#⋆♱⋅⟡⋅♱⋆ threads

[sanctified-sanctuary]

⋆♱⋅⟡⋅♱⋆ @hopeharmed ⋆♱⋅⟡⋅♱⋆ 〝Do I have something on my face or why do you keep looking at me like that?〞||〝Yeah, but you should see the other guy.〞{Salvatore 🙴 Valentine 🙴 Evangeline}

The match was brutal, much more a challenge than passing nights and it was electrifying. The crowd was still jumping with energy after the spectacle, hell Valentine could hardly push their way through the crowd leaving the makeshift ring - a dirt floor cage meant for underground fights.

〝God they need to get more talent like that in here,〞 a deep throaty chuckle following as Valentine wiped sweat and another's blood from their brow and claimed a table on the outskirts of the warehouse to kick their feet up. The stocky fighter being trailed by their most loyal companion like a ghost given form, in all white and a head above half the gathered audience ever at their side.

〝Maybe they would have more talent if you weren't so rough on them, Valya. They're not like us, humans are deceptively fragile.〞 Her own laughter being drowned out by the aforementioned throng of mortal men. It was a full house, the air thick with sweat blood and smoke- all of which Valya was contributing to tonight.

〝Though I can't help but agree, even my instincts were kicking in from outside the cage- a good hunt is in order after this.〞 Her ember orange eyes were practically alight with desire upon the suggestion, there was nothing quite like the both of them on the prowl at night- a deadly duo.

[g0spels]

would anybody be interested in a study post on nocturne? cecily's line of nightlife clubs/bars?

[holystates]

♱　　—　　sanctuary  church  @  6:30pm ♱　　—　　open  to  anyone

♱　　there's  a  feeling  within  camille  that  she  can't  quite  place.  something  empty  and  dull,  aching  and  unexplainable.  she's  been  feeling  it  for  weeks,  slowly  then  all  at  once,  like  a  rising  flood  crashing  down  like  a  tsunami.  it's  a  lot  to  bear,  especially  when  the  there's  a  throbbing  in  her  skull  that  won't  go  away,  unhelped  by  all  the  mingling  voices  that  surround  her.  and  as  the  sun  continues  to  shine  over  the  churchyard,  the  pain  becomes  close  to  unbearable,  like  a  band  stretched  over  her  skull  and  pulled  taut.  she  rises  from  her  seat  and  finds  herself  off  to  the  side  of  the  church,  where  the  trees  provide  much  needed  shade  that  help  quell  the  erratic  pain  in  her  head.  hand  pressed  against  the  rough  stone  wall,  it's  then  that  camille  realizes  she's  not  alone  when  she  looks  up  and  finds  company  already  there.  “  sorry,  i  didn't  —  ”  she  mutters,  suddenly  embarrassed  over  what  she  believed  would  be  a  private  breakdown.  “  i  can  leave  …  if  you  want.  ”

[urara-ra]

A casual angel has appeared! ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ̀ˋ.

[ymirgel]

𝐘𝐌𝐈𝐑 "𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐊" 𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐕𝐀𝐑 𝐕𝐄𝐈𝐋𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐒

this is all the decisions chosen by ymir throughout the transpiring events within veilguard's timeline;

tried to reason with varric & inform him persuading solas to stop rupturing the veil will not work.

chose harding to help disrupt solas's ritual.

she leaves the mayor to suffer as punishment for sacrificing the lives of villagers he was sworn to protect.

saved treviso. convinced by lucanis that meager merchants, traders & a gaggle of assassins can not face a blighted dragon and expect to live. weighing her options, she relied on the fact experienced shadow dragons & other mages of minrathous can, at the very least, defend their city long enough for survivors to flee & find shelter.

punches the first warden.

convinced harding the titans' rage cannot overcome her true heart.

convinced lucanis to sentence illario to prison.

convinced emmrich to sacrifice lichdom in order to revive manfred.

she accepts the threads' deal. & convinces neve that she is the inspirational hope and representation of honor that dock town needs.

she encourages taash to embrace the culture of rivain, believing their mother thought it would be a safehaven for their child. and doing so, honor their mother through rivaini traditions.

convinced davrin to return the griffins to the wardens.

encourages bellara to keep the archive, to learn of their ancient elven history. and to honor the effort she and her brother put forth into locating the artifact.

ordered davrin to take charge at tearstone island, becoming the ultimate sacrifice.

chosen bellara to dismantle the wards, which seized elgar'nan to abduct her thereafter.

at the final war council meeting, ymir chose neve to defend the veil jumpers, lucanis to join with the crows, taash to help defeat the juggernaut & for them to defend the frontline of Divine's Manor.

ymir, in all her fury, decides to fight solas, & eventually lands a blow with his own lyrium dagger penetrating his abdomen, thus whisking him away into the fade imprisonment.

[ofdragcn]

closed starter for : @steelfyre , @ravasz , @unbowcd , @ichorsveined &&. @sacrificeds

an eye squinted against the viewfinder, they were practically on the ground trying to get the perfect shot of daffodils against the skyline. a perfectionist — visenya had been in that position for around twenty minutes now. and they almost got it, until a stranger stood right in front of the lens causing a huff of protest. "you mind shuffling outta the way?"

[stefandiaries]

#stefandiaries ⸻ MUTUALS    ONLY.   turned   by:    ( 𝓁isaries )   ♡     25 +, she/her idependent & selective stefano giuseppe salvatore    BOOK    BASED   /   L. J. Smith VAMPIRE DIARIES * highly divergent ♱

*A STUDY IN: (. . .) he walks among the shadows of his own heart. the monster & the hero are intertwined in their essence ⸻ a mosaic of pain & sacrifice. a melancholy poem written on the pages of a life lived in the shadow of what he once chose to be. the brothers like two rivers (of blood) that flow together but never completely meet.

¹CARRD. ²PLAYLIST. ³MEMES.

*TRIGGERS : anxiety,  death,  blood,  murder,  depression,  violence, torture, ambiguous morality, internal conflicts, self-punishment etc;

[funbonded]

[  ⋆  ] ― ❝    Ah,  𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓  𝐅𝐈𝐓𝐙𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒 / @muses0fgracie !  ,  I  thought  I'd  have  to  wait  until  the  next  celebration  before  I  saw  you  sniffing  around  again  .  Not  that  I  mind  celebrating  a  birthday  .  I've  just  been  sooo  bored  ,  you  really  don't  know  how  to  treat  a  friend  .  𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐌𝐄  𝐎𝐍  𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇  !  for  so  long  !  ❞  As  he  is  quite  literally  bound  to  the  bench  .  He  sneers  ,  impossibly  just  articulating  the  arch  in  his  eyebrows  &&  parting  his  jaw  enough  to  form  it  on  his  visage  .

What  little  light  there  is  cast  in  grandpa's  workshop  reflects  a  mischievous  glint  .  ❝    That's  no  way  to  treat  a  friend  .  I  even  went  allll  out  for  you  on  Christmas  too  !  ❞

[hymnoire]

"and you.. who are you?" ( for my boy @homelander-rp-blog for any of your muses! for apocalypse au! )

Six months ago, during the war, Gaya fell and broke. Shot in the stomach, ejected through a window that cracked open, twenty floors high. Her spine shattered, her left arm snapped like glass, and her iliac wings were pulverized. She bled out on the pavement, dead. Technology had advanced in this new chapter of the world, enough to piece her body back together, enough to merge flesh with steel and thread her nerves through circuits. Her left arm and her spine were fully replaced, bionic. Neural pathways were rerouted through a matrix of living code. Her body healed, but she was no longer just human. Half a woman, half a machine. That same technology is what tore the world apart. It began in secrecy, in government labs chasing transcendence, trying to rewrite the limits of the human condition. But the secret didn’t stay buried. Titan, a terrorist syndicate with no face and endless reach, stole the research before the government could even lie about it. By the time Titan was found, it was too late. They were out for blood, and they got it. Gaya always believed humans shouldn’t play God and she was right. Sadly, she still failed to stop what came next. The war that followed wasn’t just civil, it was apocalyptic. Titan’s stolen tech created HumanAIs, hybrids built for war, programmed to kill who inevitably start killing regular humans. What started as a silent war became a global one, spiraling out of control. Now, what's left of humanity hides. Scattered. Starving. The cities belong to the HumanAIs who operate for Titan, soulless, and ruthless. The rest of the world is a crumbling wasteland of rusted skeletons and toxic air. Humans live in exile, in otarcy, a kind of existence where survival is a full-time job and trust is extinct. Many wander the red deserts, where wind doesn’t blow and the sky forgets to rain. Gaya hasn’t awakened yet from her recovery and surgery, she still lies in a bed made of glass, intubated, in a room that’s kept hidden. A room watched over by Kaeleena.

Kaeleena stands like a ghost wrapped in ivory, a vision so pristine it feels offensive. Her dress is immaculate, the color of untouched snow, stitched from something too soft to be real, yet too perfect to be fabric. It clings and drapes with eerie fluidity, a high-collared robe that splits open like a ceremonial blade down the front, revealing thin bands of gold coiled along her ribs. Ornamental and useless, like jewelry meant for gods. Her feet are bare. Clean. Silent. She moves like she’s never touched the ground. The room she inhabits is an aberration in this post-collapse world. A sanctum of impossible luxury carved into the bones of Titan's supremacy. Glass walls rise around her like cathedral windows, refracting artificial light into dancing gold across the marbled floor. A single desk dominates the room, sleek and angular. Behind her, a massive screen displays with schematics, pulse maps, surveillance grids, and living files. One of them is labeled simply: Gayane. Cables slither from the ceiling like lazy serpents, some plugged into her desk, others drifting, whispering data and venom. The air smells of antiseptic and something older, like ozone or blood. Kaeleena leans against the edge of the desk, absurdly at ease in this sanctuary of horrors. Her eyes are pale, too pale to be fully human anymore. She was once, like all of them. When she smiles, it is with the slow satisfaction of someone who has already won. Her presence is cold. Where Gaya burned, Kaeleena freezes. She doesn’t need horns or claws. Her power is in her poise, her intelligence, and the certainty that she knows everything. Every path, every death, every betrayal. She watches John with the look of someone who already knows how the story ends. He is being escorted, not dragged or restrained, merely shadowed by the men who guard Titan’s inner sanctum. She has been expecting him. When he enters, she smiles, the curve of her lips dangerous. He asks who she is. Even if she would love to kill him, she doesn’t. Not yet. For the love of the game. “I do wonder,” she says, voice smooth as oil over glass, “if Gayane ever spoke of me, darling. I sincerely hope she did. If not... I shall be very disappointed. And I do not wear disappointment well.” They look exactly alike, Gaya and Kaeleena. Same eyes, same bone structure. But where Gaya kept the storm in her dark hair, Kaeleena bleached hers into light, so pale, almost white. Their auras, however, could not be more different. Gaya was the flame. Kaeleena, the frost.

“Who am I?” she repeats, stepping closer. Her voice is steel. “I am the villain in your precious narrative, John. Welcome to Titan. Our empire is sacred, and I…” She smiles again, this time with teeth, deranged and proud. “I am its High Priestess.” She knows exactly how far he’s come. Crossed the red deserts. Walked through cities infested with soulless machines. All for her. “Don’t tell me,” she purrs, circling him now, like the serpent in Eden, “you came all this way simply to meet your sister-in-law.” Her tone turns mocking, cruel in its sweetness. “What is it, then? Have you come to steal my beloved Gayane away from me… instead?” She leans in, eyes wide with exaggerated sorrow, a hand drifting to rest against her heart, as though to calm some violent flutter within. “I have peered into her mind, you know. I have seen the two of you, watched those fivelong years unfold like pages in a sickeningly intimate little novel. The investigations, the dates, the whispered conspiracies, the moments where death breathed down your necks and you clung to each other like lifelines. And then, of course, the sweet, sweet love-making. I love yous in Missionary aren't as cute as you think they are.” Her lips curl with disdain, like the very memory leaves a taste of ash on her tongue. Psychotic and jealous? “She loves you. More than she ever loved me. Can you fathom that?” A low, brittle laugh slips from her throat, somewhere between a sob and a knife dragged across silk. She's deranged. “It shattered me,” she says softly, with a tragic little tilt of her head. “I’m terribly sensitive.” Then, just as quickly, her gaze turns. The softness evaporates, replaced by something cold and merciless, something that cuts. “So tell me, John,” she murmurs, voice tightening. “Do you want her back… or not?” She steps back, just slightly, her hands clasping behind her back, posture impeccable, like a queen awaiting terms of surrender. “Because I am not above bargaining and I always enjoy a good negotiation. That's how we can get to know each other.”

[sanctified-sanctuary]

⋆♱⋅⟡⋅♱⋆ @lured-into-wonderland ⋆♱⋅⟡⋅♱⋆ 〝Are you always this straightforward with strangers ?〞 for Cassian {Nunnally 🙴 Cassian}

Cassian regards her with a bemused look, shoulder leaning against the bookcase shelving with an open book in one hand lazily cast aside. Strangers… Does she not recognize him? It has been some time since they last crossed paths but Nunnally hardly seems the type to forget a familiar face.

There's only one way to find out he supposes, 〝I’m always this straightforward in general. Though would you have preferred I not offer any assistance?〞

Cassian had spotted Nunnally after he arrived to the library, a large history and non-fiction focused resource catalogue curtesy of the local university he 〝attended〞 on occasion. He found their considerable selection one of the more interesting of the many places he’s been, though he didn’t anticipate seeing Nun here considering she was rather sheltered last he knew.

Perhaps it was the sheer size of the university and it’s prestigious reputation that allowed her family to approve of this, or maybe Nunnally had come to be in his selfsame situation after all this time.

The reason he came to be speaking with her now a matter of vertical impairment. It seemed a book on one of the upper shelves had caught her interest but there were no step stools or ladders in the immediate vicinity. He watched her from afar for a bit attempting to jump, climb, and knock the shelves before deciding to put his almost unnatural stature to good use.

With nearly a foot difference between the two, him standing at 6’7 without his wings, he grasped the book easily and that was now the one open at his side. Flipping through the pages, there didn’t seem to be anything he would note of importance, 〝what is it about this particular novel that had you nearly scaling the shelves to reach it?〞

Shifting bronze eyes hidden behind gold aviator glasses enchanted to disguise them as a deep warm brown look between the pages and Nunnally. 〝The Nunnally I know had little care for historical affairs.〞

[g0spels]

𝐍𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄 ... originally founded in 1922, in response to the american prohibition of alcohol. began as a relatively basic underground bar catering to humans &. beasties alike, then transformed into a flourishing business after the prohibition ended. in a sense, there are two 'nocturnes' per location. the above, &. the below. the above is meant for the general population; humans who wander in seeking a drink, co-workers meeting after a shift, the regular folk. if you happen to stumble upon the downstairs door, a stoic bouncer with fierce canines will redirect you. the below is heavily restricted to beasties only. vampires, primarily — but other creatures are welcome ( conditionally ). down there, blood is readily served to patrons — sourced from medical clinics, &. often, there are paid, consenting donors available for a fresh feed.

𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 can be found in san francisco, florida, barcelona, prague, quebec, &. milan.

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐛𝐞 ... low - light, typically a warm champagne color. no neon or flashing lights. the above is meant to appear understated, slightly rustic — yet still sleek, clean &. classy. decorative foliage all around. plush red barstools &. booths with leather cushions. the bartenders she employs are always friendly but also take-no-shit types. there's often live music performing. as for the below, everything is bathed in a red hue shining down from elegant chandeliers. the barstools &. booths are black leather, every accent is authentic crystal. the music is a pleasant volume, not stifling conversation — &. the genre varies, though jazz is the most common. there's always at least two undercover security officials monitoring the downstairs.

𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐬 ... muse stumbles into nocturne unaware of what it truly is. muse approaches cecily in nocturne unaware of who she is. muse starts a fight in nocturne that cecily has to handle. cecily invites muse for a night out &. takes them to nocturne.

[holystates]

♱　　—　　sanctuary  church  @  9pm ♱　　—　　open  to  anyone

♱　　effie  doesn't  want  to  be  at  this  potluck.  too  many  people,  too  much  social  interaction  to  be  had,  and  not  enough  time  for  solitude.  but  of  course,  father  romero  had  insisted,  and  it  was  his  idea  in  the  first  place,  so  who  was  effie  to  refuse?  they'd  eventually  find  solace  inside  the  church,  within  the  confines  of  a  confession  booth  with  a  cigarette  between  their  lips,  the  echoes  of  people's  voices  all  but  background  noise  drowned  out  by  effie's  thoughts.  a  shadow  looms  over  them  as  they  stub  their  cigarette  out  on  the  wall,  and  for  a  second  effie  thinks  it's  satan  himself  dragging  her  to  hell  for  her  blatant  act  of  sacrilege  until  she  looks  up  at  the  figure  standing  before  her.  “  can  i  help  you?  ”

[h-ironosarchive]

and you look half dead half the time, monitoring you like machines do. you've still got it, i'm just keeping an eye.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 INTRODUCING ⋮ #THEMOON

♯ ┆ droid00732 tsuki . ⟡ 𓂅 any/all . japanese-korean . 5024 ( twenty4 ) . discarded ai bot made for humans, trying to find her place in the world . unaware ー single .

𐔌 ⋮ exploring ﹕ the sense of self between robot and human, how to love, struggles of forgiveness, navigating human emotion . inspired by kunikuzushi, violet evergarden, headlock by imogen heap, & general cybercore aesthetics .

♯ ┆ carrd . pin . playlist .

[sulezgirl]

for: @dopplgaenger .

meredith held her books tightly, balancing them against her hips as she walked around the school grounds. i had just reminded bonnie about the new french activity they needed to do in pairs, something that her friend had already completely forgotten. she watched as bonnie, with her signature strawberry scent and her head always in the clouds, absentmindedly thanked her and said goodbye, leaving her behind as she rushed to her next appointment.

as meredith's dark eyes followed bonnie's retreating silhouette, she felt a presence around her. his attentive eyes fixed on a girl crossing the lawn, somewhat out of place among the other students.

there was something about her posture, the careful way she examined every detail around her, that revealed her attempt to adapt. meredith, always perceptive, couldn't help but analyze it minutely, looking for any clue that could reveal the identity of this stranger.

meredith's eyebrows furrowed slightly as she watched the new girl making her way towards the hallways. An uneasiness came over her, a peculiar feeling, almost like déjà vu. It was as if her had seen that figure before, but for some reason, his memory refused to place it.

she clutched her books against her body, trying to stave off the growing discomfort. did her know her? the idea seemed absurd, but the lingering feeling couldn't be ignored. meredith knew she would need to look closer.

[bledthrus]

got two more batches of icons done tonight ! only have 10 more muses left in total left to re - icon, but i think tomorrow i'll focus on redoing marcus's icons and then make icons for aristeia since my muse is quite high for her atm, and then i'll FINALLY start writing. ill most likely chip away on other icons during the weekend as i just wanted to focus on redoing icons for who i have the highest muse for atm to start with so i can actually write omg. but for now its my bedtime, i had a very emotionally exhausting day and need sleep BAD. goodnight everyone <3

[londonfallen]

"Do you remember what it was like when you first fell in love?" / adrifires

" of course i do, " it snorts, somewhat incredulous—like the question itself bears so obvious an answer to them both that it's stupid to ask to begin with. but it knows better than that. adrien still bore a great deal of his humanity, coming from kine; where it, even with its many thousands weighing heavy on its back, was still adapting to human nature. of course it's a fair assumption then, that the process of how they fell in love would be different. it slides an empty plate 'cross the countertop, closer to him, as it lays itself over the cool surface, head resting 'gainst its shoulder. " i don't expect it to be revelation ... i do think you'll find it earlier than you anticipated it. "

its ears twitch, taking in the soft busying sounds as he clamors behind the counter. cups and platters clinking together as they're shooed away, or the soft hiss of steam from nearby kettles, its a calmer atmosphere, here, where the sign outside stays flipped closed for sake of its own visit. it always did have a habit of scaring off the customers, whether intentionally or not. he can bear to open a little later. it hums.

" i was already rather smitten with you, i admit, when our ... " a low whistle, as its gaze trails up to one of the foggy, dim lights. new technology, all considered, but it makes for a good distraction when it's expression twists contemplative : there's a lot of ways to describe their relation's start. some less appropriate than most. its claws rap 'gainst the countertop for a time before it settles with, " ... meetings, so to speak, became more frequent. but i loved you before then. when i realized there was something yet possible to slip through my fingers, there was this— " it waves its hand in vague gesture, sleeve swaying loosely with the motion. " —inexplicable ache, right here. " it's hardly a stretch, when it reaches out to draw its claw 'gainst his chest, hooking over the top of his apron with a soft quirk to its lips. " my constant pursuit of you was more or less for your attention, rather personal. you didn't seem all too pleased for it then, but i felt such great comfort and ease simply by being near you. i hadn't thought i worried so much until i felt what it was like to worry less. "