Prompt 286

Danny doesn’t think his eyes have ever been so wide, half cradled as he was against the ghost of time, who was… much larger than he was when he had met him. Not as big as the ghost king, at least in height or bulk, but, he didn’t know, longer? Give him a break, he was exhausted and injured!

“Clockwork,” the ghost rasped, standing to their full height as an unreadable expression crossed over corpse-pale skin. “You look… well…” 

“Don’t you ‘look well’ me, Pariah Dark!” Clockwork spat, his cloak mostly covering Danny and look, he couldn’t help but to curl closer, it was nice and he was tired! It was soft, and warm, like what he thinks silk might maybe feel like, and comforting like a blanket straight out of the dryer. 

He blinked away dizziness, pausing in his idly petting of the bit of cloak in his hand when he realized he had missed a bit of the… argument? Conversation? It wasn’t a fight yet, but he wasn’t going to throw it out as a possibility. Ugh, his everything ached. 

“I saw all that you could become, all that you would become,” the time ghost’s claws- didn’t he have gloves before- gripped at his hair, crimson eyes practically smoldering. 

Danny looked between the two like he was watching a football game, eyes wide beneath his bangs and mouth parted in a small o of verging realization over what he was hearing. 

“And somehow-” Clockwork threw his hands up, cloak flaring from the motion. “I still fell in love with you like an idiot!” 

i hope death is like being carried to your bedroom when you were a child & fell asleep on the couch during a family party.

i hope you can hear the laughter from the next room

// Lilies Abounded

Haunted One, Ch. 2:

Father Must Love Him Dearly Indeed

Rating: M / The Dark Urge/Enver Gortash, The Dark Urge & Jaheira, The Dark Urge & Gorion's Ward / Ch. 2 of 4

A new chapter today! Of my Dark-Urge-as-the-son-of-Gorion’s-Ward origin story. We're still in 1456 DR, with a fifteen-year-old Valas, and in his perspective for the first time.

It looks like his home, Valas thinks. The same busy garden, two storeys, small windows, a pristine white, and much more modest than the grand manors spanning the nearby streets. The place he was born, where he knows the tilt of the floor and the texture of its walls as well as he knows himself. But as he reaches to go inside—there’s no handle on the door. When he goes to peer through the window, it’s boarded shut. They’re all boarded shut, no light bleeding through, and when he knocks a fist against the wood, louder, again, slams his shoulder into it and shouts, it doesn’t give way, and no one appears to let him in. He feels eyes on him and turns, embarrassed. He’d expected a member of the Watch, come to tell him to quiet down, or maybe, if he’s lucky, to take pity and help. But it’s a raven, its eyes beads of black, staring as it grasps the fence with sharp daggers for claws. Valas stares back, until he has to blink, and quiet unease skitters up his spine.

He looks away, and searches the ground—maybe the handle fell off, rolled somewhere into the plants?—until he sees again the raven’s eyes, steady contact through a puddle on the path. He takes an experimental step, and its gaze follows, like the paintings of Balduran in High Hall seem to, if you’re there alone or late at night. He looks back up, and it does, too, then back down to the stagnant water—still that stare. Fear it is, then. Valas takes a slow breath to still himself then startles forward, hoping to scare it into flight—but his step falters as his own reflection falls into view. It’s not his own his eyes that greet him, soft and vibrant violet, but black depths; hungry, vicious voids; the raven’s eyes peering out from his own face.

Keep reading on AO3.

I got sucked into the Aegon and Rhaenrya marriage scheme, and it's opened an entire different cans of worms this time

People say Aegon and Rhaenrya's marriage would solve the Dance of the Dragons but they'd be wrong and ignoring the obvious which is who between them would be settling for the consort title and who'd Viserys even set aside Rhaenrya as heir for Aegon(which he didn't do even in canon) if he allowed the marriage or who'd he make Aegon the consort or who'd he ignore the heir issue and let his silence imply everything for everyone to misinterpret. I mean to the Green team(Otto at front and center) it'd obviously be Rhaenrya but by the time Aegon comes of age, Rhaenrya would be firstly older and hopefully had secured a powerful political cemented over those long years which would make it more difficult for them to dispute her as heir or even if they do, they won't be able to take Kingslanding from her(unlike in canon but I feel that Alicent and Otto being able to secure the marriage from when she was younger who'd cause her to feel an even more oppresive pressure as the Green would gloat/be smug about their victory for the throne all through her younger years until she makes herself a problem for them)

The overarching problem would be what about Daemon?

I feel like Daemon and the Velaryons would then form another faction against them though cause that'd be like 3 dragons from Daemon, Baela(assuming the war starts before or once Rhaenrya finally marries Aegon and is pregnant so there's absolutely no chance for Daemon anymore, anyway by the time that happens the girls and their dragons should be all grown up) & Rhaena(assuming since her egg doesn't hatch, she could go claim a dragon from Dragonstone). Plus 2 dragons from Rhaenys and Laenor. And assuming Laena dies & Vhagar is lost as well, Daemon could then remarry and have other children who could claim Vhagar so that'd be 4-6 dragons against Team Green & Team Black(4-5 dragons from Green depending if Aemond gets Vhagar or another dragon plus Rhaenrya).

I feel like Daemon would try to start a war before Aegon and Rhaenrya had children so the count of the dragons would be more on his side and Team Black & Green wouldn't be able to use any children's marriages to lure people their way

And while the Green children could still marry any of Laena or Laenor's children or even Laena/Laenor if they don't marry, I don't think Corlys spite would allow that when Daemon is right there connected with Laena already with greatest closest chance than anyone else at that moment(5-6 vs 4-5 dragons fight) for the title of king if he won

The Targaryens especially in the Dance of the Dragons feel like a neverending circle of two snakes devouring each other, the earlier generations to the next generations, from parents to their childrens. The parents raising their children the only way they know how to until the children finally grow up and devour their parents because that's the only way they've ever known how to live

Like Minds (2006)

This was definitely a wild movie for a background watch while I did other stuff but like look at baby Tom!

USE LETTERS FROM YOUR MUSES FIRST NAME TO DESCRIBE THEIR PERSONALITY.

Loving Unpredictable Doting Genuine Empathetic Reserved

---

Justified Unsuspecting Loyal Intense Uncompromising Sly

Tagged by: @sheyearns (Had this in drafts, ewps. Big and late thanks! <3) Tagging: @thalassancharm (For Kairi), @bishonenprince (Getting to the tag you gave me shortly--), @etrobeauty (I'm sorry for the torture), @forgottenluck, @juwul, @unwaveringblade

Prompt 21:  The Fine Print

Prompt 21: Solution - FFXIV Write 2022 Characters:  Edarien and Seviere, with Louvel @louvel-roche​

The world illuminates in soft shadows and clouded memories when he delves into the abyssal layer. This flow of darkness and muted emotions intertwined with the waking world welcomes his presence with starving arms.  His is an old soul, worn into the darkness, embedded in the flow and spreading his mind out through the abyssal weave is a simple enough task.  Somewhere out there is a wounded wolf.

The first prick of light he finds belongs to the Moth.  White wings fluttering behind him and anxious hands patting over the second flicker of light.  He almost missed that life’s flame, wavering so thinly he wondered a moment if he was too late.  

Darkness seeps from beneath shadowy tree boughs and crooked roots, threads coalescing into a tall, lean form of a dark-haired duskwight.  Ash grey skin stretches over muscle and bones and crystalline blue eyes focus on the crumpled figure beneath the Moth’s hands.  The drape of shadow black robes cascade over his figure, stretching out like fingers behind him when he strides forwards the last few paces.

“Seviere.”  The mage murmurs, a hand falling firm on one of the bard’s shoulders.  “Help me carry him deeper.”  

The caverns are quiet and dim, filled with silent eyes watching the procession make their way far below the Shroud. The cavern they want is hidden beneath illusions and old magic, veils easily parting for the trio to admit them.  Here in this place lies a lake of dark water, shadow filled and glacier cold.  The water here doesn’t pour so much as it creeps black across the flesh.

The Moth and the Mage see their prize to the shore.  They remove the trappings of life from him, strip him of garments, weapons, and leave him bare on the stones with the water lapping at his feet.  The Moth steps back, his angelic voice rising in a song that fills the cavern, and echoes back creating a melody of blended voices.  

The Mage gathers the wolf into his arms, gaze sliding down the furred limbs, the wound weeping in his chest.  The slow rasp of his breath and the trickle of blood from his lips mark how little time they have left to complete this ritual.  He drags the wolf into the waters.  Dark hands rise to drag the body down.  The mage allows this, his figure bobbing effortlessly in the cloying lake.  

Water rushes into the wolf’s mouth and nose, into his ears, drowns him and obliterates any sense he had left to him.  Although the mage doubts the wolf’s ability for true awareness in his state.  In the end, he’s as much a creature of the abyssal dark as any of their clan was.  His service too needed to allow a simple bullet to reduce him to ash and dust.  The Mage’s voice joins the Moth’s song, power weaving through the words chanted by the pair.

Some wonder how the fine print on Priarch’s employment contracts reads as it does.  Life is a finite thing, isn’t it?  A soul merely vapor to return to the world as usable aether just like the body returns to the soil to enrich the next generation of life.  Wishful thinking most likely, a simple threat to remind them to not be idle while working.  So easy to laugh off and sign on the dotted line.  The gil is insanely good for an adventurer’s agreement.

But there in the darkness the Elders slumber no more.  Old things crawl out in recognizable skins with claws curved to wicked points and teeth hungering to add more to their devout.  Hear the call of their wolves and know the Hunter has awakened to do their bidding.

Now sign the contract.  The gil is insanely good.

Chapter 23 - 100 Little Deaths

“Where is she?” The frantic question picks up pieces of herself off the floor. Elena blinks her eyes open until they aren’t fuzzy anymore. In time to catch the look he exchanges with Mercy. Right before Elijah notices her. In an instant, she’s in his arms. He’s careful of her head. Too weak to support it herself, he keeps her head pressed comfortably to his chest. Her hands curl in front of her face. Her lips are stiff against the back of her hands. It stings where he touches her, but another wave crashes into her and she doesn’t care.

The black and grey have crept up to her second knuckle. It’s the last thing she notices before her eyes close.

Read here or here

More In the Seom shenanigans! We have a projector! And reading nook 🥰 also yes I couldn’t resist the outfit for tae I had to get it. I then preordered 2 of Hobis albums 2!!

OIAJIOGJOG HOBIS NO BUGS FACE AHAHAHAHA theyre so tinie and cute and sassy i luv them w all my heart 😔😔😔

𝕬𝖖𝖚𝖆 𝖍𝖆𝖉 𝖆 𝖋𝖊𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝕿𝖊𝖗𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖗𝖙 𝖜𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉 𝖗𝖊𝖕𝖑𝖞 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖜𝖆𝖞, 𝖎𝖙 𝖜𝖆𝖘 𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖜𝖆𝖞 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖗𝖞𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖙𝖔 𝖕𝖚𝖘𝖍 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖞𝖔𝖓𝖊 𝖆𝖜𝖆𝖞. Then again, the man had always been very cold..calculating. It was hard to tell exactly what he was thinking sometimes. Surrounded in so much mystery and yet Aqua couldn’t help but try and see the good, even in a man like him. It was always the same though, any hint of what he considered weakness wasn’t allowed, at least the ones that could bring Terra back.  Slowly, the woman placed the charm back into her pocket. Cerulean hues focused on his movements, with her Rainfall by her side. Every fiber in her body was screaming at her. If the key blade master could descend into darkness for Terra, she wasn't afraid to do so again if necessary.

 “I made a promise to bring Terra home. I fell to the deepest darkness.. For years, I was isolated from everyone I cared about. If I need to suffer through that again..so be it. I am going to bring Terra back, even if I need to knock sense into that thick skull of his.”

Anger had indeed been coursing through the blue haired woman's veins for years, but she always had control over it. Cracks slowly were forming, as that pain and rage radiated throughout her entire body. Could it be her time in the dark realm had gotten to her more than she had let anyone else know. What felt like years for Aqua was only a short amount of time for everyone else. 

Truthfully, she had felt abandoned at one point, figuring that as long as everyone else was safe in the realm of light that things would be fine. However, over time that slowly started to eat at her. Judgement becoming clouded, and heart slowly becoming pure ice. Most people probably figured the key blade master had always been distant, and for a time she had been. Slowly, time seemed to stall as she charged forward. Water droplets surrounding them, as key blades clashed against one another. 

“I will cast you out for good...” There was a slight edge to her voice, eyes piercing. Aqua knew how strong Terranrot was, he was one of the thirteen chosen. It was hard knowing she would have to fight Terra yet again, but she convinced herself this wasn’t the man she had trained with or cared about. It was someone else using his body. Not only that, but it made it a tad easier to handle facing off against the other. There was no hesitation now, she was ready to continue the fight that should’ve been ended years ago. 

There it was again, that ache inside her chest. This all could’ve been prevented if only she had been stronger. There were so many mistakes made during that time, and all she did was fuel the darkness inside Terra’s heart. He felt lost...angry, perhaps even a bit of hurt that she was chosen to be master. It was like she had once said, one key blade was enough to ruin any friendship. All Aqua wanted was to be the light that Terra and Ventus needed. To be their way finder in the darkness, but fate seemed to always tear them apart. 

“You have no right to talk about Ven.” The woman’s tone sounded agitated, as she pushed away from Terranort. Fighting the other head on was risky, which meant she might need to tap into the side of her. The darker part she was holding back since returning from the realm of darkness. Reaching up, Aqua’s hand rested against her chest. 

Breathe. 

The woman jumped up and swung her key blade at Terranort, casting a series of spells. They landed around him, almost like a warning shot, which was dangerous because she knew what the man was capable of. Piercing yellow eyes returned her stare. Terra was still in there. The other would eventually overcome Xehanort's control over his body if she kept lighting his way home. 

"I am fully aware of the type of man that you are, but I also know that Terra isn't going to give up either. You can try and say that darkness has consumed all of his heart, but as long as those who care for him keep lighting his way home. You will never know peace.” 

Aqua had already acknowledged that this battle would not be simple, but Terra was worth it. Even if she had to use her darker side, it would be fine. She kept telling herself that, but there was a tiny part of her that feared even using that kind of power once more might cause the light inside of her to dim. 

She sends a hail of blizzard in the other's direction by twisting her keyblade. Furthermore, she carried the burden of Terra's destiny on her shoulders. It was one of the many things that had been weighing on her heart for years. Jumping up, she charged at the other yet again, sparks flying around their key blades. Despite how adamant she sounded in her words, there was a hint of hesitation in the woman's eyes. 

“I will be his wayfinder in the darkness!!” shouted Aqua, as she cast thunder down around them. It missed, but her resolve was set, this would end one way or another. 

Terra, give me strength.

Reply continued from here

this trip home has been soooooo fjdlksaghdslka; i've started JOURNALING

ok fine I’ll therapize myself

in other news, i want the person who lit the thasmin hug to meet me in the damn Pit it is the worst lit scene you could comprehend at a Massive important moment for both of their characters and You Cannot See It. 

Lighten it on ps and you can still barely see it. 

🎧

https://open.spotify.com/track/3T7Yf24uj64Q7R38j7YvZX?si=d1dv86vjQ8GMuhD2Vp2RNA

"I lay and I crumble and pay for the price on your head"

This song is The Trouble by Birdeatsbaby. This one's one of my favorite songs from them :]

"After this night, she will never be the same.."

Sketch based on a Fera's backstory.

Behind the camera is an orphan house that is on fire. It is so cold outside. The path to the future is dark and unknown for her, but she is not scared anymore.

After after everything she's been through..

The collective cultural memory of the '60s suggests the decade was a safe haven for male femininity. Long hair on both genders abounds in retellings of the era—the hippie is a soft and shaggy archetype. But most of the imagery now associated with the '60s didn't arrive until the end of the decade. The United States was slow to metabolize shifting gender norms; years after the Beatles were televised into American homes, men could still catch flak for wearing their hair past their collars. "People would chase you for ten blocks, screaming, 'Beatle!' They were out of their fucking minds—that was the reality of the sixties," said artist Ronnie Cutrone. "Nobody had long hair—you were a fucking freak, you were a fruit, you were not like the rest of the world." Trans punk singer Jayne County similarly remembered getting flak in high school for growing her hair out like the Beatles. "I walked all the way [to the record store] and back and every once in a while somebody would yell out their car, 'Sissy!' or they'd yell, 'Look, it's Ringo!' because I had a little Beatles haircut and everything," she said. "Way back in the dark ages, when I was in high school, people still didn't know what gay or queer was or anything like that." That the word "Beatle" could ever have been used as a homophobic slur—that it fit right next to "sissy" in the vocabulary of bigots—seems outrageous by contemporary standards. In retrospect, the Beatles' gender transgressions look as tame as their innocent melodicism. But the Stooges grew up in an environment that punished deviations from normative masculinity, and being bored numb by their surroundings, they sought as much punishment as possible.

Sasha Geffen, Glitter Up the Dark: How Pop Music Broke the Binary