An Introduction To My Searing, Scorching, Blistering Original Characters.

An Introduction to my Searing, Scorching, Blistering original characters.

Wiljem:

"A stranger stared back at him [in the mirror] with a cold gaze and the beginnings of a beard. He traced the uncanny person’s face, from the sharp chin to the piercing cheekbones. It almost looked like a skeleton, with the near absence of cheeks. The only color on its face was in its intense eyes, but even there the color was dull."

A middle child made the oldest thanks to tragedy, Wiljem is Taher’s brother. He used to be quietly positive, a homebody who ignored responsibility. When his safety net, his family, was ripped away from him, he was thrust into a leadership position and was suddenly solely liable for Taher’s survival. On top of this, Taher reveals his abilities as an avatar of the sun. This is normal in their home country but something which is being persecuted after being conquered by a neighboring, much more powerful, country. He travels far away from all he used to know to protect Taher, and now must battle his mental health issues, their poverty, and Taher’s growing itch for independence.

Taher:

"Into the light of the room, illuminated with a few dozen candles, walked a boy with bright eyes and a sharp nose. His face was expressive, with his eyes soft, eyebrows raised, and lips suggesting a smile."

Taher was too young to know his parents when they were alive. He grew up on the move with his two older brothers, Wiljem and Tirakem, inching to the border of the newly conquered territory and, hopefully, to safety. His brothers shielded him so well from the horrors surrounding them, that he was able to mature properly. Then, only a couple days from the port that would take them far away, Tirakem got sick and passed quickly. In his grief, Taher let out the brilliant light of an avatar of the sun, which alerted the conquerors to his existence. Without Tirakem, Taher was hit full force with the reality of their situation. Now, comfortably out of the country for years, Taher pushes and prods at Wiljem to let go of the past and stop treating him like a child. When refused, he takes matters into his own hands. 

Liizesk:

"She was a shorter woman, with old scars painted across her body. Especially up her arms and by her nose, freckles stood out against the pale of her skin. She looked young, about Wiljem’s age. Maybe only a little bit older. Pale blonde hair was parted in the middle of her scalp, and ran down to just above her neck. It was cut at a sharp line. Precise."

Liizesk was a part of the high society of the colonizing country, a noblewoman. She spent her life being comfortable and doted on, described as the greatest beauty the country had seen in a long time. She was on the way up from her already high status. Then, she fell madly in love with another noblewoman. They got to know each other, slowly, and well within the confines of societal expectations. They both knew that they were in love. Soon, Liizesk got a marriage proposal from a promising prospect, but they had both agreed to become spinsters, so she turned it down. She was shunned, but she ignored it because she was happy. Or, she was, until she found out that her lover had not turned her proposal down. Furious and ostracized, Liizesk confronted her. The other noblewoman apologized profusely and shared that she was only going to be married to him for a year in order to get enough money for Liizesk and her to run off together and live comfortably. For a year, Liizesk waited. She never came. Who came instead? The police, accusing her of homosexuality. She fled, and now has a seething fury beneath her eyes always. She joined and clawed her way to the top of the black market to keep herself safe.

Rahn:

"The right half of their body was tan, small and infrequent cicatrices running up their body. Their left side, however, was horribly blackened with scars. They looked charred. Running from their fingertips to their shoulder, up their neck and to their face, it looked as if someone had left them in the oven for too long."

Born of an unwilling marriage between a colonizing soldier and a colonized avatar of the dark, Rahn’s mother hid them in the dark’s domain, a forest that colonizers were too afraid to enter. Rahn was raised by the souls of their ancestors buried there. About a decade later, the colonizing country realized they could weaponize the dark by torturing avatars of said magick. Rahn had to flee and worked with the ancestors to try and stop the dark from becoming dangerous or engulfing towns that wouldn’t survive it. Each time, the angry and confused dark domain stained more and more of their body. When they were near death, getting weaker every day, their family forced them away to forge their own path. Lonely, they made quick friends with Aire and Liizesk and now participated in the black market to keep themself from being too bored and to use their magick on the down low. 

Aire: 

"Tall and muscular, the voice belonged to a towering man. Only barely shorter than Wiljem, he held himself straight-backed and confidently. He had blue-inked tattoos all over his body. Waves on his arms, sweeping, detailed designs along his chest, and smaller symbols on his neck. Within some tattoos, there seemed to be sentences written in a language [Wiljem] couldn’t understand."

Aire lived on a string of islands largely untouched by the main colonizing country for a long time. He enjoyed his community, a large family of interconnected clans. Days were usually warm and the ocean was cold. Honesty, selflessness, and positivity were the pillars of his life. The islands wherein he lived held the perfect environment for planting a specific plant that the colonizing country had run out of space for. Once discovered, the islands were ransacked. Of course they fought and tried to discuss and grieved, the wars waged for 6 years. But, Aire’s people cared about their people more than the land, while the colonizers were willing to throw away thousands of lives for the cause. So, they lost. They were given to the next full moon to leave or assimilate. Aire was one of the last to leave and a raging storm separated him from his community. Making friends at his new harbor where they had agreed to meet if they lived, he is a part of black market to support Liizesk and Rahn. 

Jeb: 

"The young, dark haired Jeb responded, letting a lazy smirk rest on their face comfortably. Leaning against the bar casually, they looked towards Wiljem. With that flash of teeth and dimples, the overwhelming screams of loosing bets faded away."

Jeb grew up in this country, in this massive port city. He was raised in the orphanage, never adopted, and now spends his time oscillating between his 3 jobs and sleeping, with the occasional lover joining him in the bed. He is a caring and intuitive person who is never quite looking past tomorrow. He met Wiljem on a cold night and was immediately smitten. The two dance around each other, unsure what the other wants, while Jeb worries about Wiljem’s wildly fluctuating moods and memory. 

Tirakem:

"Tirakem had more freckles than [Wiljem] did. While Wiljem preferred helping around the house, Kemmie was out in the sun, playing and adventuring more often. He was older, too, and he refused to cut his hair. As it got longer over the years, it lost some of its curl to the weight of it. He also had more scars, known to be less careful than any of his family members. But, it strengthened him."

Tirakem was the firstborn of the family and spent his days running through the hills by the house, following foxes to rivers and collecting rocks. He was always dirty, cut, and smiling. When Wiljem was born, he channeled that energy into protection, bringing home berries to eat and sticks to stoke the fire with. His parents only trusted him with the information that Wiljem was an avatar of the moon, but to keep it quiet as the war marched ever closer, even from the boy himself. When the next boy was born, Tirakem was training to fight. But, when the time came, he was too late. His parents were slaughtered, but he was ready to take on the role of guardian as his father gave him instructions on how to flee and the knowledge that Taher was an avatar as well, of the sun. Stressed constantly and selfless to a fault, a virus latched onto him and ate at him for months before becoming evident a few days from the border. His last thoughts were sorrow, that he could not do what he promised his father, and glee, to see his parents again.

Flame

A word vomit about c!quackity and how he interacts with the world

Word count: 510

The flame was calling out to me like a siren’s song

Warm and inviting

Bright, inspiring

Glass floors and glass windows

Watching the sun come and go

A Bobeche is reaching out to me like a martyr, caught up in an age-old war

Looked into your eyes, unfamiliar gold pooling there

The rain bore down on my skin, mixed with my blood sweat and fucking tears

This whole time, I fought for you while you were forgetting me all along.

I’ve done things a monster couldn’t fathom

I am cruel. I am curt. I am undeserving.

The axe in my hands speaks, judge jury and executioner

Standing at the grave of an enemy, in death I envy you

You travel beyond the turbulence of your mistakes

I’ve scared a lot of people

Don’t know if that counts as hurting.

Or maybe I just failed at the hurting part, only intimidating before they call my bluff

Small boxes and sprawling skylines, chasing a feeling of home I never had

Going through the motions, just to look back and say I did

This all feels so familiar, i’ve smelled this candle before

Left burning while everyone goes out to a party

Stuck.

But, not stuck alone. No.

Surrounded by things to find pleasure in.

And yet, everything I touch burns instead of smiling

Is there anything more gratifying than taking a few papers, a table, a dream, a child down with you as you plummet?

Maybe it’s because the candle is worried that no one will notice if it blows out.

People will notice a house fire, though.

The candle won’t be blamed. The candle has no feelings. The candle is only an extension of the lighter, that is an extension of the person holding the lighter.

Lighter, touch me. If I am going to burn, let it be a pretty match to set me off. Oh, how I’ve watched you rust and peel, Lighter. You are not the shiny thing you once were. But, that potential for destruction has always burned inside you. Just had to squint your eyes, and we look the same.

You light a cigarette and sit next to me. You tell me what you want. I tell you what I need. Never the same things.

I am sick. I am sick and twisted probably, so far gone. I have never been lower before, will never be higher again.

You, Lighter, you find purpose in me. And I find satisfaction in you, and a quicker death.

I will never envy you, Lighter.

I will die. You will become useless, still alive but without purpose. You will sit by my grave, jealous of travel beyond the turbulence of mistakes.

Oh, Bobeche, catching my scalding wax. I am sorry that I bleed out into you

We are tied to each other, stuck like a candle to a candlestick.

I know that I am hurting you, I know that I should conserve myself.

But, it is Warm and inviting

Bright, inspiring

Drawn to the Lighter like a moth is to a

I entangle our fingers, intertwined. The forest is alive and the sun is awake. I stay still and the smell of pine saunters past me, not paying me any mind, but there nonetheless. I look at you as you are engulfed by the earth, your hands are so spiky. It’s a fucking scarecrow again.

A Lighthouse and a Void

A literary analysis of how the song Mine/Yours by Wilbur Soot and C!Beeduo interact

⚠️Trigger warnings: Unhealthy relationship dynamics, mentions of alcoholism, and implied mistreatment of spouse bordering on abuse⚠️

Word count: 2338

Why must I feel numb?

Tubbo has worked so hard to cultivate a life for himself that he enjoys, and yet still feels unsatisfied. Although he surrounds himself with people he should relish the company of and peace and prosperity and animals that used to make him happy, he continues to feel like he needs more. Like there is something missing. Like he is numb.

I’ve done what I’ve done.

Both Ranboo and Tubbo have done things they are not proud of, that eat away at their conscience no matter how much they try to convince themselves otherwise. Ranboo and George’s house, Tubbo’s traitorous actions during times of war. They both feel like they have turned their backs on Tommy, Ranboo is constantly lost and conflicted. To try and gain some peace, they both pretend as though the past doesn’t bother them. What is done is done, and they shouldn’t dwell on it.

I’ve taken the cues on what I’m supposed to do.

Ranboo is very confused during social interactions, prioritizing their own values over the unwritten rules of communication. Though they try to bend said values in order to gain Tubbo’s favor and trust, having next to no one else to talk to, they are still lost on what to do. So, they look to Tubbo to give them cues on what they’re supposed to do, idolizing his ease in which he navigates conversations in an unhealthy way.

I heave the issue.

Tubbo attempts to ignore his issues, no matter how heavy or inconvenient it would be to do so. Hence, he heaves large issues away, trying to forget them. This not only causes him to bottle up feelings that influence his decisions from his brain’s shadows, but makes it hard for him to communicate said emotions to others.

The narrative’s doomed when I’m holding the pen throttling you.

Tubbo controls the story that Ranboo gets, as when Ranboo forgets something it is Tubbo that reminds him. Perhaps omitting his own mistakes, he paints himself in the best possible light for Ranboo. Thus, their relationship is doomed to fall apart and then come back together. Secondly, Ranboo also writes his own notes about Tubbo in his memory book. As Tubbo is dependent on Ranboo’s love, whatever Ranboo writes and thus whatever Ranboo feels towards Tubbo, greatly affects how Tubbo views himself and his worth.

You never liked me when drunk.

Taking after his father and enemy, Tubbo takes up drinking to escape his overwhelming emotions. This scares Ranboo, seeing as he relies on Tubbo so much and observing him being unpredictable and dangerous when his memory book tells him that this is unlike Tubbo is unsettling. Makes him question everything, and yet Tubbo knows he can do anything he wants and Ranboo won’t remember. This makes him do more and more minacious things.

I start to believe you never liked me at all and so I agree.

Both of them, on their own, come to the conclusion that the other doesn’t love them for who they are, but for what they can give to them. Tubbo treats Ranboo like a void to scream into, Ranboo treats Tubbo like a lighthouse to follow blindly. At the same time, they both have low self esteem and hate or are unsure of their own identities. This understanding that they hide from the other is one of the few things they have in common.

So I’ll say “fuck you” because I know if I don’t I’ll probably say something stupid and true.

Tubbo’s recklessness when it comes to Ranboo’s emotions is unsafe for the both of them. Confused with how he thinks he should feel and what he is actually feeling, there are long stretches of time when Tubbo refuses to give or receive affection. Whether it is because he feels betrayed by Ranboo, because he feels guilty, or because of some other reason we are not shown, he always seems to blame Ranboo. This is due to Tubbo’s view of Ranboo, as being a void to need near him rather than a full person in his own right.

Stand just out of reach of your fist.

What Tubbo doesn’t realize is that if he repeats an action enough times, Ranboo will begin to remember it. The same way Ranboo knew Tommy was a friend or that Philza was kind no matter how long it had been since they last saw each other, Ranboo slowly realizes that he is Tubbo’s scapegoat. Although fully aware that he is unsafe near Tubbo, he has nowhere else to go. Nowhere else he’s ever known. So, he stands just out of reach of his fist, but close enough to touch.

Take myself away.

After a while of everything festering, they both find things to keep themselves busy. Ranboo and The North, Tubbo and the nukes. The more time they spend apart, the longer their marriage will last. Even when they are together, mentally they are somewhere else. Thinking about Michael or revenge or experiments, they are never in the same place even when they are laying in the same bed.

The gangrenous limb.

Ranboo finds that Tubbo and the child they had together and the certainty that their life used to provide, no longer makes him content. He begins isolating himself, traveling longer, losing himself in his own thoughts and worries. It feels like his blood flow, his very heart and soul, has been cut off from him. He has to come to terms with the fact that the man he married and loved and devoted himself to is not who he once thought.

Dance around the subject, a figure of eight

Sitting across the dinner table, standing next to each other on the balcony, laying beside one another in their bed, they are losing the familiarity they once had. The final reason they could still feign love was their history together. Now, with Ranboo fearing that they will again fall into their cycle that takes advantage of his tragedy and Tubbo desperately trying to bring it back, they are simultaneously nowhere near the same page but reading the same unhealthy book.

Describe all the parts of me I’m yet to break.

Ranboo is scrambling to find any proof that Tubbo once loved him. Desperately trying to see if Tubbo knows his favorite flower, color. If he knows why Ranboo hates the nether but loves obsidian. He is holding onto hope that his version of Tubbo is real, just buried deep within his frosty exterior.

Count all the parts of me, I’m yet to break.

Tubbo, on the other hand, has continued to drown in his work. Telling himself that he is building the nukes to protect Ranboo, he is trying to convince a god he doesn’t believe in that he is not guilty. Maybe he did love Ranboo once. There must have been some moment, when they were truly happy. For that reason, he is yet to break from Ranboo and thus the last vice-like grip he has onto his past life.

Recount all the parts of me I’m yet to break you.

Both halves of this tragic coupling are desperately searching for love and companionship. They are sure that their relationship can be salvaged. And yet, even in this new found hope, they are not doing it for the other’s sake no matter how much they say otherwise. They both don’t know how to be happy without the other. They haven’t been happy in years but the last time they were, was when they were together. They try to safeguard the other’s feelings, because if the other breaks, they surely will too.

Kiss me like it was your job, so tender and carefully, teeth before tongue.

(I wanna be yours)

And yet, nothing changes. Tubbo continues to kiss Ranboo as though it is an obligation, not a privilege. Scared to lose him and scared to have him, Tubbo performs his duties to Ranboo as though reading a checklist as opposed to loving someone. He gives Ranboo everything he believes he needs except genuineness behind the actions. At the same time, Ranboo can’t let go. All Ranboo wants is to feel loved and wanted again, he screams to Tubbo with his lingering touches that he “wants to be yours”, more than he wants to be his own person. A long time ago, this would’ve been exactly what Tubbo wanted, but now he feels guilty whenever he uses Ranboo, preferring to be detached over the crushing blame of Ranboo’s scared eyes.

And not in the way that the romantics do.

He knows he needs more, but he doesn’t know how to say it. Tubbo never taught him that, and he relies on Tubbo for everything. Maybe Tubbo should have done them both a favor and never showed Ranboo what true happiness and love and peace felt like. They could’ve lived in bliss, one content with unhappiness and the other oblivious. And yet, unfortunately for the pair, there had been love there once.

With the grace of a workplace and child dispute.

(I wanna be yours)

When they kiss, Ranboo can see Tubbo check a duty off of his mental list while they used to lock eyes and only see each other. With Tubbo lost in work and Ranboo observing his mannerisms from the outside, he realizes that Tubbo uses the same vocabulary talking to his coworkers as he does to Ranboo, his husband. When asked about their situation through the way Ranboo ate and talked and slept, Tubbo avoided it with corporate professionalism. Even discussions about their real, alive child were coated in a tone one uses when discussing tasks they were assigned to do against their own will. And yet, there is this longing still, to fix what is broken because what else is there?

You know, I don’t need much more.

Ranboo has lived with Tubbo this whole time, and loved him under all his fear no matter what Tubbo threw at him. He would be content with the occasional hug or single apology. He doesn’t need much, but he does need more. He is rotting away like a corpse, so slowly, starved of anything worth living for for so long. He doesn’t know any other way but, god up in heaven, if Tubbo called out to him from the darkness where they lost themselves, he would follow it to the ends of the earth.

I want to be mine.

Keeping these discoveries from Tubbo, about who they are to each other, has finally allowed him to grow and nurture thoughts independent from Tubbo’s influence. This fascinating new discovery is enticing. He wants to know more about himself and who he really is. The idea of being his own person, thing, object; whatever he is, a part of him is curious. He mourns the loss of himself knowing that he can wish for something like this but it will never come to fruition.

Wanna be yours.

Ranboo will never let go of Tubbo. Above everything he could ever want for himself, he cherishes Tubbo like a priest cherishes a church. Cleaning and perfecting oneself in the hope that some greater thing you don’t understand will reach out and save you. He has only ever been Tubbo’s. He knows nothing else. Every thought that races through his head, every step his padded feet take, everything his mismatched eyes see, they all trace back to Tubbo. He wants. No, needs Tubbo more than words can do justice. Like a sunflower needs the sun, turning away from Tubbo is certain death. Death of love? Death of hope? Death of peace and contentment? Prosperity? Reciprocation? He doesn’t dare find out, and follows Tubbo out of the storm as though Tubbo is a lighthouse, knowing that the shards of rock at the dock will tear Ranboo to shreds. Anything to get a step closer to his only love.

You know, I don’t need much more.

Tubbo has gone through so much, he has begun to give up on everything that used to drive him. Anger, revenge, resentment, guilt, all lost to him. He feels weak and exhausted, he needs to feel loved. If only for a moment he could take all of his walls down and truly be seen and cared for by someone, he could finally slow down and rest. He has been running his whole life, he doesn’t think it will ever stop. But, just the thought of giving himself up to vulnerability is enough to make him sick to his stomach. His fear jolts him like an adrenaline rush, and he keeps pushing knowing that he doesn’t need much to let go of the marathon.

I want to be mine.

Tubbo has always been on his own, he wants to hold on to this sacred privilege. In a world where he has been thrown around by one war to the next, one dictator to the next, one ungrateful friend to the next, he has always found comfort in knowing exactly who he is. Knowing exactly what he wants to do, what he needs. He is the opposite of Ranboo, never able to let go of himself in order to hold someone else.

Wanna be yours.

And yet, even with how much his individuality means to him, Tubbo is still chasing after that famed intimacy called romantic love. He wants warm fireplaces and bright blushing and the ache from smiling too hard and the bruising of lips being kissed with passion. He feels an overwhelming responsibility for his own lack of love, because it is true. Even with love laying next to him with open arms, he cannot take its hand. He wants to be Ranboo’s, he wants to be someone’s. Is it because he needs to be cared for or because the thought of missing out on something so close is eating at him? The idea that he lost a happy ending because of his own selfishness plagues him at night, when he wants nothing more than to be hugged.

I take you for granted because the alternative is far more alarming.

What is a moon, but a reflection of the light from a sun?

What is a sun, with no moon to shine upon?

Orbiting but never touching, without the other they are nothing.

Guys im so normal about the wild robot (i cried so hard i had a meltdown)

No but the way the longer the movie goes on the dirtier and mossier Roz gets so at the end it look like she has fur?!

Life Before You

Word vomit about Wilbur telling Tallulah a scary story

Content Warning: Suspense, allusion to insanity, self harm, and child abuse

(not intense)

Word Count: 245

🌊🌱🌠

Don’t look at me like that, little one

You have no idea what I’ve done

It was a cave, of course it echoed

Sometimes it felt so loud, even with just the two of us

Like there was a crowd, repeating ourselves back to us

Our agreements were as loud as our disagreements

Divots in walkways and winding paths

It felt hollow there, there were things missing

There was no space for us in the natural curve of the walls, we made space though

The dirt under my fingernails and my callouses filled me up

Satisfied me, softened the cruel blade of hunger that I ran up and down my skin

Guilt and hope fought in my chest, like savage animals

They agreed loudly on anger, though

On revenge

On destruction, one way or another

When surrounded by anger or grief, anger felt more inviting

My eyes were stuck open, my walking was staggered

My insides burned, I decided to throw a match down the hatch to char and numb it all up

And I left them. Alone. I should feel bad about it, I should’ve tried to fix it.

All I felt was pity.

I felt above them, tiny things in my hand

It was the act of a coward.

Only a naive fool is happy when he dies.

Being a martyr only works when you stay dead.

What?

Of course I’m making it up.

I didn’t live before you, young one.