#the first of three posts today!!

[lets-try-some-writing]

She Called His Name Moon

Earth spent many long ages alone with her maker. She never expected or hoped for a friend, much less an equal to come into her life.

Her Moon was not anticipated, but with time, he was gleefully accepted.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

From the moment of her creation, she was both alone and forever connected. 

She sensed her maker and fed from his slumbering form, but he was unaware. He slept. He dreamed. Never did he stir. Although sometimes she was able to peer into his wandering visions and distant memories. 

She saw a being of light and majesty. She could not understand his name when her maker uttered it in those echoes of experience that she absorbed during her feedings. The Bright One was kind to her maker. He always murmured soft things, creating sounds that echoed like the beginning of the universe. He was golden and shining blue all at once. Silver and green, red and violet. He was color, he was life, and his presence illuminated all around him. She sensed her maker’s love for the Bright One. She felt sorrow when she learned that her maker and the Bright One had been torn apart.

So many memories of her maker and the Bright One, both traversing the stars. They sought great wonders. She only saw faint flashes of the glories of the elder days. She did not understand when their love turned to anger, but as she grew, so too did the memories turn violent. The Bright One was upset, his radiant form blazing with the white-hot fire of a being so tied to the beginning that an end was almost impossible to imagine.

She saw visions of thirteen beings, creations of the Bright One. Children, he called them. She had never seen such lovely beings. Each of them shone like stars, gorgeous even as they attacked her maker with weapons made of molten supernovas. She cried out as she felt her maker’s pain, his rage, his loss.

He was alone when he was cut away from the Bright One whose face was stained with streaks of liquid sunbeams. 

He was alone when his cries went unanswered and his frame succumbed to the injuries it sustained.

He was alone when the cold crept into his fuel lines, forcing him into an uneasy slumber filled with memories of better times.

He was alone until the moment she was born.

“Father, do you hear me?”

She called out to him as he slumbered through thought and bond. He did not heed her, but for a moment, his conscience stirred. She could feel his rumbling thoughts and his fear of being discovered. As she grew and her frame continued to wrap around his, he became content, his slumber less pained and more at ease.

She could have torn away from him in those early ages. But she could not abandon her maker. She could not leave him alone when all they had was each other. And so she grew. She shielded him from reality and hid him from all that sought to do him harm. She relished in her maker’s memory, and each time she called out, he grew more and more gentle in his responses. He was not awake, but he was registering her presence. 

That was enough for her. She did not need anyone else. She did not need to know the Bright One or his children, no matter how much a part of her longed to see the places that her maker’s memory allowed her visions of.

“I will protect you. I will guard you from the light of the Bright One. You shall not be found.”

She murmured her promises as her frame grew and thickened. She was her maker’s shield. She was his guardian. She took pride in her work. 

But she was not enough.

She could not move. She could not attack. She was merely a wall between the Bright One and her maker. She needed children of her own. Those who would go forth and move in her stead in order to protect her maker. The memories she received from her maker told her that the Bright One and his young were angry beings that were neither tired nor withered in their wrath. They would not stop until her maker was destroyed, and that was something she could not allow, regardless of their familial ties to her.

“The Bright One made thirteen. He made children to strike you down. But do not fear father. I will make children of my own who shall fight in your name.” 

The Bright One molded light and god-forged metal into great glittering embers that gave life. She did not have such power and instead took from the dust and the blood of her maker to craft her creatures. Many perished on her surface, and so she changed to accommodate. Using the visions of mountains and seas from her maker, she shifted to give her creations room to grow. She could not make them timeless like the Bright One or his ilk. She was unable to reach out and forge from stars souls that would not extinguish. 

But she began her work all the same, inferior as it was.

Life grew upon her surface. And to each of her children, she sang the stories of her maker’s memory. They did not understand her, just as she did not understand the mighty speech of her maker and the Bright One. However, they heard her intent. They grew, they changed, and they brought with them the timeless memory encoded in their very DNA. Their strength was not in their frames, it was in their combined glory.

They sought the stars. They chased victory above all else. Each of them, so carefully molded, changed to become their own beings. They thought, they planned, and with every passing age, she watched in joy as they grew in strength. One day, they would go forth and see the stars in her stead. When the time was right, she would have an army more than capable of warding off the Bright One until her maker was strong enough to resist him again.

She was pleased, and while her maker did grumble and shift in his slumber in response to the new life being housed upon him, all was well. Her maker was a being of death and new beginnings. He would never be happy about lifeforms making his frame their home. But for now, they were safe, and with time, nothing would dare harm her maker. When the Bright One was no longer a threat and her maker awoke, maybe then she could see the places beyond the confines of her cradle. Until then, she could be patient. She would wait.

Ages passed her by. Her creations grew and started to emerge from their pools to walk on land. And not too long later, her long watch was broken by the tears of a being she did not know.

Bright as opal, stunning as the birth of a new galaxy, the being who came near was drenched in tears. He was of the Bright One, that much she could tell. But he was not one of the thirteen. He did not glow as they did, nor was his frame basked in the touch of beginnings. He was a younger child of the Bright One, and that set fear alight in her very spark. 

Her children were too weak to fight against such a being. He was too large, too powerful. And while she would gladly give her life in defense of her maker, she feared what might befall her father if she did perish. She couldn’t leave him alone in his anger. She felt his sorrows and sadness. She had no wish to see his memories repeated.

W̴̢̍͑̚͜͠h̴̨̝̋͒a̵̛͙̰̠̱̓t̸̹̄͗ ̵͈͈̓̍͋ͅa̶̻̠͖̒͆r̸̦̩͋̓̉͝ȩ̸̠̖̫͠ ̴̖̝̓̉y̵̼̝̘̯̐̿͘o̸̺̺̾͊͝u̷̲͙̐͠?̴͈̇͗̄̄

She did not understand him as he drew near. His speech was strange and yet lovely all at once. He sounded like the Bright One and his thirteen, although his words did not ring out like a song as theirs did. His voice was commanding, cautious perhaps, and laced with a rumble that spoke of long cycles spent weeping. A part of her pitied him, and the closer he came, the more clearly she could see his face. He was scared, and his optics were scoured. Sharp jagged burns ran along his face. He looked to be hardly able to see as he tried to assess her and her maker. His frame was dirtied and damaged, covered in scuffs and cuts she had been unable to see from far away. 

He still shone, but his light was dimmer now. 

"Leave us child of the Bright One. I will not allow you to harm my father." 

She hissed a warning through field and thought. She could not trust him, not when a memory from her maker showed her just how deadly the Bright One's children could be. Thankfully the being before her paused in his approach. He tilted his helm, his tears crystallizing as they ceased falling from his damaged optics. He drew no closer, and while she would have loved to flare her plating or attempt to flee, there was little she could do without harming her children, her maker, or herself.

She watched. She waited. The being did nothing for an agonizingly long time.

Then, he reached out.

"̸Y̸o̸u̴ ̴a̸r̸e̴ ̸o̵n̸e̴,̴ ̶a̴n̸d̴ ̸y̸e̷t̶ ̷n̷o̶t̴ ̵t̶h̶e̵ ̷s̵a̴m̴e̶.̷ ̷I̸ ̷s̴e̶n̷s̶e̴ ̴a̶ ̵s̸p̴a̴r̴k̷ ̶a̵n̵d̶ ̵m̷a̸n̶y̸ ̵y̵o̶u̷n̶g̶ ̸l̷i̸f̶e̵f̸o̶r̴m̵s̶ ̶s̶e̷p̶a̸r̷a̴t̷e̸ ̵f̶r̷o̵m̴ ̶t̷h̶e̴ ̵c̶o̶r̸e̵ ̸o̷f̴ ̵t̸h̶e̷ ̶U̴n̷m̷a̸k̸e̵r̶.̶"̵ She did not know his words as he gently drew close enough to touch her surface. He was delicate and took care not to damage places where her children flourished. She rattled in fear, but the touch was not painful, merely probing. 

"̸I̶ ̵d̸o̸ ̷n̵o̷t̶ ̷k̵n̸o̸w̶ ̵w̶h̴o̷ ̵y̴o̶u̵ ̷a̶r̶e̸,̷ ̶b̵u̶t̷ ̴p̴l̴e̷a̶s̴e̴,̵ ̶b̶e̵ ̷a̶t̸ ̷e̸a̷s̵e̴.̷"̵ He spoke softly now. His field pressed against hers incessantly but not dangerously. He was trying to understand how much she could glean from his actions.

She returned his gesture and tentatively enveloped him in her presence. It was startling for her to feel another being so very powerful aside from her maker. However, it seemed to shock the being too. He paused in his study, his damaged optics wide and almost frightened as he grit his denta.

She sensed conflict in him. He was at war with himself, that much was clear through the fire that ran hot in his field. Hatred, loss, sorrow, pain, longing, and so much more. He was aching, and despite her better judgment, she offered sympathy in swift warm flares of her field. 

He stilled once more and remained unmoving for a time, seemingly lost in thought. She worried for a moment, terrified that he might lash out after having concluded that destroying her maker was the best course of action. Thankfully, after her surface finished a full rotation, the entity smiled and called out in the rumbling voice she now found herself taking a degree of comfort in.

"̷I̵ ̴h̴a̶v̵e̵ ̸l̸o̶s̵t̴ ̵m̸u̶c̷h̷.̷ ̴T̵h̸e̵r̶e̷ ̴w̸i̴l̵l̷ ̴b̷e̷ ̴n̶o̴ ̵m̷o̴r̸e̵ ̷d̷e̸a̵t̷h̸ ̸t̵h̶i̴s̷ ̷c̷y̷c̵l̴e̴. His smile was sad and his battered frame heaved as his wrath seemed to seep out of his spark. She watched him as he pulled away from her surface and settled into her gravity, floating alongside her in the void of space. His optics, which had likely once been blue, were now scorched white. She found herself wrapped up in them as the child of the Bright One remained by her side.

He did not attack, he merely lingered. His presence swiftly became a constant, and with time, she began to learn his words. She gleaned pieces of his tongue, and he in turn learned how to communicate with field as she did. Their first interactions were crude and filled with raw emotion over anything else, but she took joy in them.

She could feel he held no love for her maker, but his care for her kept him by her side. He called her many things, the meaning of which she struggled to comprehend. Terra, Guardian-of-that-which-Grows, Gaea, Evergreen, Origin, and many other names. She loved each of them, but she had one name for the Titan who came to become more than a mere watcher as stars aligned and her maker continued to grow more and more aware beneath her surface.

"Dear one?"

"Yes?"

"No matter what happens, even if the Unmaker wakes, I will stay with you."

"I thought you hated my maker."

"I do hate him... but my love for you comes before all else. Nothing shall keep me from you, not even a god of death." 

"Why go so far for me? You are of the Bright One, a descendant of the thirteen."

"Because my spark sings for you and you alone." 

He smiled at her as he spoke his oath. She had not even been given the chance to process his words before he made a decision that shocked her.

He gave up his wings and thrusters to take on a form that would allow him to better remain by her side. Where once a mighty Titan stood, now a simple spherical body orbited her own. Bright as a star, optics glittering white like the firstborn of the thirteen, a strong frame forged from living metal. He was strength, he was loyalty, and he was eternal. Within the memory of her maker, few things matched those traits, and only one represented the simple bond of creation that was shared between her maker and the Bright One at the dawn of time.

Companions to stars and planets alike, she knew exactly what her dear Titan was to be titled after.

“Thank you for remaining by my side.”

“Always and forever. Never shall we be parted, not until the universe unravels.”

She called his name Moon.

[mellowthorn]

Family cuddle

[nymdraws]

more of these guys ( + one deanna)

[fastcardotmp3]

I'm not usually the audience for most kid fic content HOWEVER the idea of Eddie falling into a circumstance where he becomes the Uncle Wayne to some other kid who has nowhere else to go has me by the throat today

like. circular narratives.... hear me out....

maybe Eddie did have a sibling, a sister ten years older than him who was out of the house and as far away as she could manage before he even ended up in Hawkins with Wayne. maybe he and his sister didn't keep in touch because by the time she had her footing in the world well enough to come back and see him, Eddie was long gone already.

maybe she ends up in worse situations than he does by nature of not having a Wayne of her own to teach her what it feels like to have someone stick around for you and maybe one of those situations is ending up with a kid she's not equipped to take care of, no matter how much she tries.

she needs help, needs backup, needs someone to take this 10-year-old in and give her safety while her mother gets healthy and tries to learn what it means to be stable.

And hey, listen, Eddie Munson is 27 at this point, he's had seven years to heal from the bullshit Hawkins put him through and he's still working hard every day to keep that momentum going, but a child?

he's not a father, not an uncle, take her to Wayne for fuck's sake, he begs of his sister even though he knows deep down he doesn't mean it, not when Wayne has finally retired, finally has some stability of his own.

what other option do I have? I need you, Ed, is begged of him in return, and he hears her, he does, but what does he have to offer in this situation?

he's a mechanic with PTSD and a one-bedroom in Bloomington who's been pining for his best friend the former jock-turned-part time student for the past two years.

he's a wreck and a half who has nothing but lateral moves to make in his future and has to set three different alarm clocks to wake himself up in time for work every morning and he's just-- Eddie. That's all he is. That's all he has to offer.

It can't possibly be enough.

What's her name? he asks despite himself, out here on the sidewalk in front of his place of work where he'd been ambushed, where he knows Steve will be pulling into the spot across the street to pick him up any minute.

Naomi, is the answer, and she will be, even if Eddie doesn't see it yet.

There's no part of Eddie Munson which has ever dreamed of trips to the park and helping with homework and drives to the mall to buy presents for birthday parties.

There's no part of him which has ever sought out parenthood to anything other than the stray cat who likes to beg for treats at his back door.

There's no part of him which is built for this, Eddie knows, as he sees the familiar shape of a familiar car parking across the street and idling.

Naomi, he breathes anyway, looks down at the photograph being pressed into his hand, the untamed curls and missing front teeth.

She's sitting on the front steps of a trailer, sun shining down on her and pinking up the bridge of her nose and it's him for a moment. It's him, loved unequivocally by a guy who never planned to have kids, never wanted them, and loved Eddie with everything he had to offer despite it.

It's him, the little boy that still lives in Eddie's chest, just asking not to be forgotten.

You're all she's got right now, Eddie.

Well, shit.

He's gonna need to put a call into Wayne, isn't he?

[acatpiestuff]

i suppose its only fair that I should remake this today

1st one  |  2nd one

[so-very-small]

trapping a tiny in a jar and gently setting the jar next to me on the sofa and giving them some popcorn cause i’m about to make them watch the entire extended editions of Lord of the Rings with me

[yardsards]

fuck any job interviewer that's like "so how much money do you expect to be paid for this position"

idk dawg??? as much as you're willing to give me??? don't make me play "do i lowball it and risk getting underpaid or highball it and risk not getting hired" mind games. i did not come here to play the fucking price is right. you're the one writing the paychecks here.

[micamone]

whoah, did you know my tablet still works . . .

[kideternity]

[Image ID: An inked digital drawing of Digimon character Amphimon. Amphimon is a cyborg humanoid wearing an altered diving suit, they have large chunky gauntlets and boots, lightning bolt embellishments across their design but most notably on a buckle at their waist, on the bottom of their chest armour and on their diving helmet window. They have diving helmet style shoulder pads, a large jellyfish like skirt connected to the buckle made up of two layers- a puffier top layer with jellyfish markings on it and a longer flow-ier bottom layer- and large circular pads at their hands, feet and knees. The ones on their knees and hands have a cross symbol on them and the ones on their feet have a minus symbol. They have large jellyfish antenna coming from their diving helmet and the exposed parts of their body- such as their forearms, waist and at the inner upper thighs- appears made of straps. They’re in a front facing action pose, with their right leg and arm pointed down whilst their left leg is raised the calf slightly tucked in, and their left arm is raised over their head. /End Image ID]

I haven’t seen all of ghost game yet but Amphimon is by far my favourite new digimon from it

[ceaselesswatchersspecialboy]

Being overly emotional over FNAF being ten now again because I’m pretty sure those games are why I’m the way I am now and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

[stardestroyer81]

💥IT'S HAPPY HOUR!!! 💥

I was convinced to draw Dynamite Anton from the upcoming release ANTONBLAST, and while initially it was a simple doodle, I thought it looked good enough to touch up a bit and post here! ⭐✨

[asanjou]

giramie week day 3: spiderwebs/bug bites(?)

kingchan cameo!

[the-port-mafia]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Dazai Osamu/Nakajima Atsushi (Bungou Stray Dogs) Characters: Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), Nakajima Atsushi (Bungou Stray Dogs) Additional Tags: Dazai Osamu Needs a Hug (Bungou Stray Dogs) Summary:

A drinking contest between Yosano, Kunikida, and Dazai resulted in Atsushi having to help Dazai home, where some unexpected truths were revealed.

[redbootsindoriath]

Oh.

Okay.

I’m honestly pretty surprised because this was supposed to just be a goofy little blog where I put nonsense stuff that maybe a few people would see and then move on.  Even the tagging system I use is because I didn’t care about the blog being easy to find.  However, unlike Fëanor, I don’t mind finding myself with more followers than I planned for.

Thank you all so much for being here, I hope I’m not disappointing anyone in any way, and to those of you who have been here since the beginning, thanks for your patience.

I’m hoping to do something big-ish for a proper celebration and thank you, but I didn’t really plan ahead much so it might be a while before I’m able to get something pulled together.  In the meantime, here’s a Third Age Finrod.

Again, thanks to all of you for being here and being so nice (whether I’m active or not), and for all of the wonderful comments, and for the reblogs that have spread my nonsense much further across the fanbase than I would ever have imagined.

Transcription:

[Fingolfin:] “Yeah well I never liked you anyway.  Idiot.”

[Mouth of Sauron:] “Is there anyone in this rout with authority to treat with me?” [Finrod:] “Of course!  I’m Dungalef and this is my good friend...uh...Nrogara Rassele.”

[peppermint-moss]

some memes i made for the city of mist ttrpg campaign im in with my friends hehe (feat. a lot of candle light and her maybe-mother)

commission info || ko-fi (tip jar)

[wundrousarts]

For any Nevermoor fans that've ever been interested in getting their hands on the UK hardcover editions of the series, with the wonderful cover designs..... I think they might be out of print (which. makes sense with the gold foil) so. goodluck and godspeed for finding them secondhand, because it was surprisingly hard to do online.