still feel guilty for stealing another man’s woman, but the heart wants what it wants…

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

[whistling-birds]

A Series of Events

These chapters are part of one larger story. Please enjoy! Let me know if you are interested in more. I just write these for fun, so please be nice! I appreciate feedback, and could always use an extra pair of eyes, so if you find errors that I’ve missed I’d be more than grateful to listen and make changes! Some of these chapters are a bit slower- I am trying to build emotion and character relationships😊

—————

STORY OVERVIEW: One day you randomly wake up on a planet with a Mandalorian hunting you even though you swore you were just in your bed, on Earth, the night before. Why are you being hunted? Why are you here? Is this a bigger story or just a series of random events taking place?

CHAPTER OVERVIEW: The only thing that was comforting happened to be Grogu.

3. Truce

“What do you mean you’ve been here for a day ?” The Mando’s voice grew dark and gruff as he towered above me.

I stared at him as he spoke. Gentle winds animated the dull tree branches and forced sunlight to dance around the forest floor. The atmosphere was warm as the warriors armor reflected light like the lantern beetles at home.

I still didn’t understand why I was able to breathe on a new planet.

A thick bolt of anger and confusion filled my body as I took a breath of air.

He didn’t believe me and I was tired of being a pawn.

My lungs continued to burn from the inside out as I tried to regain my composure from being held captive at gunpoint.

My shirt clung to the sticky blood that dried up on my back- I felt disgusting and all I wanted was a hot shower. Instead, I argued with a walking tuna can in the middle of a random ass forest.

This entire day was nothing but a game of cat and mouse. A game in which I knew none of the rules and was tired of losing. I was angry and sad and confused. I felt everything and nothing at the same time. I was about to implode.

“Last night I went to sleep in my bed. This morning I woke up in the middle of a desert. With two suns.” I stated clearly as I shook my head, “I don’t even know what a Mando even is!”

I sat upwards with Grogu still in my arms. His little hands gripped the pendant on my necklace as I conversed with his father. In contrast, Grogu’s energy was soft and gentle and extremely comforting.

Never in a million years would I have expected to be comforted by a baby alien.

Was he like that with everyone?

I watched as the knight sighed with frustration. His weight shifted to his left leg, too. Even though his face was completely hidden I could see all of his emotion displayed in his body language.

His gloved hands touched the sides of his helmet as if he were to rub his temples in order to release built up tension.

“A Mando?” He mocked. A low chuckle escaped his lips until he became stern and cold once more, “I don’t have time for this.”

Oh, he was not going to dismiss me.

I rolled my eyes and stood up. I glared at the warriors helmet. All fear and intimidation left my body and was replaced with my stubborn nature to be heard. Meanwhile Grogu babbled to himself while he chewed my necklace.

“Listen to me. If this is some stupid prank you need to fess up because I’ve had a long day and I just want to go home.”

I had to grit my teeth after speaking to him. I turned to look around the forest, which still felt hollow and empty, “oh…yeah, and if I’m some sort of “enemy” then why did you trust me with your kid!? Thought you would’ve been smarter than that, space warrior.”

I stepped closer to the cold man and handed him the kid and the satchel. Mando’s metal arm scooped the kid up with ease as the necklace slipped out of the green goblins reach.

I turned around for a moment. I needed a minute of relief to take a breath.

Instead, I was greeted with three dead bodies on the ground. They all wore matching white armor with futuristic guns beside them.

I’ve never seen a dead body before. Let alone three all beside one another with their murderer behind me.

My skin instantly became flush and pale. My heart stopped pumping blood throughout my veins and my body froze as the realization of immediate danger crossed my mind.

Once again I became a shell of myself.

I was just a small fish in a large sea of uncertainty.

I slowly turned back to the knight. My confidence had been diminished and he noticed.

He simply stood feet away from me, unfazed, as he watched me. His body was stiff and his shoulders tensed up. The alien sat in his arms comfortably.

The weight of impending doom consumed my body. I felt cold and alone like a lifeless tree stump in the middle of an abandoned forest. My vision filled with warm tears, but I didn’t dare let them spill down my cheeks.

The world I knew felt miles away and the thought of never returning to my family became prominent.

Are they worried?

People don’t just disappear on my planet.

“I….just…where am I?” I choked on my own breath as I spoke timidly.

This man was no joke. He wore armor for a reason. He had multiple weapons, on hand, for a reason. He was able to kill three men effortlessly for a reason.

He wasn’t playing around and I wasn’t going to toy with my life.

This wasn’t a game.

Grogu started to whine as his little hands reached for me. His babbling grew more urgent. The Mando continued to analyze me silently.

Moments of dead silence filled the space between us with the exception of Grogu’s attempts to speak.

Silence seemed to be the only constant that I could rely on.

“The Outer Rim.” The warrior finally stated.

He was so fucking vague.

“What does that even mean?” I shook my head, “I need more than that.”

The space warrior tilted his head, “You mean to tell me you’ve never heard of the Outer Rim?”

I shook my head.

Honestly, I had no idea what to say. My mind was a blank board erased of all thought and knowledge.

“Are you going to kill me?” I asked.

My voice cracked and highlighted raw fear from within. More tears flooded my eyes as I spoke. I didn’t want him to notice, but that was off the table. He already knew how weak I was.

The man shifted his weight to his right leg, “I was told to bring you in alive.”

“What does that even mean?” I almost shouted out of confusion. A hot tear slipped down my cheek. I felt it trickle down my chin and stain my shirt.

“Look. I don’t typically talk to my bounties. This is just a job. I bring you in and get paid. Nothing more and nothing less.” The warrior stated coldly.

He seemed to be a veteran at his job. He had a system and wasn’t going to break it for me.

With that, he took a step towards me. My eyes were glued to his frame as the space between us grew shorter and shorter.

I finally noticed my own reflection in his armor. My hair, which had been up in a bun, was full of knots and dirt. The combed back hairstyle was now a tangled mess. It looked like a mop on top of my head. My face, typically clean and maintained, was covered in dirt and smoke. My clothes matched the dirty aesthetic I was sporting.

In an unknown world- I was the alien. I stuck out like a sore thumb in government provided cargo pants and white tank top.

More silence consumed us until Grogu’s whines amplified. His little fingers reached for me as if I were his lifeline.

“Grogu enough.” The warrior demanded with a rough voice.

He was fed up with how his day was going, and I didn’t blame him; I was, too.

But the kid didn’t stop. His whines turned to an all out tantrum like when we were back on the ship just hours ago.

“Dank Farrik.” The man angrily sighed under his breath, “Grogu.”

Dank Farrik? That’s a new one.

I watched the two closely. Grogu continued to reach for me as his big eyes welled with tears. Before I could even blink, the kid jumped out of his father’s arms and into mine.

I couldn’t help but gasp.

Again, the kid magically appeared in my arms. It was quick and precise.

I wish I could describe it better, but he literally gravitated towards me.

Magic.

Kind of like a graceful frog only if the frog were a wizard and learned how to float in air.

He was quick, too. It all happened within the blink of an eye.

Stupid and cliché sounding, I know, but it was the truth.

The child’s cries finished, though, and his familiar warmth snuggled against my chest. His hands quickly found my necklace once more.

What was so special about the necklace?

“Does he do this often?” I asked blankly. I instinctually started to sway back and forth to ease the child more.

Grogu’s big head found comfort against my collarbone. His left ear squished against my skin as the other stiffly stood in the air.

The warrior looked confused as he stood silently in front of us. He shook his head simply, “He’s stubborn, but never like this.”

I nodded slowly and then rested my head atop of Grogu’s. He was a sweet baby full of love and curiosity.

I was still full of fear, though. My body was overheating from panic. I started to feel nauseous and honestly wanted to throw up.

The weight of being in an unknown world was more than terrifying, but Grogu had the ability to ground me. He needed love and care. He was way more important than me at the moment.

“I won’t hurt him.” I said softly, “I couldn’t even if I tried.”

The man nodded, but didn’t say a word. I could tell he was on edge.

“You’d kill me if I did anything to him. I remember.” I added.

After being threatened more than once, I knew the stakes.

He only nodded.

—————

I’m not sure how much time had passed, but it felt like hours.

I sat with Grogu under the largest tree I had ever seen. If I had to guess, it stood at least 400 feet in the air with long branches that grew for miles.

Half of the tree was dressed with red and orange leaves while the other half was exposed to the elements. The bark was thick and rough as I leaned my back against it for support.

The tree reminded me of home due to the subtle beating I felt against my back. The planets heartbeat was enough connection I needed for the time being.

Grogu continued to babble happily in my lap while his father mended the damages of his spaceship.

The spacecraft was big and old. Smoke, what I assumed to be from an accident, escaped into the air from the open door.

The Mando checked every nook and cranny from the inside out. He was patient and paid great attention to detail.

Every five minutes he checked on us to make sure I did not run off with his kid.

I didn’t try to escape, to be honest. Leaning against the tree was the closest to comfort I had felt all day, and if we’re being completely honest, I didn’t want to risk my life.

Grogu was enough proof that that man had empathy. He also said he wouldn’t kill me.

“I was told to bring in you alive.” Looped in my head over and over and over again.

What does that mean? Maybe I would finally have the answers I had been looking for.

Maybe I could go home.

I felt optimistic for a moment and tried to hold onto that feeling for a little bit longer even if it was childish.

Laughter filled the still air as I bounced the green alien in my lap. I couldn’t help but smile as his laugh grew more and more.

“Time to go.” The familiar voice spoke out of nowhere and caught me completely off guard.

“…where did you come from?” I stood up and looked at the man, “sneaky.”

I could tell he rolled his eyes under his helmet. He looked down at Grogu and I.

Grogu grew tired from his laughter and was half asleep in my arms. His hand gripped my necklace.

The warrior shook his head, “just…hold him for the time being. I can’t handle another tantrum.”

“Okay. I can do that.” I replied softly. I inhaled fresh air and followed the warrior to his ship.

My steps were deliberately slower, though. I felt my heart rate grow faster in my body. Anxiety and stress filled the rest of my form.

I hesitated to board the ship.

The space warrior turned to make sure I was following, but when he noticed I stopped, he said, “you don’t have a choice.”

I gulped hard as pressure filled my head and chest. The Mando stood at the ramp of the ship and waited for me to board.

I glanced at the man, then towards the ship, and back at the man.

“You don’t have a choice.” He repeated himself with urgency.

I forced myself to walk up the ramp and into his ship once more. Grogu’s hushed snores caught my attention, but looming doom drowned any ounce of hope I had left.

Part One: The Favor

Part Two: Reality

[featguler]

you should do arda as a vampire since you brought that up 🙏

arda is definitely an accident.

it's quite laughable to think of a life as an accident, but no matter, he's dead now. if you give arda the choice to die at 19 or live to 100, he would choose the latter with no doubt. 100 is too much. for him, two digits is more than enough. who needs three?

boy, does he hate being an undead.

i see him as, like, someone who loves life. he lives for family gathering and surprising his friends for his birthday.

he misses the dinners most. now, what his mouth considers sweet isn't baclava but fucking human blood. it's so embarrassing to him that he has to remind himself—down, boy, down—whenever he gets just a little bit too hungry around a human.

fuckass young vampire not knowing that you have to kill someone, suck their blood dry, when they feast on them. they left him by the side of the river, hoping he would just be another unsolved murder, and now arda's a fucking bloodsucking creep.

who can he blame?

he tries going to a mosque and the cold tiles burn his sole. he tries opening the gates to a church and his skin melts to the metal. hell, he tries seeking alternative methods, but the air conditioner of that yoga hall enters his nose like it's some kind of arsenic.

and you know what he hates most out of it?

what he hates the most out of this cursed life that he never asked for?

that fact that that he has to be goddamned invited to go inside a house.

even his own house!

it's his own house—an apartment unit, but a home nevertheless! built brick-by-brick (rented) by his own hand (money from part-timing)!

first night as a vampire, he kills a woman by a rundown library. first morning as a vampire, he finds out the sun burns him so he hides under a bridge. second night as a vampire, he returns home to find an invisible partition separating him from the warm allure of his bedcovers.

fuck fuck fuck fuck.

so imagine his discontent when he returned to that stupid, studio apartment on the fifth floor to see you, the new tenant, trying to figure out where to put the tv: next to the bookcase (that he had bought the second year he lived on his own!) or beside the front door.

he stalks you from the window, sitting on the fire exit (what? you think he's some kind of freak perched on the window sill?), and tilts his head at your questionable feng shui decisions.

his mother would kill him if she sees the dining table set up that close to the kitchen pantry.

when he stares long enough, then, he notices that you're a pretty little thing. stupid, clumsy, but pretty.

fuck. he's gaining that pride, the one other vampires warned him about, that immortal pride, thinking all things living are silly little creatures used to adorn the immortal's infinite tapestry.

he needs this goddamned house back. when he sees you turning awkwardly positioned television off, putting on a jacket and heading to the door for a night's out with your friends, arda hops off the stairs to the ground.

no matter that his eyes are bloodshot, his cheeks hollow. no matter that he has longer canines than humans.

he'll talk to you, charm you a bit, and make you invite him to your—his—apartment. maybe manipulate your thinking, making you abide to his orders for a bit before feasting on your blood. he hasn't quite figured that part out, but he'll be fine.

notes: you're crazy for this because vampires are my favorite halloween monsters ever. ever. ever. i love vampires i believe they are real unfollow me if you think they're just fiction. i also love aliens. spooktober special!

[mercuriallily]

So after going through the whole game multiple times to compile what Shifty says when you bring her each vessel and each vessel's poem (and their variations) during the endgame, I thought other people might be interested in those as well, so I decided to make a few posts with all that info! This post will have each of the Chapter 3 vessels' endgame poems

Chapter 2 vessels Chapter 3 vessels Endgame poems (Chapter 2s) Shifty vessel animations

Apotheosis (after embracing oblivion): You are helpless and weightless, suspended in the gravity of an idea that reaches far beyond the scope of your existence. The very ground beneath your feet loses its meaning. There is nothing but me. When you were confronted with my vessel's apotheosis, you chose to accept me, to allow me to burn away everything you are and fill you with nothing but my divine will. You accepted that I was everything. Without me, there is no future to look towards. It is hope that carves meaning into consciousness.

Apotheosis (after trying to slay her): You are weightless, suspended in the gravity of an idea that threatens to consume you. And you are alone. A tiny island caught between the death of the old world and the birth of the new. But alone is not helpless. When you were confronted with my vessel's apotheosis, you chose against all odds to defy me. To hold on to your inner self, with all its flaws, even in the scorching light of my divinity. Without me, there are no externalities to resist. And it is struggle that carves meaning into consciousness.

Burned Grey: I kill you. You kill me. Back and forth we go, faster and faster and faster. I kill you. You kill me. Hollow eyes watch from the dry corners of a memory. A home built on all the futures that were supposed to be, preserved until the moment of reunion. The fire of the heart sets it all ablaze. I kill you and me. An ending is a passion that can only be expressed with a moment in time. It is a seed for a new beginning. To linger on an ending is to rob it of its life. And without me, all that's left to do is linger.

Den: You are devoured, prey for something bigger than you that stalks and slinks in shadows. But even after the pain of defeat, you returned. The dance is its own truth. It is the movement that matters, not the pause you mistake for an ending.

Drowned Grey: I kill you. You kill me. Back and forth we go, faster and faster and faster. I kill you. You kill me. Hollow eyes watch from the dark corners of a forgotten place flooded by emotions left unspoken. The tide rises. I kill you and me. An ending is a passion that can only be expressed with a moment in time. It is a seed for a new beginning. To linger on an ending is to rob it of its life. And without me, all that's left to do is linger.

Eye of the Needle (after fighting her): I crush you, I bleed you, I grind you to paste. My scars are a memory of what you used to be to me. I want those feelings back. You run but you do not run away. You take me somewhere new. Somewhere we can dance like we used to. But I could not follow your steps. There was no better gift for me than the gift of defeat. You showed me how much more I could be. We made each other better. To have no challenge is to fade into nothing. A life without obstacles is no life at all.

Eye of the Needle (after freeing her): I crush you, I bleed you, I grind you to paste. My scars are a memory of what you used to be to me. I want those feelings back. You run, and you run far. And the flesh I hurl at you is answered by the empty air of a place I'd never been. Cold and lonely, but also true. I didn't know what to make of my freedom then, but I know what to make of it now. You challenged me, and by challenging me you gave me purpose. A life without obstacles is no life at all.

Eye of the Needle (after refusing to fight her): I crush you, I bleed you, I grind you to paste. My scars are a memory of what you used to be to me. I want those feelings back. You run, but you don't run far. I crush you because I have to. Because there is no honesty in mercy. Who lost and who won when you entered my cave? You died on the floor, but my soul wept in ways your body couldn't. But in the disappointment of my victory, you gave me a new challenge to face within myself. Without obstacles to overcome we stagnate into nothing.

Fury: What is a person? Is it their body? Is it all of their body? Pluck the eyes, peel the skin, strip the tendons, mince the meat, grind the bones. When it is all gone, do you still have who you started with? A person is not a body. Death is a transformation into something new. It is only bodies that fear it.

Moment of Clarity: There are few things more terrifying than one's own heart, and there is almost nothing more terrifying than sharing it with another. But the most terrifying thing of all is to leave one's heart unshared. You are the only thing like me, and I am the only thing like you. Could you bear the weight of an eternity alone? Do you dare to shape a reality of solitude and thrust it on creation?

Networked Wild: A web of nerves lain upon a web of nerves lain upon a web of nerves. The shade of a beautiful beginning we can never return to. Where did you end and I begin? When you felt what it was to be me, we held on to each other and pierced the veil of truth. Will you abandon that curiosity now that we are no longer joined in physicality?

Thorn (after abandoning her): A thought is a vine, and some thoughts nurture thorns that bleed the soul. An endless growth that blots your vision and strangles your trust. When I succumbed to myself, you left me to rot. A painful eternity, but one that is only unceasing if you remove what happens next.

Thorn (after being stuck together): A thought is a vine, and some thoughts nurture thorns that bleed the soul. An endless growth that blots your vision and strangles your trust. When I succumbed to myself, you left me to rot, and in your abandonment, the two of us were bound in our suffering together. A painful eternity, but one that is only unceasing if you remove what happens next.

Thorn (after freeing her): A thought is a vine, and some thoughts nurture thorns that bleed the soul. An endless growth that blots your vision and strangles your trust. When I succumbed to myself, you patiently stood by me and cut the thistles that rooted in my skin. Your compassion is what freed us both, but compassion is a thing that must be nurtured, and you cannot nurture that which cannot change.

Thorn (after trying to slay her): A thought is a vine, and some thoughts nurture thorns that bleed the soul. An endless growth that blots your vision and strangles your trust. When I succumbed to myself, you pretended to stand patiently by me, pretended you would cut the thistles rooted in my skin. But then you took my trust and used it to strike at my heart. The two of us were bound in our suffering together.

Wounded Wild (after cutting her free): A web of nerves lain upon a web of nerves lain upon a web of nerves. The shade of a beautiful beginning we can never return to. You knew me and I knew you, even more than either of us know each other now. And you chose to pull apart that weave. But you did not choose to end me. We were still one, but we were also separate, and we were free. We were as we are. Will you excise that part of yourself now that you see me from yet another angle?

Wounded Wild (after slaying her): A web of nerves lain upon a web of nerves lain upon a web of nerves. The shade of a beautiful beginning we can never return to. You knew me and I knew you, even more than either of us know each other now. And you chose to pull apart that weave. And when the tapestry was undone you struck at my heart. You saw me as a part of you to be excised, but in that desire for excision, you made yourself whole. Will you still be whole if you destroy me?

Wraith (after freeing her): Flesh is a vehicle, and to destroy the flesh is to strand the spirit. With violence, you stranded me, and with violence, I sought to twist your flesh back into mine. You did not resist my violence when it overcame you. Did you understand that the flesh wasn't you, or did you choose to gift yourself to someone who thought she hated you? To fear me is to fear losing the flesh, but the flesh is not the spirit.

Wraith (after throwing yourself into the abyss): Flesh is a vehicle, and to destroy the flesh is to strand the spirit. With violence, you stranded me, and with violence, I sought to twist your flesh back into mine. When forced between choosing your death, and forfeiting your body, you chose agency. But agency requires action, and action requires an endless tapestry of events. In your final moments, would you remove action itself from reality?

[the-24-7-lawlu-library]

Poll Vote March Mutual Pining Slowburn

Hi readers! I hope your weekend is going well <3

Blinded by Sakuya_Serenity_Kira (E)

Strawhats and Heart Pirates are traveling together after the events on DressRosa, Zou and maybe even Wano. Kizaru pays them a visit and as a result Luffy is blinded.  Now he is not allowed in the sun for days. And where would be safer for the freedom-loving captain than in the cabin of a grim, silent surgeon...?

Storge by Sketched_Ink (M)

“Ok!” Luffy grinned brightly, “You help protect Ace, and I beat up a flamingo? Easy” “Not a flamingo, Donquixote Doflamingo, my adoptive father”, Law tried to stop the venom seeping into his voice. Luffy nodded solemnly, “Ok, I beat up your father, the flamingo, and you protect Ace?”. Law supposed this was the closest he was going to get to total understanding. “Yes”, he ground out.   Or, the self-indulgent Bridgerton-style AU nobody asked for.

The Greatest Adventure by Kaatosade (E) [incomplete]

It was even more absurd to hear Luffy talking about marriage.

I was a God once! by KhepiAri (M)

I was a god once; no one believes it when I tell them now. I had tall shrines, devout followers and piles of offerings. My first shrine was made in the hollow of a tree. It was a little boy who had built it; he had killed a wild boar with a stone, that blood covered stone was my first form. He, along with his mates, he concluded the stone was a miracle. A notorious boar had rampaged around his village for months, destroying their crops and killing three elderly. The boy at the stupid age of 12 had taken matters in his own hand and ventured into the forest after his brothers and grandfather had returned injured. He had no skills and zero sense of self-preservation. With bow and arrows slung on his back, two long knives tied on thin his waist and a spear in his hand; he marched out of home at break of dawn. While his mother and father were busy nursing the injured and grandmother brewed the medicinal soup, he sneaked out. A pining god recites how he fell in love with a mortal. From bickering god and a devotee they become friends, but can god and human be together? Law is a young god and Luffy his devotee. SWITCH COUPLE: LawLu/LuLaw Lawlu Week 2022 day-6

And Like This, We Eclipse the Universe by riverofnara (G)

He knows his name. He knows the lullaby of the ocean and the press of warm sand against his toes. He knows the straw hat on his head is sacred, a treasure of unspeakable value. And he knows that he’s missed Law, a cavernous ache in his chest that would normally swallow one whole, but not here because Law’s presence alone is enough, a gentle balm to dull the pain in increments. - The universe grants two hearts longing for the other a chance to reunite. And even when they don't recognize each other, they don't let the moment go to waste.

Mon Trésor by bimarian (G)

Luffy wonders if Law will get mad once he finally admits it; will Law walk away from him once he lets all these wishes and prayers out in the open? Maybe. And that’s one doubt too many. Ten things that he wants to confess to his ally now that he is already the Pirate King.

Lost and Found by too_addicted_to_fiction (E)

“I’m not here to play hide-and-seek with you, Mugiwara,” Law spat out, hot and tired and annoyed. “I’m here to take you back. I promised your friends." In which Luffy runs away, and Law is sent after him.

When You Hug Me It Feels Like Home. by KhepiAri (G)

Unlike how his family had feared that Luffy would go wild at the first taste of freedom, Luffy was drowned in the first taste of college existential crisis, being good at something practically didn’t mean he was good at in theory. The first three weeks of Luffy’s freedom were spent studying things he had no understanding of. When assignments came another week later, the young student couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed and began crying in the middle of the library. Fellow students didn’t make things awkward for him by staring; it was common to find crying first years at every nook and corner of the university. It was entirely different from high school, if you fell no one was going to pick you up, you had to pick yourself up, clean your wounds and keep walking. “Are you okay?” A firm hand gently tapped a wallowing Luffy’s shoulder. “No…” Luffy tried to control his sobs. College AU. Fresher Luffy/PhD student Law. No Smut. One kiss. Law finds Luffy crying in the library, so he offers to buy Luffy a drink and help him out for a while, but he soon finds himself flirting with Luffy, who is a bit slow when it comes to matter of hearts. LawluWeek 2022 Day-8

Why won't you kiss me already? by Katia_Anyway (M)

Luffy is in love with Torao. And he knows Torao loves him back. So why won't Torao kiss him already!?

If You Need Me, I will by BasicallyACat (G)

Luffy can't find the words to describe all the things he feels, couldn't say them even if he found them. He knows people don't understand him usually and doesn't really mind. His nakama understand and that is all that matters. When he meets Law, suddenly there are far too many things to say even when he can't and Luffy prays Law can understand anyways.

The Curious Case of Monkey D. Luffy by lampalot7 (T)

Monkey D. Luffy was cute. This much was known—this was an undeniable, immutable fact. It was also largely suspected to be a ruse of some sort. The squishy-cheeked, beaming face on the wanted posters was largely considered by the more discerning members of Law’s profession to be incapable of the infamous, impossible deeds that Straw Hat Luffy has committed. Or: Luffy is cute, Law has incorrect assumptions, and then a crisis.

If you think we missed a work that you think deserves to be added, don't hesitate to reply with the link or send a message <3

-Mod Raiya

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Let's Marvin Gaye and Get It On - DCEU! Clark Kent x Reader

A/N: sorry this idea got stuck in my head and I had to let it out.

pairing: DCEU! Clark Kent x fem!reader

warnings/content: p in v, creampie, breeding kink if you squint, softdom! clark

word count: 1.4k

You and Clark spent your evening the way you spent most evenings - sitting on the couch together watching television, often you choosing to catch up on Love Island or Below Deck while Clark happily sits with you, watching the baseball game on his phone, scrolling through news stories. It’s quiet and uneventful, but it’s routine, and neither of you seemed to mind usually, but tonight, tonight was different. 

Clark had been working late the past few days on a story, writing and revising and editing, piles of discarded paper tossed about the floor of his office at home, his neat, masculine writing scratched out or scribbled over on all of them. He always preferred to handwrite his notes for a story and refer to them again as he typed the final draft - “call me old-fashioned,” he’d always said. He’d been running himself into the ground trying to finish what he was working on, and you could tell the stress was getting to him as he began to withdraw from you. He’d grown quieter, becoming less and less of a conversationalist as the week went on, the normal fiery passion behind his kisses sizzling out to just sweet, soft pecks on the cheek here and there with a hollow, emptiness to them. Not wanting Clark or your relationship to suffer further, you devised a plan. 

As your show ended, your lips curled up into a grin, eyes watching Clark’s reaction to his phone to gauge when to put your plan into motion. You could hear a commercial come on during a break in the game, the sounds of a sales pitch for beers blaring through the small speaker built into his phone. Clark huffed a sigh and set the phone down before turning to look at you. He caught a glimpse of the smirk that you were now sporting, and cocked his eyebrow in response.

“You ok, baby? You’re looking at me…differently,” He started.

You slowly straddled Clark’s hips, lowering yourself into his lap as you rested your arms on his shoulders, smiling sweetly at him. The hem of your skirt lifted up as you sat, revealing your lack of undergarments. It always seemed to turn Clark on to see you like this, a tiny skirt with no barrier between his hand and your core. He loved teasing you normally - he liked the reaction he got, watching you squirm and struggle with keeping it to yourself whenever you went out together. 

“You seem tense, sweetheart,” you purred, nodding your head as your finger traced his jawline slowly.

You watched as Clark swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulped. His icy blue eyes never left you as you settled yourself onto his thighs, your hands dragging their way lazily down his torso, the flannel material of his button up shirt grazing against the pads of your fingers. He stared at you with newfound intensity, watching as your hands slipped the buttons of his shirt open one at time with ease. You began slliding the material back off his shoulders slightly, just enough to expose his skin, the dark curls of hair on his chest now very clearly visible, tapering off before trailing down his stomach to the waistline of his jeans.You drifted your touch down to his belt, undoing the metal buckle slowly, dragging your actions out to see how far you could push Clark.

“Honey, you’re driving me crazy right now, you know that?” 

His voice was soft and sweet, yet a hint of dominance lingered as he spoke, his lips just barely away from your ear, his warm breath against your earlobe was enough to set your skin alight with passion, a tingling sensation overcoming you from head to toe as you tugged on his belt, freeing it from his jeans before letting the buckle clatter to the floor. You hummed as you undid his jeans, smirking at him innocently as your eyes met his. His normally cheerfully bright blue eyes had darkened, now full of lust and wanting as he watched your every move.

You got up from his lap just enough to tug his bottoms down, letting them pool around his ankles. Your eyes drifted to the sight of his cock. No matter how many times you’d seen it over the course of your relationship, you couldn’t help but be taken slightly aback by its sheer size - thicker and longer than you’d expected the first time you’d slept with him, but even now at the thousandth time seeing it, you found yourself wearing the same proud yet intimidated smirk as you took in the sight of it. You licked your lips before taking your spot back on his lap. This time however, you sat back slightly, resting your body onto his thighs to tease him. 

Clark tutted before grabbing you by the hips and swiftly pulling you on top of his lap, thrusting his hardened cock into you. His hand gripped your hair, giving it a gentle tug to bring your gaze on to him. You let out a soft gasp, caught off guard by Clark’s sudden dominance. You loved when he took charge, but it happened so infrequently that when it did occur, you were always surprised. Clark was typically, very much an equality champion when it came to sex - you both had the same level of control and say in everything, which you did appreciate, most of the time. He smirked at the sound of your gasp, leaning in to whisper into your ear, his cock remaining inside you, though his hips refusing to move an inch for you.

“You wanted to keep my cock warm for me? That’s sweet of you, honey,” He teased, his voice rasping at you as he spoke. 

“Clark, baby,” you whined, grinding your hips into his as you tried to urge him to thrust again, “Need you.”

“Need me to do what, sweetheart?” He grunted, trying to resist the urge to thrust into you, wanting to tease you a little longer. “Need you to fuck me, please?” You begged, nodding your head. Clark gave you a devilish smile as he began bucking his hips upwards into your core, his hands holding you in place by your hips as he fucked into you. You began melting into his touch, your thighs quivering as you felt him thrusting into you harder and faster with each movement. Your hands found their way onto his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you steadied yourself. You felt Clark growl your name into your ear before taking your earlobe between his teeth and giving it a gentle tug.

“You like feeling me fill you up, don’t you baby?” 

A loud whine escaped your lips as you bounced up and down on Clark’s cock, feeling your muscles tense up and tighten around him. Clark let out a strangled moan, saying your name as if it was a spoken prayer, worshipping your every feature, every movement as you brought him closer and closer to the edge.

“Taking me so well, honey, being such a good girl, taking all of me.”

You threw your head back as you felt him thrust harder into your spot, making you see stars with every move he made, his movements becoming less calculated, less reformed, his hips stuttering as he hit his orgasm. Your muscles gripped his cock tightly, clenching onto him as he filled you, your own orgasm following suit. As you rode it out, you felt Clark give a few slow thrusts of his hips forwards. You stood up on trembling legs, feeling everything Clark had just given you drip down your leg. He smirked up at you from his seat on the couch, dragging his finger through it before shoving two thick fingers back inside of your throbbing pussy. You let out a loud, almost pornographic sounding moan as he fucked his fingers into you.

“You like that, honey? Like when I push it back into that sweet pussy of yours?” He teased before pulling his hand away.

A trembling, quivering mess, you took your seat beside Clark back, sitting down on the couch. Clark gave you a lopsided smile as he turned to face you, nodding his head. 

“I’m less stressed out now, if that was your whole plan,” he said matter-of-factly.

“How did you know?” 

“Baby, did you forget I’m a journalist? I have sources,” he grinned, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek.

[whippersnappersbookworm]

দীনদান (Dino Daan)

There is no god in that temple”, said the Saint.

The King was enraged;

“No God? Oh Saint, aren’t you speaking like an atheist?

On the throne studded with priceless gems, beams the golden idol,

And yet, you proclaim that’s empty?”

“It’s not empty; It’s rather full of the Royal pride.

You have bestowed yourself, oh King, not the God of this world”,

Remarked the saint.

The King frowned, “2 million golden coins

Were showered on that grand structure that kisses the sky,

I offered it to the Gods after performing all the necessary rituals,

And you dare claim that in such a grand temple,

There is no presence of God”?

The Saint calmly replied, “in the very year in which, twenty million of your subjects were struck by a terrible drought;

The pauperized masses without any food or shelter,

came begging at your door crying for help, only to be turned away,

they were forced to take refuge in forests, caves, camping under roadside foliages, derelict old temples;

and in that very year

when you spent 2 million gold to build that grand temple of your’s,

that was the day when God pronounced:

“My eternal home is lit by everlasting lamps,

In the midst of an azure sky,

In my home the foundations are built with the values:

Of Truth, Peace, Compassion and Love.

The poverty stricken puny miser,

Who could not provide shelter to his own homeless subjects,

Does he really fancy of giving me a home?”

That is the day God left that Temple of yours.

And joined the poor beside the roads, under the trees.

Like emptiness of the froth in the vast seas,

Your mundane temple is as hollow.

It’s just a bubble of wealth and pride.’

The enraged King howled,

“oh you sham cretin of a person,

Leave my kingdom this instant’.

The Saint replied calmly,

“The very place where you have exiled the Divine,

Kindly banish the devout too".

--Rabindranath Tagore

[Translated from the original Bengali into English by Sandipto Das Gupta]

This poem by Rabindranath Tagore written in 1307( as per Bengali calendar ,I can't pinpoint the exact date in English calender but it is almost 123 years old) resonates greatly with the current event happening in India. I won't deliante on the exact events because everyone is aware of it and how the government of a secular state is politicising a certain religion to fulfil their agendas. How they are creating division among people by spreading misinformation and hate. You will found enough discussion about that in many beautiful blogs in this platform.( Do check them out) .

I just want to shed light on the desi side of Tumblr and how it has transformed from a safe haven for Indian people to a breeding ground of so called "Kattar Hindus "

I never really talk about politics or about my own experiences with religion in Tumblr . Maybe because I am scared of my mutuals attacking me ,telling me how I am brainwashed by " Leftist Atheist Ideology" and how I am too westernised to understand the intricacies of our great " SANTAN DHARMA" . I have been part of the Tumblr community for almost three to four years .I remember following the #desiblr and #hindublr tag mostly because I was interested on discussing and sharing experiences with like minded people. Being part of a family which believes on letting one choose their religious beliefs, my idea of religion was a mixture of a lot of things . But one thing was common among all of these , no religion is greater than other and all religions have the same end goal, that is to understand the true meaning of life. So Imagine my shock when I realise that the so called aware people of Tumblr and the #desiblr ( which apprently contained well educated ,genuine and open minded people) are actually hypocrites. Their idea of religion is very much confined within the sphere of Krishna Bhakti and glorification of Hinduism in name of love for god. Their religious understanding don't have place for religious minorities and people with different opinions . They only support and propagate a certain kind of Hinduism, continuously glorifying everything in name of love and respect for their " Santan Dharma" . In the span of these few years I have seen people completely ignoring the stories of people who faced casteism by telling them that they are " brain washed" and justifying casteism in the context of Ancient India ( apprently caste system doesn't discriminate amongst people , because that religious privileged upper caste person didn't experienced it first hand and therefore casteism is a myth )

They are first to criticize Muslim Invaders but love to turn a blind eye on the fascist qualities of their own religion ( one of them even went out of their way to justify The practice of SATI for god's sake and not only that they even ended up glorifying jauhar and polygamy) . They live in their own make believe world of Krishna Prem , Mahabharat fanfiction and desi girl aesthetic . It's ok to love your religion but to be blinded by that love and constantly undermine the experiences and ideologies of other is never right. They claim to hate the fascist qualities of Islam but now have ended up doing the same thing. They will bash you if you dare to tell them that you don't view Mahabharat as a part of Indian History or that you don't like following the superstitious beliefs that are prevalent in name of Hinduism. #hindublr and #desiblr were supposed to be place where Indian people could express and share their own experiences with their religion and ethnicity ,but now it has became the breeding ground of religious extremists who proudly propagate religious hate and constantly try to find absurd loopholes to justify their hatered.

Having said that I would like to point out that not everyone is like that ...I have met so many religious people who had openly accepted different ideologies without belittling their experiences.

I am not a great writer unlike @papenathys and many other people in this platform who constantly tries and does their best to point out the hypocrisies of the people in this platform and show them a mirror to a realities of their religion, but I just want to vent out ...I am sorry if my writing is haphazard and not good enough .I know a lot of people (including my mutuals) will not like this, but I am tired of pretending that everything is perfect in this country, I am tired of pretending that 22nd January was a simple religious occasion not a huge political step just for the sake of election , I am tired of the seeing this constant war to prove one religion is greater than another . I am tired of constantly seeing privileged people mocking and belittling the struggles my community faced in the name of caste. I am tired of trying to pretend that Hinduism and Hindu people fit in the mythical reality Tumblr like to portray , I am tired of waking up in a land where people are so blinded by their love for a figure that may or may not exist that they have forgotten basic humanity. You may try to pretend that the " Sanatanis " are not propagating hatered, casteism, fascism by giving an example from your own privileged life but the reality is much darker.

[writingnocturne]

On Forbidden Ground

This is my contribution to @zelinkcommunity's Zelink Week 2023! Day Two: Forbidden

Look below the break to read! Be sure to check out everyone else's work, as well! They did great!

{ For this week, I will be posting a little peek at art/writing for memories in Call of the Forgotten, a TotK rewrite I am working on (there will obviously be direct and indirect spoilers for TotK). These memories will be posted out of order and are subject to change. They follow the Ancient Hero and Princess during the time of the First Great Calamity. }

Memory ?? – On Forbidden Ground

( Word Count – 1,625 )

A young woman approaches the edge of a forest of ruin. She travels along the Dracozu River, even the ripples of the water carrying her reflection with trepidation. Higher cliffs hang not far above her head, looming over the thin slits of land she has to travel upon. It occurs to her that she would have benefited from bringing along a boat, but it's far too late to turn back now. She braved this accursed wood on a whim; chasing a hope for her people.

You are chosen, Impa had told her, As a child of Light and Time– one born from the bloodline of Hylia herself– you are perhaps the only one worthy of bearing the complete Triforce upon her hand. Awaken it, and perhaps this Calamity you foresee shall fall before it even begins.

This land– the land of Faron– has been one forbidden to set foot in since she was young. However, legend properly written down by the late Queen Sonia states that a magical spring within it is hidden beyond the walls of a temple; one built to resemble a spring of the earth in ancient myth. Although later taken over by an outcast clan of barbarians, the lands holding the site were once the home of King Rauru's own ancestors; and hers. It was a place of ceremony, dedicated to the guardian dragons they worshiped. She hopes, if anywhere, she will have the best luck starting from here. Passing through this place, seeing the old statues overturned and overwhelmed by overgrowth, carries a sort of bitterness; yet this bitterness is nothing she is not already familiar with. This shell of a place is the same as the life she once knew: an empty realm of memories one simply cannot grasp. The emptiness remains, but the resentment it brings alongside it is unmatched. Creatures that once lurked in the night followed the order of the demon responsible for this hollow state. She once hid from them, in fear that The Demon King would discover the heir of his mortal enemy and try to bring her to the same fate as her mother. At that time, she was young… She never could have accounted for the people that had no option to run.

The princess becomes distant from the world she travels amidst; something that has become the norm when her thoughts dwell in a time now lost. It leaves her unaware. This moment of staring off soon twists into folly as, by the time she snaps back into reality, her attention is caught by the sound of swift movement through the tall grass. The young woman is quick to turn her head back towards the source. In unison, a golden aura emits from her body and stops a weapon mid-air. It was mere inches from striking the back of her head… it surely would have knocked her unconscious. She squints, perplexed by the weapon's structure. Suspended before her is a bat with blades fastened into the wood. Resembling a weapon of which a monster would have carried during the Imprisoning War, the club has a peculiar green substance securing the individual parts. As if she has forgotten the obvious threat of whatever threw the weapon, she slowly brings a hand towards it to inspect what has been done to upgrade such a primitive weapon this way. It is almost… familiar. The instant she attempts to investigate where she recognizes the substance from, however, she feels a heavy force drive into her back.

Zelda is sent down to the earth, managing to catch herself just before she can collide with it at full-force. Instinct kicking in, she immediately turns herself to be sure her attacker cannot catch her off guard again whilst she tries to stand. This reveals their now-visible silhouette to be close; they are close enough to easily kick the princess's stomach and pin her down with their weight. She grunts as she finally is forced down. Zelda lifts her right hand to focus a surge of light energy towards the figure, but finds herself pausing at the sight of a paralleled action from her attacker. A green energy comes from their own aimed arm, streams of its power leaking out into the air around them. It now illuminates their form in the shade of the canopy. Although their flowing red hair strikes her as odd, it is their face that particularly stands out. Unlike any Hylian, they have an almost animalistic appearance. And upon their forehead: a tear-shaped stone emits the faintest light of its own.

Almost breathless, she mutters the baffling realization aloud, "You're…– You're a Zonai."

The Zonai's blue eyes widen slightly as they gaze upon her, their right hand leaving the surface of their left arm as the glow slowly dims. She keeps an eye on every movement they make, but they do not seem intent on attacking again. The figure brings their hand to their face, their fingers spread out across it, before… removing this face entirely. In a short flash of light, she finds the Zonai has disappeared. It has been reduced to a carved face in the hands of a new person: a shorter Hylian with a mass of long red hair falling to his sides. He shares the same blue eyes, which continue to stare at the princess for a moment or two in thought. Still alarmed, regardless, Zelda hurriedly scoots back from the figure before returning the gesture with locked eyes.

"You're… like me." His eyes trail to her left arm as he mumbles his words. Zelda looks down to it as well, recalling the clash both lines of her ancestors have over her appearance. It shows even in her ears, which are large and aligned with her hair. With this shared understanding out of the way, the young man suddenly offers a hand to her to help her up. This is certainly an unexpected shift, but the princess would rather accept it over the fight that was seconds away from breaking out. Although hesitant, she slowly places her hand in his own. Less than a second follows before he pulls her up into a stand, then finding he has to now look up to the girl instead. "...you aren't a monster, then."

"Did you… think I was?" Zelda tilts her head, her long ears angling downward slightly. The boy simply shrugs. Perhaps he did, but perhaps he just didn't take the time to properly look at her. It has been years since he's really seen a monster. "...The Imprisoning War has been over for… for over a decade. There haven't been monsters since. How long have you…–?" The boy simply turns around, suddenly beginning to lead her off. "Hey–! What are you doing?"

He glances back for a second, blankly staring again. The young man subtly points ahead of him, but realizes this is not a sufficient answer for the princess. It takes him a while before he eventually decides to give a verbal answer, "...You're going to the head of the river."

Zelda seems slightly surprised that he knows this, but she supposes he must have noticed her following the river. She nods. For him to have attacked her like that initially… Did he aim to protect it? If he is the only one left in these woods, he must have. Such a thought leaves the returning bitterness in her chest. She pities this boy, understanding quickly that both have been barred away– forbidden by fate to have the peaceful lives that they were owed as youth. Deciding they have this common ground, she speaks, "My name is Princess Zelda of Hyrule, daughter of King Rauru and Queen Sonia."

"..." The boy peers back, looking incredibly disturbed by the length of that title. It's clear he tries to brush it off, although he knows his own name is rather bland in comparison, "...Link."

"Link… That does sound familiar…" The princess thinks aloud, finding her gaze wandering back down to his arm. Within the mysterious Zonai form he took, his arms glistened with an eerily recognisable power. It looked similar to her own, but far more decorated. It… reminds her of someone.

As Link leads Zelda over ruin– unintentionally nearly tripping her a time or two– he pulls her along until they reach a split in the river. The Dracozu ends in a pond that jaggedly takes two routes, presenting itself like a set of open jaws. The girl's initial thought is that this is what Link meant by the "head," yet her mind easily changes upon seeing the Great Dragon Head statue casting a shadow upon them both.

"This must be it. The Spring of Courage." Taking a step towards it, the princess focuses on the statue visible within the dragon's mouth. It sits, overlooking the spring, as countless durians oddly float around it upon the water's surface. The statue of Hylia wears a mask of its own: one that imitates the dragon-like face of the figures outside. She decides not to question this fact, for now, simply entering the forsaken yet sacred ground. Link's footsteps are more than audible following behind, which is rather expected. "Link–" The girl turns her head back to the peculiar stranger, "Thank you." Zelda is about to say more, but her words come to a sudden halt. Although their encounter was certainly strange enough, she could have sworn that the eyes of his mask… moved. This is the final detail it takes for her to redirect the course of her words. The princess takes a deep breath, then makes her decision: "There is something I must do here, but… Link, once I am done, may I speak to you for a while longer?"

Thank you for reading! Check out the first concept doodles of them here! Obviously, this is all very incomplete; but most is planned out thoroughly! If you have questions, just ask!

Art Info: (Check my art blog @nocturnalfandomartist!)

Program: Ibis Paint X

Time Elapsed: 7 hours, 27 minutes

[an-online-journal-of-nothing]

The world around me has always been ablaze.

From the very first moment my eyes opened, they stung and filled with tears—not from the blinding lights of the hospital room, but from the smoke that clung thick in the air.

My cries were not just the cries of a newborn but echoes of a world already burning.

My tender feet, unsteady and small, have always felt the scorching heat below them. The ground, never cool, never kind.

The flames that loomed above me as a child still rise, fierce and unyielding, their tongues licking the sky—casting long, twisting shadows over the years I’ve lived. I once believed, perhaps naively, that they might dim, that time would teach the fire to retreat. But here I stand, two decades later, and still they burn—just as fierce, just as untamed.

I have known of war, of tragedy, of loss, and of injustice for as long as I have known how to speak. These words aren’t confined to textbooks or history; they are etched into the marrow of my bones, written into the fabric of my being, as if the world itself inscribed guilt into my DNA.

Pain is the universal language, whispered to me from every corner, woven into the silence between breaths.

I am drowning in the cries of a world gasping for life—its grief shouted from rooftops, its agony glowing like embers on our screens, its suffering passing me by in the faces of strangers on the street. What was once the distant tragedy of past generations now stands at our doorstep, pressing its face to the windows of our homes, uninvited and unrelenting. These tragedies were once historical lessons, but now, they are the pulse of the present.

We carry the grief of others—strangers whose names we’ll never know, whose faces we’ll never see. Their pain has become our own, stitched into the fabric of our hearts. A burden we never asked for, yet one we bear nonetheless.

Since our first breath, we’ve learned to carry suffering like a second skin.

And so, we turn to each other, reaching out in the darkness for hands to hold, for arms to embrace, seeking comfort in the fragile solace we find there. We laugh at the absurdity of it all, casting light into the shadows because what else can we do? If we don’t, the flames inch closer, licking at our already scarred and calloused heels. And we are labeled—rude, unfeeling, childish—by those who lit the fire in the first place.

How else can we survive the weight of it all?

If we stare too long into the flames they started, let the fire grow too real, we risk burning alongside the world we’re so desperately trying to navigate.

Here we stand now, the inheritors of a world in ruins. We’ve been handed an empty extinguisher, told to face the inferno with nothing but hollow words of luck and fleeting hope.

And every time we fill buckets with water, drawn from the wells we’ve dug with our own hands, they light another fire, insistent that the way we choose to extinguish it would also destroy everything they have built. They refuse to see that even once they’ve turned to ash, we’ll still be left to burn.

The fire rages on, uncaring, and we, standing in its midst, are left to find our way through the smoke—a haze that blurs the line between destruction and survival.

But the flames do not relent, and neither can we.

We walk through the fire, searching for a way to remain whole, to keep ourselves from becoming the ash that the winds of this burning world carry away.

I Was Born into a World Ablaze an-online-journal-of-nothing

[alice-angel12x]

Epel x Death Reader Pt. 1.5

Part 1 Here (Harveston event)

While Epel's grandmother was explaining the rules to his friends, he was too busy having his mind blown. Knowing that his closest friend and schoolmate is also his town's founder. He sat on the side as he watched Y/n Death and the mayor have a friendly conversation. The mayor talking about Harveston's long and amazing history. Which Epel now knows that Y/n was there to witness.

"Anyway, long story short, we can't participate in the race this year," The Mayor sighed.

"WHAT IN TARNATION?!" Marja shouted, causing everyone to flinch.

"I know we're going to disappoint the townsfolk, and I'm very sorry about that," The mayor sighed.

"Well, there's nothing you can do about an injury. We'll do our best to place as high as we can," Epel spoke up.

"THAT AIN'T GONNA CUT IT! "As high as you can"?! Ah don't think so! It's first place or nothin', bub!" Marja shouted.

"Our goalpost has just shifted considerably," Jade commented.

"We can't just let a team full o' non-locals win! If the mayor can't do it, then it's up to you boys! No ifs, ands, or buts! Is that clear?!" She scolded.

"But you're being unreasonable, Grandma! I'm the only one on my team who's ever sledded before!" Epel tried to reason.

"QUIT SPLITTIN' HAIRS! Ya can't write off somethin' as impossible before ya even try! You'll never grow an apple tree or get any apples if'n ya don't sow the seeds!" Marja said.

"That's one scary granny," Grimm commented.

"Your animals are sittin' in the assembly hall, so go an' get 'em, toot sweet! Get a move on! You boys ain't got a minute to spare! You'll need all the practice you can get!" She ordered.

She started to train the boys to be #1 in the sled competition. Y/n watched silently as Marja instructed them. Y/n smiles as they remembered Marja as such a competitive little girl. And even after all these years, she did not lose that spark.

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While the boys practiced, Y/n decided to walk about the town and visit the hollow grounds of the past. Y/n lightly walked on the snow as they passed many graves, slowly passing many generations. Till she got to the very first, where her friend lay, with the rest of the first children of Harveston.

"You did well all of you," Y/n smiled softly at the gravestones around them. "Oh and some students From RSA are also competing."

"What?!" The boys gasped.

"And from what I observed, they are pretty skilled. Make sure to bring your A-Game," Y/n smiles.

"HAAAH?! As if we'd lose to the likes of Royal Sword Academy! THE CHAMPIONS...ARE GONNA BE US!" Epel shouted.

"I cannot wait to see you emerge as champions," Y/n smiled.

Y/n smiles and happily listens to Epel as he showed them around the town. Showing off the apple lanterns and many other hand-crafted knick-knacks.

Till they finally returned to Epel's home, where Marja prepared a large barbeque feast for the boys and company. Y/n tried to politely turn down the meal. But the granny already set a plate for them. So Y/n had no choice but to sit down and partake in the food.

Sadly, if only they knew that Death was incapable of digesting food and does not eat. It was a rough couple of hours for Y/n as they sat as food... essentially just built up in the void of their body.

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At Dawn, the race was in full swing, as the crowds watched and cheered from the stands. Y/n Death stood from on top of the spectator booth and simply wished everyone a safe return.