#light a fire verse

[localechoes]

and before she died, she remembered who she was

[unbloodiedmartyr]

never dreamt of such sterile hands. you keep 'em folded in your lap and raise them up to beg for scraps. you know he's holding you down with the tips of his fingers, just the same.

[whaliiwatching]

city smokers

prompt: cigarette

[adventuresofalgy]

The weather had indeed changed, and once again everything was grey, grey, grey, grey, grey…

All through the night the wind had rushed and roared through the trees, bringing milder air from the great Atlantic Ocean to sweep all the frost and ice away, and depositing an abundance of water besides, as though the wild west Highlands of Scotland didn't already have enough and a great deal more to spare. Algy wished and wished that the skies could carry the water to his friends in southern California, where the world was actually burning for lack of it, instead of dumping endless quantities here, where there was already an abundant supply, to put it mildly…

But no, the weather had its own ideas, and what it really liked to do best was saturate the places that were already drenched, where the water could simply flow straight back into the sea, so that it could start the game all over again…

The weather birds had told Algy that it was set to rain all week, with the usual dense Scotch mist and plenty of wind, but despite the forecast there were moments when it seemed almost calm, and the rain more or less stopped, as though it had paused to enjoy ice cream or chocolates in an Interval before the next Act.

And in one of those brief intermissions, Algy took the opportunity to return to the pond, where only a few days before he had been able to walk to the middle and perch on the icy surface. That would certainly be a rash and foolhardy adventure for a fluffy bird in these conditions, however, so instead he perched on the damp, stony bank and gazed pensively at the reflections. Observing that his yellow hair seemed to be the brightest colour in the entire world on this dreich January day, Algy recalled a poem he had read long ago:

Smooth it slides upon its travel, Here a wimple, there a gleam— O the clean gravel! O the smooth stream! Sailing blossoms, silver fishes, Paven pools as clear as air— How a child wishes To live down there! We can see our coloured faces Floating on the shaken pool Down in cool places, Dim and very cool; Till a wind or water wrinkle, Dipping marten, plumping trout, Spreads in a twinkle And blots all out. See the rings pursue each other; All below grows black as night, Just as if mother Had blown out the light! Patience, children, just a minute— See the spreading circles die; The stream and all in it Will clear by-and-by.

[Algy is thinking of the poem Looking-glass River from A Child's Garden of Verses by the 19th century Scottish writer Robert Louis Stevenson. ]

[goldenbeastkeeper]

@pacexlikexaxghost

Valor didn't realize such huge creatures existed here. Most of what they'd seen was on the small side compared to what he was used to, but this creature was huge even for the Isles.

But Valor was all for learning about new creatures, so he paused their glow bug chasing to follow in the bushes.

Humanoid, was the first thing Valor noticed. And was that . . . a dress? Was this species sapient? Humans were the only obviously sapient species he'd seen here so far - it was called the human realm for a reason - but if there were more . . .

Not only was she huge, she was also bright. He had a difficult time actually looking at her to see any features, especially since it was night. Her clothes and the general shape of her head was all he could make out, though he was sure he'd be able to see something of the face as well had they not been behind her.

It sounded like she was singing.

They'd have to be careful. Small as they were compared to such a giant creature, they'd be easy prey. Either that, or crushed beneath her feet.

Flicker nudged Valor and pointed much closer to the ground, near her feet. "There's a little one."

Valor directed his attention to where they were pointing, and sure enough, there was a much smaller one, about the same size as witches and humans. He wondered what that was about. Friends of different species? Sexual dimorphism? Different roles in the social group? A symbiotic relationship? Whoever this smaller one was, they seemed to be very attentive to the big one.

He kept watching them, this time much more focused on the smaller one.

[bumblingbabooshka]

Oh, so we're all about 'I love my wife - I'd kill for my wife' guys here until it's Stonn?? My man Big Pebble????? [Patreon | Commissions]

[lsdoiphin]

More Heart of Penumbra designwork commissioned by @featheredbeardog - these five are the main characters. Chosen ones destined by fate to restore balance to their world and all that, you know the drill.

Kojin already felt smothered by his very average familial expectations before the whole "chosen one" thing happened. His heart is in the right place, but he's a pessimistic and defensive guy and has some growing up to do.

Bhumi is the unofficial team leader - she sees herself as the only one here who's mature enough for the job, which isn't an entirely unfair assumption on her part. Her self-reliant nature is at odds with team management, but someone's gotta do it.

Sobek is the chill peacekeeper of the group. He's emotionally intelligent and perceptive, but his patience can easily cross over into doormat behavior. He's smarter than he looks.

Rudra is the shitstarter of the crew. Having already been a celebrity sportsdragon, she sees being a "chosen one" as more of the same: keep your obligations, give a good performance, and reap the rewards. It's easy. She likes ruffling others' feathers and is chronically at odds with Bhumi.

Penny is not actually one of the chosen - as far as anyone can tell, anyway. ("She's the last light dragon - she's gotta be the chosen of light... right?") After a very sheltered upbringing, she's determined to contribute, even if she has to fight her anxiety every step of the way.

[umbrellajam]

watching the Superman trailer:

CLARK KENT JE T'ADORE!!!!!!!!

[withinkandquill-aa]

how do you imagine will and anya's relationship to be in season iii? her and hannibal? did her and hannibal keep in contact while he was locked away in prison? does she blame will for the reason hannibal is incarcerated ( even tho he surrendered himself like the ultimate simp )? // @devilswill

Buckle up, boys! This will be a long one!

Okay, I think to fully answer these questions we have to first consider the way Anya unconsciously attaches to people in general. First of all, she is and has almost always been very co-dependent and anxiously-attached. She’s really sensitive to real and perceived rejections, and terrified of being alone. This, of course, stems from her trauma but also a singular lesson ingrained in her very, very early on: everyone and everything she loves can and will be taken from her by the person who holds the most power. Now some might take this to mean you’re safest if you hold all the power but Anya never held any illusions that she was capable of that. So, instead she employs the trauma response of fawning. Anya attaches herself very deeply to the person who she believes holds the most power in her life and models herself after what she thinks they want. This does two things for her: it ensures her safety, and it ensures that she won’t lose the person she loves because no one can take them away. For her first three years of life, her mother was this person, of course, and then her father killed her mother and he became that person to her, and then the FBI removed her from his home and influence and Hannibal became that person. Her sense of self is based off this person, as well as her sense of morality because she sees morality in terms of what will or won’t get her in trouble with this person, and after 14 with society itself as it is the most powerful entity and she fears the captivity that comes when society rejects you.

Will himself is something of an exception to Anya. All her life, there has been one person to please. She has interacted with a few people here and there over the years, made some brief and fleeting friendships that never got too uncomfortably deep. Will is the first one who does actually get to know her on a deeper level because he is the first one to care enough to push into the darker parts of herself, the parts she normally keeps hidden because society won’t understand and if society can’t understand then it will undoubtedly reject her. But he’s still not Hannibal. Will hasn’t known her as intimately or as long and still chosen to stay the way Hannibal has. There’s a part of her that won’t completely trust Will because of that and she won’t for a long, long time.

So, yeah, when Hannibal is incarcerated, Anya is pissed. At the FBI for physically “taking” him from her, at Hannibal for turning himself in and essentially choosing Will over her, and especially at Will because she sees him at the center of it all. The FBI would not even be looking at Hannibal if Will hadn’t pointed so many fingers. Hannibal wouldn’t have given himself up if Will wasn’t there to make him feel he should. And to make it all worse, she won’t expect it because Will is not the one who holds the power. The FBI did, but that was figured out already. Hannibal should have been “safe.”

At the same time, though, she’ll be desperate. She cannot be alone.

And yeah, Anya totally visits Hannibal in prison. After all, her moral compass is also his. She was raised on killing, she has no objection to it. Cannibalism isn’t even that much of a stretch to her, all things considering. If you kill it, eat it. Like a pig, or a cow, or a chicken. It makes sense to her at a surface level and she doesn’t want to dive deeper than that. But his choice to give himself up for Will instead of run for her feels like rejection and that is terrifying. He will feel more distant not just physically but also emotionally and for the first time in a very long time, she’ll be scared of him leaving her entirely, maybe even taking Will with him somehow and leaving her with nothing once again. Anya will worry each time she goes to visit that he won’t want to see her anymore and she’ll worry each time she leaves that it will be the last for one reason or another. And this will play apart in pushing her back towards Will again. She has to have someone, anyone at this point, and she’ll be grasping and scrambling to hold onto both of them for as long as she can.

Of course, she not very conscious of these motivations. Anya just sees her attachments to them as love, and it is. She loves them more than anything else in the world. But her love will always be damaged from those fourteen years of trauma and if no one forces her to see it, she never will. Anya won’t want to dive that deep into herself and she won’t stumble upon the revelation because it is also partially hidden by her struggle with impulsivity and the actions that don’t seem to be driven by any motivation or thought process at all.

[flameleadsarc]

@firsthcmuculus asked: "Wow! The Flame Alchemist in person!"

He knew that voice.

Forced to run his own errands today, the Colonel's trip to the library was supposed to be short. Half an hour later, with several books in his hands, he realized he needed to speed this errand along lest the stack of papers on his desk grow even larger. It already sat at somewhere around three inches tall. Any more, and he would be stuck in his office every night and day until he was in his sixties.

But, what did that matter when he heard a voice that paused every single thought in his mind?

Most, if not all, of the general public knew about Selim Bradley. Colonel Mustang was no exception to that. If asked even a month ago, he would not have had much to say about Selim. He was the Fuhrer's son, and the two of them had not crossed paths as there was no reason for them to. From the little he knew, he seemed like a nice enough kid.

A nice enough kid who happened to be a Homunculus, apparently. The Lieutenant ensured he got that bit of information. She still did her due diligence to protect him.

He had to protect her, and everyone else ensnared in the Homunculi's plans, in kind. Hearing Selim's voice, the Colonel shifted his gaze to him and gave him a simple smile. This conversation didn't have to be a difficult one. As long as he continued to act clueless, everyone would be none the wiser.

"That's me. It's good to finally meet you, Selim."

[scvcnofswords]

❛ i guess we both lost something we were fond of. ❜  (taran to regin, laughter slowly turns into sobbing) | @thedaschosen

Regin is sitting in the infirmary bed beside Taran, lips thin as she stares down at the blankets atop her legs and tries to swallow the burning in her throat, tries to suppress the tears building in her eyes. "... You could definitely say that," she croaks.

Oh the terrible irony. He's lost an arm to the Anchor, but his life had been saved in the doing of it, thanks to Solas. His mentor, his advisor, who plans to undo the world as it is to try and preserve those lost to the creation of the Veil, to 'heal' the wound he seems to think he's cast upon the world.

And Regin, too, has lost her left arm, to a blow from the Saarebas at the behest of the viddasala, her right one currently hugging her knees to her chest beneath the blankets as emotion threatens to tear her asunder.

The physical pain of that injury, and the others she'd suffered by throwing herself between the Saarebas and Taran and Dorian when they'd been nearly taken out by one of the pulsing magical detonations of the massive qunari... they barely register, compared to the pain in her head and her heart, screaming like a hurricane.

Solas. Taran's closest friend, but for perhaps herself or Varric.

Her vhenan, her lost beloved. She makes an attempt at a wobbly smile, but the emotion overtakes her, and a small sob escapes her before she can clap her hand over her mouth, eyes closing tightly. "Fuck," she whispers, trembling faintly.

How could she possibly have even begun to fathom this? She'd known, of course, that Solas had secrets, that he had things he was hiding. That he was so much more than he'd led them to believe. It's plain to anyone who cared to pay attention, and she couldn't help but to pay attention to him. More than she should have.

But the depth of this? It's... Earth-shattering. She bows her head forward, taking long shaking breaths and trying to banish the ice and pain from her lungs with each.

It's a betrayal. She knows that logically. They've been betrayed. But it's also plain to see that Solas still- cared. Deeply. Desperately. 'I would treasure the chance to be wrong once more,' he had said to Taran, and she believes him. Perhaps that small orb of light, of belief in her chest makes her the worst fool she's ever known, but it's there. She refuses to stifle it.

"- Are you okay?" she asks once she's gotten better control of herself, finally scrubbing the tears that had fallen off of her face and then looking up at him, golden-green eyes dull and reddened from crying. "I mean I know- I know you're not okay, I just.." A shaking inhale- a shakier exhale and she slumps back against the headboard, closing her eyes.

"I'm here for you. Promise." He needs her, right now. She can't afford to fall apart for herself or for So-him. Not any more than she already has. So she inhales again, and mentally she... Shoves it down. The pain, the longing, the heartbreak, the betrayal, the love that still aches with every beat of her heart. She shoves it down, locks it away, and looks back to her dearest friend.

"What can I do, Taran? What do you need?"

[pastellmochi]

non paralive moots im begging yuo listen to my wife singing

[neptuniadoesstuff]

Weird CoL Tribe Facts #01

Blazewings have a cool down feature, after awhile of being balls of fire, they turn into a mire Grey-color with some cracks of their original scale color. This version of the Blazewings are called "Ashwings" or "Coalwings".

As they cool down, their wings become a much paler color & they seem to be a bit more slower but still kinda active as they pretty much want to preserve energy till the next time they become "Blazewings". The only thing that doesn't change is their spikes, tail & wing tips, crackled patterns, & eyes.

Despite them being welp.. descendants of firescales, they are quite different from them also, as unlike firescales, Blazewings can actually regulate their temp. (Red = Warmest. Blue = Hottest)

Its unknown what is the true name of these guys as they do pretty much use it interchangeably so if you see a Grey looking blazewing, refer to it as a Ashwing, but if you see a Ashwing going into its "Blister" form, you call it a Blazewing.

[despairforme]

Watching tutorials on how to light a campfire.

[onigiram]

TAGS. i didn't like the other ones asjbfjbsdjgb

[usyrps]

THE SIMPLEST NOTION OF POLITICS IS THIS: SEATED IN A ROOM, AROUND A TABLE, WAITING FOR SOMEONE TO BLINK FIRST. he has not the patience, nor the composure, for it. it is as much a craft as any, to be learned and mastered, and try though as he might, the intricacies of governance evade him. he and aemond both knew this, and aegon is content to let him lead their campaigns toward glory eternal, alas he cannot tolerate being left in the dark.

like the candles wane, so too does his resolve. ❛ you're plotting, ❜ he says plainly, striding forth, tone shifting in the spirit of being accusatory as brows furrow, chin tipping upward to glare at aemond. his arms cross then uncross, and he wishes he had taken to request the aid of wine for this conversation. the golden pin gleams, pinned 'pon his brother's breast, his hand. aegon wants to trust him, wishes to confide in him, and he does not waver in this, yet he craves assurance all the same. he adjusts the pin, then the neatness of it irks him, and he tousles it again, leaving it askew.

❛ i'd like to know what. do you intend to tell me, ever? ❜ a step back is taken, harmonised in time with a heave of breath, incensed with his dismal mood. he makes to drape himself atop a chaise lounge, eyes making a cursory sweep across the map of westeros sprawled on the table; one of the wooden pieces is flicked over, ❛ should the king not know where his soldiers are being sent? ❜ he knocks over another.

AN AUDIENCE, @vhagar-rider