#Starless Dreams

[powderseas]

im still here

[the-anxious-acrobat]

Celia Bowen is such an amazing character omg. She’s intelligent, and mysterious, and hilariously funny. She’s theatrical. She has anger issues. She loves tea. She yearns. She’s full of love, and she’s full of trauma. She had a really tough childhood. She carries the anger of the women before her. She is constantly scared of breaking things and not being able to fix them. She’s tragic. She is both disaster and miracle. She’s powerful. She’s exhausted all the time. She is always trying to hold things together and lives with the fear of her world falling apart and losing the people she cares about and the people caught up in the game. She’s stubborn. She loves books. She’s lonely. She is hard to reach. She longs to be free. She suffers because of her parents and their own tragedies. She has a monster of a father. She isn’t used to being loved and doesn’t know what to do when she is loved. She cares so deeply about people. No one knows the extent of which she is trying to keep everything together. She suffers from heartbreak and from lack of sleep. She loves birds, especially doves and ravens. She’s always observing people. She’s always trying her hardest. She’s so complex and interesting. I love her so much <3

[bookoflovingghosts]

currently reading

[therefugeofbooks]

some queer adults books i enjoyed reading last year ✨️

[webaloo]

I made her buff by accident... but it looks cool so idc!! (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧

[old-antecedent]

I Am So Glad Miraak Is Dead

Allow me to preface this with my condolences. I believe many of you have been beguiled by Miraak's charming voice, rugged looks, and general intelligence. I understand why this has attracted you to him. There is a reason I chose him as my champion. But all things come to an end, and there is a very good reason Miraak could not be allowed to live. For my part, it is as I have said before. He would not have been under my control if he were to leave Apocrypha, and I find that unacceptable. A reason for you to require Miraak's death is also available, should my desires not be enough. This reason is convoluted, but I shall simplify it for your understanding and for expedience. It is laid as bare as possible in the verse Miraak forced upon the minds of Solstheim's residents. Here in his shrine That they have forgotten Here do we toil That we might remember ... And when the world shall listen And when the world shall see And when the world remembers That world will cease to be I have highlighted only the relevant passages here. The verse has no end, and the last line shown leads into the first. In recognizing this, you now realize that Miraak has cast himself and his shrine for a key role in some sort of Mundus-destroying plot. A perfect reason to kill him. But many have had similar intent and been dissuaded, or somehow redeemed otherwise. Miraak's schemes are too involved to dissuade him of. They revolve around the All-Maker of the Skaal. The Skaal are a truly ancient branch of nordic culture, isolated from the world and its influences since the time of Ysgramor. Their beliefs have, as such, twisted upon themselves to the point of being unrecognizable to an untrained observer. Of most important note is the All-Maker, a unique figure found in the Skaal religion. Now, you must understand that before their secrets were given to me by old Crag-Strider, the Skaal's beliefs were... fuzzily-defined in Apocrypha. (The Aldudaggavelashadingas were, at the time, still lost to the whole of the Aurbis. No one had them, and so no one could use them to trace the lineage of the Skaal's beliefs. At current they reside only in Apocrypha.) Point being, Miraak did not know much about the beliefs of the Skaal. He assumed and jumped to conclusions. Knowing that the Skaal were animistic rather than worshipping a specific deity, he believed the All-Maker to be a blend of Doom Drum and Aka-Tusk. Doom Drum as the shaper of the Mundus and Aka-Tusk as the material of which the Mundus is comprised, through being the soul of Anuiel. Knowing how the world was created, he intended to have his temple (in the shape of a wheel with the tallest All-Maker stone at the center, how clever) mantle the Mundus, himself mantle its grand architect/materials, and close out the kalpa as the newly ascended world-eater and god of Men. He would then create a new world of his own make. This is where his little poem found its memory theme. When the world remembers the All-Maker as he believed the Skaal knew it, the world will be forced to see him as the All-Maker in his little shrine. And since the shrine is designed to mantle the Wheel, the world can be ended through Miraak eating the stone his shrine is made of, I suppose. "That world will cease to be / Here in his shrine", because his shrine is the world. Unsurprisingly, Miraak was incorrect about the All-Maker. It is more a blend of Sithis and Doom Drum, and so he would not have been able to achieve his goals as he had structured them. But this inevitable defeat does not mean he did not have to die. The sort of man who will spend aeons scheming to become the ruler and destroyer of all reality for his own gratification is not the sort of man you want running around, no matter who he associates with. It was in everyone's best interests to kill him.

[rewirenova]

Between the release of ASC Shadow and the TOH finale, I would like to formally apologize in advance for the person I'm going to become at the start of April

[autumnalwalker]

A Dream About An Endgame 

I am in a place that resembles a cross between used bookstore and antique shop.  The labyrinthine aisle meander and loop around for what must be miles at least. Books and knickknacks cover every shelf, island, and table; so many that some are forced to pile up on the floor.  The materials and level of the flooring varies, but at the moment I am standing at the bottom of a small flight of five or six steps in an area with orange-ish clay shards for pavement.

I am helping several of the gathered people realize who they are.  This place has grown crowded over the past few hours with confused people that could be reasonably mistaken for cosplayers.  Not necessarily what one would normally accurate cosplayers as they capture the spirit of characters more than their “canonical” appearance.  They are, in fact, the characters themselves in truth, although it is only slowly dawning on them as the final act approaches. 

I finish sorting out this group - especially tricky as there are several versions of the same character from different retellings present - and move on.  There is someone I hope to find before everything ends. 

Besides the characters, there are a handful of others present, avatars of broad archetypes and natural forces, the child heroes whom everything rests on, and the Sulfurs and Thistles.  The Sulfurs and Thistles are something like guardians and caretakers of this place.  I am unclear on the distinction between them, but there seems to be an incomplete overlap between them and the archetypes.

And then there is me, an interloping outsider who should not be here.  This is not my first visit to this place, but for everyone it is their last.  I have come to learn that one of the Thistles is my true mother. 

I catch sight of one of the Seasons (Spring, not Autumn as I’d hoped but still a friend), call out to her, and begin walking with her through the winding aisles.  She shifts between forms of animal and human fluidly as a dream.  I have already done the most important duty entrusted to me and guided the young heroes to the places that they must begin from, so now I have a few short hours left for my personal pursuit.  My constant stopping to help the characters realize who they are is honestly unnecessary by this point.  They’ve already begun to congregate into groups of heroes and villains.  As Spring and I pass by I catch snippets of dialogue as they begin to recite their lines in remixed recreation of iconic-and-now-intersecting scenes.  My heart is lifted as I recognize a handful of characters that I know will switch from the side of the villains to the side of the heroes when their moments come.  I stop to pet a statue of a cute creature for luck and Spring admonishes me for falling behind and nearly knocking a set of small glass animals off a shelf.  

We both know that elsewhere in this place - far from here but not too far - the end has already begun.  Floors are flooding and the ceiling and walls are cracking open into a nothingness that consumes all in a terrible wind.  What kind of world comes next after everything resets will depend on the young heroes.

Spring and I find a nice quiet place to rest and wait for the young heroes to find us (find her) or not.  I begin to ask her about a Graysonthistle.  Or maybe a Gaylordthistle.  I cannot properly recall the name, only that it it started with a “G” and contained an “ay”.  I am cut off by the arrival of a Thistle dressed in the image of an elven forest warrior in green-and-brown leather armor and war paint. 

I recognize her although she does not recognize me.  The last time I was here (several years ago) I stood out in my beige slacks and navy blue corduroy jacket she found cute for all that she didn’t want me here.  Now, in my gold-trimmed dress with my crook of living wood, I easily pass as a Sulfur or Thistle, or even an archetype.  Perhaps the Junior Spring or Autumn.

The Thistle asks Spring about a question that’s been bugging her.  Not that it really matters this close to the end, but she would like to slake this last bit of curiosity while she still has the time.  A Sulfur whom she trusts to be unfailingly accurate issued a notice some time back to apprehend a certain interloping outsider who somehow managed to sneak into this place not once but twice.  The part she can’t understand is that the detection report registered the intruder as being male last time but female last time.  She hopes that Spring can clear this up for her and maybe even help her find the outsider.

Spring laughs at fated serendipity. 

I smile and prepare to introduce myself to my mother.

[thehauntedair]

Dreams

 Dreams are powerful things in the starless sea. The line between sleeping and waking blurs. Sometimes dreams really do come true.

A pirate sailing the honey seas on a ship of dreams.

A man lost and found outside of time.

A king whose kingdom has yet to be born.

An innkeeper who loves the moon and is loved in return.

A man who weaves stories together as easy as breathing.

A son of the fortune teller who believed enough to open a painted door.

Fate who fell in love with Time again and again.

And Time, who is always waiting.

—————————————————

Via @booksarentfood

[catilinas]

hey um please drop the linc to the cicero jr/octavian fic. please thank you

here u go

[entwinedreams]

OC BIRTHDAYS!

beaulieu siblings

ariane, december 12th jason, march 2nd andromache, april 22nd selene, feb 21st

rhiannon stellaro, oct 22nd.

salem mocchain, june 7th.

yukimura emi, august 30th.

iwakura yuko, april 4th.

imogen drosselmeier, may 1st.

viktoriya passerine, march 1st.

alaia d’aramitz, dec 24th.

mina shräder, november 29th

[the-anxious-acrobat]

[cpirits]

(( 𝐓𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐 || @saintuxrio said: [ "I'm attracted to boys but at what cost?" - Kiki @ Mu ]

★ ━━━━━━ "BABE!! Get out here, we need to have a talk with Kiki!" He motioned for Kiki to sit next to him as they waited for Aldebaran to appear. It was time to discuss things with Kiki.

[daemonduality]

Unfortunately, I didn't come back for vacation reasons.

I've been investigating a series of strange events involving a chain letter.

For those who don't know what it is, a chain letter is a letter you recieve that requests you send it to a number of people in exchange for something. Some chain letters will say something good will happen if you complete this while others state something bad still happen if you don't. It's the equivalent of seeing a "reblog this if you want to get money / or don't and get run over" posts you see on Tumblr. Usually it's seen as a joke.

Except in this case, this particular chain letter has the power to enforce its consequences.

You get the letter through snail mail. And the message is this.

Upon reading this, send this message to ten people you know in thirty days, or risk losing all the good luck you'll have in your life.

Reading the mail counts as your consent to the terms. No, I don't know how a contract like that is created.

It's an ingenious scheme though. Because the contract will start stealing a person's good luck once those thirty days are up and the request unfulfilled. And when people start getting bouts of bad luck, they'll think back on this letter and get superstitious and do it. Hence, it almost guarantees its spread.

Usually it doesn't get too bad. Luck is something that can be recovered - it's ultimately a form of karma after all.

The problem though is if the person threw away the letter, even if they remembered it's existence. The message must be recreated perfectly in its entirety. Otherwise, it doesn't count.

And if once you reach a threshold of losing most of your good luck, you can become prone to very lethal accidents, like Final Destination-brand of lethal accidents.

I got brought into the case when someone's tie went into the garbage disposal and dragged the person towards the disposal. You'd expect them to be strangled to death, but no. Instead, it gradually tightened so hard like a vice that it snapped their neck instead. The fact all the kitchen cabinets were mysteriously lock or stuck preventing access to knives and scissors made people suspect a supernatural component.

And that's when they discovered the letter in his trash can. The man also has some recently discovered terrible proclivities that likely predisposed him to having very bad karma, which is why events accelerated so fast. He didn't get a chance to rectify his mistake.

And now I'm involved in the case.

[starless-planet]

I had a dream last night where I hosted Dashcon 2.0 at my apartment but all it was was people answering their anons over a megaphone (there was only one, being constantly fought over) and eventually just sleeping over.

Also in the very early morning hours someone decided to make a game of crawling around on the ground to spook people going to the bathroom/just waking up, but it became so popular that the only person not participating in it was me, who was still sleeping. At one point I woke up to someone tugging on my hand, trying to crab bucket me to the floor, and I whacked them with a pillow and was like that isn’t the rule, idiot I have to be standing on the floor for you to grab me.

[huda123sblog]

Hello

My name is Hoda, I am twenty years old and my husband's name is Sobhi, he is twenty-four years old. We live with my husband's family, which consists of fourteen people. Our lives have turned for the worse since October 7, 2023. Since that day😭, the occupation forced us to leave our home and we were displaced from 8 to 10 times. Then we went to the security line in the south of the Gaza Strip🇵🇸 because of the fire belts, missiles and shells. We went without shelter. After that, torn tents were provided to protect my family🙋‍♀️🙋. The news came to surprise us that our home was bombed. Here, our dreams and hopes were shattered.

Now, we are suffering from the lack of flour for my family due to the exorbitant prices of food🥬🫑. This has caused malnutrition for my family, as well as the lack of water. When water is available, it is unclean and unfit for drinking. This has caused the spread of epidemics and viruses that caused the spread of skin rashes in my family. Animal food, such as fodder and barley, was mixed to provide food for my family, which caused stomach pain and diarrhea.

I beg you In achieving my dream of having children, I got married at the age of fifteen and now it has been five years since my marriage and I have not had children, so please help me collect money to plant children. 😭🙏😢

Otherwise, I did not complete my studies due to lack of money and lack of a place to study, and I hope that you will help me achieve my goals🙏🙏.

We suffer in lighting fires that are used to heat water, cook food and provide warmth. The price of firewood has risen insanely, so we use pipes and plastic instead of firewood, which has led to a crisis in the respiratory system. Winter may be coming and my family and I will not have clothes, blankets, shoes and useful tents. I do not know what I will do to protect my family from the bitter cold. Thank you. ❤️

I was hoping to beg you to help me and my family survive the danger of war.🙏😔🔗

@xxx-sparkydemon-xxx @lampthehealthminister @baandar @doug-dimmadumb @astronotesstuff @prokyon @the-bitch-isback @aceofrage @intheindustrynow-blog @horrorcore2002 @thescavenger29 @yvening @springcres @meowmaids @akaratna @ezras-turtleneck-blog @fagarlic @grandpom @omens-augury @pianta @kingtransgender @friendlizard @intricatecakes @marbirds @error-core-animations @block-swing-perry @br-eddrolls @kraigerzz-blog @daily-click-reminders @commissions4aid-international @anneemay @tumkaafiho @balaclava-trismegistus @ripley-stark @mangocheesecakes @bees-fantasies @girl4pay @turtletoria @rikebe @esperantoauthor @starless-gaze @frehscah

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