#v; main.

[countercharmda]

Being poisoned is probably the worst thing that could happen. It courses through his veins and burns, unforgiving. In an instant Serendipity is reminded of his sister, and her own fascination with them. She'd tried to slip him a drop or two of some of the more common ones -- an attempt to get him used to them. Now he's wishing he hadn't batted her away.

The bard manages to roll over onto his stomach as the last foe is felled, hand to the wound. He blinks up at @championsofthegate , as Gale, as he approaches. He's grateful for the hand that's offered to help him up. " If you die, I'll kill you, " the wizard says, and it's so matter-of-fact that it makes him laugh.

" You and everyone else, it'd seem, " Serendipity says, before sitting up with a grunt. " Now, if you could find me an antidote, that would be far more helpful than baseless threats. "

[telmn-a]

𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐎

@benediikta asked: there's no other way.

"𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍' 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐃 sated?" So brutal a question, but so genuine all the while. For who to know better the liberation she seeks out than the very man that raised her from perdition. A helping hand, once---now he is the ire in her eyes, the buffeting against her wings. She is a slipstream, o'tempestuous force. An unyielding whirlwind with a bite so unforgiving. He saw the potential in her, ambition-laden bones beneath the weight of desperation. But he knows more of what she seeks. Not to simply be safe, to have a place to return to. Above all else, Garuda's dominant wishes for freedom. Free of the shackles of duty && free from the bindings wrought of mortality. How fitting a fate that the eikon of wind makes a home in her bones. The furrow in his brow is one born not of irritation, but instead it comes from his wisher's heart. He wishes she'd break free of a crazed king, he wishes she'd set forth on those wings && fly away from her chains, he wishes... he wishes--- "There's always another way.. always 'as been. But yer no less scared today than back then." Oh, dreaming man---fingertips upholding the squall. How desperate you try to reach for the past, for what once was. For what could've been.

[liightbringr]

𝒖𝒏𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒅.

@hallowdawn asked: daithi settles behind eva to gently braid her hair, weaving a light blue ribbon into it. <3

𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑬 𝑰𝑺 𝑨𝑼𝑮𝑯𝑻 𝑻𝑶 𝑩𝑬 𝑺𝑨𝑰𝑫 of the content that comes with the familiar. Or even the delight that navigates the waters of paradisal blues; she eases into a state of lax whilst nimble digits work through sunlit locks. Bit by bit, gentle tugs && adjustments that weave to && fro into an impending braid. Daithi may be unaware that the influence of their touch midst one's hair could just as well lull the warrior off to sleep---if she allowed it. && being well aware of her own quirks, she takes to humming a melody that is drawn midst mind. Soft && smooth as it reverberates in the column of her throat. Ever sure to maintain her posture, careful not to slump in a way that might signify her relaxed state in emphasis. Until her words give way, nigh a whisper on wind. "How lucky I am.. having friends as dear as you to remind me what normal feels like now and then." A soft hum ensues, thoughtful whilst her gaze casts askew. "Thank you."

[telmn]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞.

@thcrmr asked: ❛i always got the feeling you never liked me.❜ /but he's v smug about it 😂

"𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓?" 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 && he's undeterred. Hardly compelled by the presence of a mad king && the tidings it brings. Separated by iron && hinges && locks, chains barring the way of aetheric influence; like a bound hound. Or the lax manner in which the once-outlaw perches against a crate with untouched rations sat atop it. Meals that have been forsaken, foregone in light of stubbornness && bitterness compartmentalized in the form of man. The same man that stares him down like a ravenous dog ready to bite. But it's in that same man that the former dominant of Ramuh once saw future && prosperity. "Maybe so. Once upon a time, I remember muddying my boots for you." The words are caught against the drag to greens held taut between his lips. One hand settled on crate's edge, the other gingerly supporting the bundle to his lips. A haphazard glance to Barnabas ensues not in any other suggestion than some sense of pity. An already broken man that was exploited by a being so foul, so wrought of self-preservation, that they saw this once prosperous king race toward his end. && it leaves so bitter a taste on the tip of tongue that allows for gravel in vocality to be set free yet again. "Things change, though. Don't they?"

[imaginarianisms]

❛  03 .   a  kiss  after  a  long  time  apart . / to clem from louis!

It's been about a month since Clementine's last seen Louis as he'd been on one of his tours and as much of an independent enban they were, they couldn't help but miss him anyway, especially after Valentines Day had already passed. They were each other's soulmate goddamn it. In the meantime, though, she'd been doing her regular duties as every other adult in the world, when she wasn't studying with Aasim and Junko or vibing with Sophie, James or Sam, she'd be babysitting CJ and AJ for Omid, Christa, Alvin and Rebecca, and it was on one such occasion that she'd invited Gabriel Garcia and James over temporarily to discuss homework on Spanish and to talk with James about another one of his modeling projects with her as the main feature. The two boys were good practice for.. well, she couldn't quite confirm it yet, but Clem had her suspicions, rubbing at her stomach in anticipation at the thought.

A ring at her doorstep, and Clem's service dog raises its head out of curiosity, wagging its tail. The girl blinked, squinting. I.. didn't invite anybody. She turns toward Gabe who looked at her from the couch and shrugged his shoulders, then at James who shook his head. AJ and CJ continued to be preoccupied with Pokémon: Scarlet on the latter's Nintendo Switch, entirely unbothered. Her phone then vibrated, a fingertip opening up her messages, heart fluttering. Is he deadass right now?

Clementine rises to her feet with a wince as light pain shot up her leg, breath hitching as her heart began racing in anticipation as she began running for the door despite herself, before unlocking and opening the door and gasping at seeing Louis' face. That beautiful fucking smile. And everything came shattering down with it.

Clementine was just about to lose her sanity and the entire fucking plot.

Amber eyes began watering with tears as she sobs and jumps into his arms and AJ and CJ follow not too long after, eager to see the man they looked up to. ❝OH MY GOD HIIIIII!!!!~ I missed you so fuckin' much!!❞ Clem wept into his shoulder, burying her face in his neck and trying her best not to cry too much before pulling away momentarily to give him a happy, loving kiss, arms wrapping around his neck before fingers dab at her eyes. ❝But ion' understand, I thought you were only coming back to America next week?! Didja cancel, did something happen?!❞

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐀 ; 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔. || @loyalpromise || OPEN; ACCEPTING.

[sleazygoing]

@explodingrattus;

"You need a ride?"

Gas station. Late. Parked up behind him is the ride in question. Lincoln Continental. Pink like chewed gum. Roof down. A takeout bag flutters across the lot in the slight wind. Kennedy's shades reflect it back twice emptily, like an unplugged CRT TV. He is three feet away from a 'NO SMOKING' sign and a cigarette is hanging between his fingers like it's glued there. A slushie in his hand drips condensation on the toes of his suede cowboy boots. A long shadow looms behind him.

"I gotchu, man. Don't sweat it. I don't expect gas grass or ass or nothin'. Though if you have some pot I can't lie I probably won't say no."

The kid sure looks trustworthy enough. He thinks 'kid', but the guy is tall, has a good couple inches on him. Vernon immediately trusts his freckled face and his fun shirt. And he likes company, especially on the road.

"My name's Vernon Kennedy." He opens the passenger-side door like a chauffeur. "Get in. I gotta warn you though, kid, I like to talk. One time I did Carson City to Henderson with these lost German tourists and I didn't shut up for like nine hours."

[ciiobanu]

@lafantine liked for a starter.

" Ah, you're early! " Nicolae looked up from his sheet music, broken out of thoughts of phrases and harmonies. A smile crossed his face, warm, inviting. He was glad to see her - and it showed. Hands on his knees, he stood up from the piano.

" I was just having a look at the pieces you suggested last week.. "

[ofthesepulchre]

@reverdies liked for a starter (maybe for gavroche !)

"He's a man with a mission, got a serious mind."

[bloodwakes]

"You arrived with the prince," Rosalind noted, quite aware she was stating the obvious. "Is he really all that?" She doubted if anyone ever actually lived up to the stories told about them.

@serbaird — call.

[countercharmda]

[ 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 ] : sender takes a hold of receiver's both hands.

Despite all the trips taken as a child, he's never been in this part of Sorcerous Sundries. There's something exhilarating about it; it's that same excitement that comes with being anywhere he wasn't supposed to be. Sneaking around was a joy, and this felt like a good enough cause to be doing so.

Until, that is, @championsofthegate , as Gale, takes his hands excitedly after skimming through the book of Karsus. He promises great things, and it...makes the bard weary.

" This is Karsus we're talking about, right? " Serendipity asks. " The man who tried to become a god and turned to stone? Just want to make sure we're on the same page is all. "

[telmn-a]

𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐎

@sylkshe asked: " it's the only thing that saved my life. " / ani talking about eva :' )

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓 𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐒 is lengthy; it's telling of some pondering, some consideration, to the words that are uttered. The telling of a savior && the grace therein. This woman across from him speaks in a fondness of a woman mingling with the many. Laughter of children, the coos of the elderly; they look upon Zodiark's dominant in a warmth unmatched for she is a soul unlike any other. Comprised of light, as if the sun itself pieced her together with its rays && saw fit to place her among the mortals of this realm. But alas, if one might refer to her as a savior she would merely scoff at them. Mayhap even laugh off the inklings of such suggestion. The thought alone brings a quirking of the corners to stubble-lined lips. He has his own fondness. They are both runners, wont to go against the grain. Help any && all no matter the cost. They are kindred spirits, in truth. "That so?" Words given simultaneous to the spilling of smoke from between his teeth (via smile). Eyes of hazel cast themselves askew, taking in the sight of golden crown && careful hands. Guiding an elderly woman to Charon, giving her time as if it were limitless. He wonders if that is a truth. When it was all said && done, would Evangelique still be here when the rest fades away? "Seems she's a knack for savin' the day. Heaven knows she's saved this bag of bones a time or two.." && he knows of her plight. The humanity that cripples her at the mention of a certain man. The way her heart has broken a million times over, the times he himself has tried with all his might to be a pillar of support for the strongest woman of this domain. Strong of will, but her heart wanes at the mentioning of a king gone mad. He's no different, though. There is no fighting against the truth that he longs for the squall. Their desires reside in walls of stone && sea spray borders.

[liightbringr]

𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝.

@kismetwilled asked: The Queen stirs in her slumber. Bed of silk encases wounded form, still she wishes to reach out, to comfort and calm. Shepard. Guardian. Mother. She cannot abandon her charges. Even when they forget themselves. Even if they forget her. But in this solace, this pocket of calm before exhaustion claims her, Mothra feels another before her. Unique. Healing. Holy. Mothra shifts to allow compound eyes to shine their cerulean light through the fibers of her cocoon. To witness the brilliance of the soul before even in her obscured vision. ❝ You… you are different, yes? Brighter than the others… not of this world. ❞ Though voice is quiet it reverberates like a rolling thunder and yet it washes over like a warm breeze; mild and soothing. ❝ And yet… I feel a… familiarity between us. Protectors, you and I. Though as I am… I ca-cannot… ❞ Slowly the light from her eyes begins to fade, fatigue beginning to overtake her. ❝ But you, child, I… can help. If you would take up… my charge. ❞

𝐎'𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐒 && 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐄 -- what weave has found her now? To heed the call that brings her to this domain. Ancient energies && an existence that predates her own by millennia; it calls to her, reaches out for her like maternal refuge. A song of the multi-verse, transcendent light all-consuming. The way with which it settles over the flesh && melds to the very core of her being. It makes a home in the sinew, brings peace to the bones. Is this a sensation similar to feeling so immeasurably at home? The ship since battered against relentless swells, the pilgrim whose feet have since gone sore but the sight of their destination wills them in perseverance, or the soldier that looks upon the portrait of their beloved before a grueling battle so that they might find the mettle, the bravery, within them to press on--- the will to live. The Warrior of Light looks upon such beauteous display in awe, in wonder. Countless occasions have seen this warrior speechless or caught in the throes of her curiosity, for at the base of all that she is comprised of she so innately clings to her humanity. But it is also within this moment that familiarity washes over her in all-encompassing light && gives way to a breathlessness. As if the wave itself drags her under && leaves her at the mercy of its undertow before sparing her in the same instance. A sobering experience, a realization that she is not the only being of assimilated power. Of a light that could scorch no different than it can save. Eyes alike paradise fall upon the cocoon before her && its silken splendor. Wondrous blues of one's own are caught thereafter in the irrevocably comforting ones of the being hiding within the chrysalis thusly. Supple tiers part as though words might usher in an adequate conveyance, && yet the intention falls flat. To naught, she stands there in her awe still yet. For in the coming moment are words of an ancient tongue she should not know. && it occurs to her therein that this being allows her to understand. Two beings born of the cosmos && destined to defend it with their lives. && from her feet does she rise in a delicate imposition of one's own magical prowess. A small feat to bid herself aloft, suspended in the air as winding currents of wind circle around her ankles to sustain her hover. A better look at the creature that addresses her. But in that coming moment is a realization. This being has become one of her charges in a moment's notice. The rite of passage that is the safeguarding of the universe && existence beyond; the joining of higher purposes, the convergence of destinies like colliding stars. Time plays against her. She's not a fool. She sees the dimming of the light within, the exhaustion that bids the other to stillness. && it moves her to act. This boon would be hers to carry---it's like looking into a mirror in ways she cannot explain. "Let me lighten the load. I will bear the weight of our light as one." She's almost desperate to administer her aid, to bring about an end to the pain the other experiences. It's second nature, in truth. All of the times she has had to fight && still remains. Still here to be a beacon of hope for the hopeless. She made this choice so long ago && yet naught could sway the decision to cling fast to that mentality all the while. So she draws nearer to the cocoon. A plucking of leather from her hands, gloves removed so that the flesh might yield sincerity in the conforming of her palm to silk; she breathes deep what may come. Pain? Peace? Comfort? Would she be remade from the inside out && put together in the image of-- Mothra. Mothra? That's her name. A smile quirks at the corners of her lips. Small, but genuine evermore. Of pride && warmth. "I'm here."

[soistoodup]

@babyitsmagic from here

he actually winces at the words. they're not shocking. phantom is distinctly Other these days. he passed for human once, but as time has gone on he's only become more monstrous. in both appearance and... not action, not entirely. but someone who's seen him fight another ghost? they might think he's a monster in more ways than one.

but he knows, on some level, that jake meant it when he said he wouldn't judge danny. he has to believe that jake meant that. which means, he's not dealing with jake. ...it also means he doesn't know who he's dealing with, which might be a conversation to have with jake in the future. "so you're, uh, not the guy i'm used to working with, are you?" his voice cracks a bit as he asks. he hopes the other doesn't point it out.

“the guy you—” marc repeats, trying to catch his breath. he’s not an easily shaken man; if his time as a mercenary hadn't ensured that, his time as khonshu’s avatar had. but this…thing, whatever he is, startled him, started talking like he knew him, and marc is supposed to have left the life of supernatural nonsense behind him. “steven?” he hisses through his teeth, focused more inward than outward, but he receives no response.

he returns his attention to the creature in front of him, stance still wary. it’s times like these (few and far between as they are) that marc wishes he did still have khonshu on his side. he’d benefit from the ability to summon the suit right now. “i don’t know what you are, but you are no one i’ve seen before.”

[imaginarianisms]

"Tell me I'm pretty." / louis @ clem in her fandomless verse?

Rolling side-by-side with him through the house in her wheelchair (chronic pain was a giant bitch to deal with given the cold autumn weather and all), Clementine stopped in their tracks at Louis' words, brows rising with amusement as she looked up at him. Clem chuckled, shaking her head as they entered the house's bathroom, reaching for their purse, delving into her makeup bag before getting out her cherry flavor lipgloss.

❝𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲. 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬, 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐢𝐭? 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭.❞

flirting sentences. || @loyalpromise || OPEN TO R.OMANTIC PARTNERSHIPS, Q.UEERPLATONIC PARTNERS, FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS & SWS & CLIENT DYNAMICS; ACCEPTING.

[lee-sol]

[ 𝒔𝒎𝒔 📲 ] we might as well just make out about it i guess

MEME | accepting !!

[ text : by-by ❤️ ] i guess you’re right

[ text : by-by ❤️ ] the fire alarm being pulled during the middle of class is the perfect excuse to, isn’t it?

[ text : by-by ❤️ ] it’s really convenient that it happened during a class i hate

[ text : by-by ❤️ ] you wouldn’t have anything to do with it, right?

for a moment, the texts seem to come to a halt. he waits until the teacher notices his presence, slipping among the crowd of frantic students, pulling out his phone again to send them anothe message.

[ text : by-by ❤️ ] i’m heading towards our spot, meet me there

[ text : by-by ❤️ ] ooooor we can just ditch

[isensnade]

𝒖𝒏𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒅.

@divinarosa asked: “ care to join me for a stroll into town? let’s enjoy tea and sunlight, just the two of us! ”

𝑨 𝒔𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒃𝒐𝒓𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓 catches in stained lips. && by mannerisms conditioned, it is paired with a nod ever gracious && expected of such pedigree. Be sure that the touch she bestows upon the crest of her company's shoulder is done with care, lest she impose a chill. && while there is cold to be found in her skin, the warmth that resides in the spirit of her will is immeasurable. "I think that's a wonderful idea." It's here that frigid blues cast askew, taking in the labored efforts of a genuine inventor giving his heart to his work. As well as an all-too curious being comprised of snowfall toddling 'round the man with an abundance of questions. But when her gaze returns to the humble beauty at her side, poise loosens (albeit minimally). Save for the hands that clasp delicately afront && the footfalls that carry her wayward to ensure this plan does not fall flat. There are words echoing in her mind, of Anna's own making: connection, bonding, living. "I hope that you'll enjoy all that Arendelle has to offer during your stay." There's a brief pause && another glance. "Make yourselves at home."