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There is a non-zero chance of me going on another light hiatus until July 3.

Work is getting busy before break again, so I may be very distracted with it. Apologies if I miss anything!!

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we're long gone, in that eternal flame

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Richard Le Gallienne, “To Mildred”

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that's my mom!!!!

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Lowkey whats the point

honestly ive stopped looking for some big revelation. ive just started saving up to buy pain au chocolat once a week and letting that be it for now

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eden's promise 💜 another print that I will have available at yeticon!

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instagram | photos are my own, reblogs fine, do not repost/reuse

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CONTENT WARNING: Hallucinations, depression, miscarriage, death of a partner & spouse, grief & loss depiction, military themes AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is not, by any stretch, a happy drabble as it comes from one of the darkest periods of Blink's life. Its part of why I chose to write it in first person, so you could really feel her perspective when it came to these events. Even my old writing partner who was the pen behind Das/Judas wrote 'Wow. From Blink's perspective Das is a monster.' And from this period of perspective, they're not wrong. In the midst of being mentally manipulated, Das was 100% her boogeyman and I wanted to portray that accurately.

"This isn't a mistake— it’s a pattern, Soldier."  My own low toned words hung in the air, sharp and brittle as shards of ice, each gravelly syllable a calculated strike against my subordinate's composure.  I could feel his white, cold gaze, a glacial weight upon my back, emanating from behind.  I didn't need, nor did I particularly care to spare a glance over my shoulder; the weight alone told me everything.  I knew, with a certainty which chilled me more than winter in Illsabard, that his glower was boring into my very soul, dissecting my thoughts with tactical precision, just like my Husband before him.  To turn and look now would be to invite a deeper level of scrutiny, to acknowledge the power he held over me, and I was not willing to concede that victory.

If I looked now, I might see him— not just the subordinate, physically standing a respectful, yet unsettling, distance behind me— but the manifestation, the grotesque embodiment of my Husband’s spirit.  Das had been twisting the familiar sound of my own footsteps, haunting every mirror, every reflective surface upon which I cast my mismatched gaze.  His singular white eye haunted my reflection, a wicked visage born of my own insecurities and failures, always there, lurking just beneath the surface of reality.  He whispered temptations, urging me deeper toward the abyss.  Each glance into a window, each polished surface, encouraged violence, a dark solution to every problem, a seductive siren call in the tempest of my doubts.  He was a constant presence, a relentless pressure, and I felt myself teetering on the edge of giving in to his malevolent influence.

I cannot pinpoint the precise moment, the exact precipice where his thoughts began to mingle with my own, where his inner monologue seeped into the very fabric of my being.  It could have been amidst the claustrophobic corridors of that godforsaken void ship, a vessel that seemed to exist outside the realm of natural law, its cold walls echoing with unspoken terrors.  Or perhaps, now in the insidious merging occurring amidst the oppressive decay and stagnant rot of the 13th, a place where time itself seemed to fester and putrefy.  But one thing is starkly, terrifyingly clear: for what has felt like an eternity, his voice was not just an echo in my mind, but an inextricable part of my own.

When I tried to sleep, a child's wail, utterly out of place in the nocturnal stillness, would tear through the fabric of my missing dreams.  It was a jagged sound that instantly banished any semblance of rest, quickly draining me of my sanity after just a week of torment.  It was a sound that echoed not merely in the decaying air, but within the hollow chambers of my heart, resonating with a pain too familiar, too raw. The high-pitched sobs, thin and reedy, spoke of twins- two lives that had flickered briefly within me, only to be extinguished by grief before they truly began.  Two tiny souls I had yearned to cradle, to nurture, but who I was destined never to hold. My body, once a vessel of life, now felt like a barren wasteland, ravaged by some unseen blight.

While others might find solace in grief, allowing the tears to flow and the sorrow to ease, such luxuries were denied to me.  My path was a different one, a harsh and unforgiving terrain where sentimentality was a weakness I could ill afford among the horrors of voidsent.  Instead I was compelled to steel myself against the emotional onslaught, to push down the rising tide of despair, and to force my weary bones to continue on.  The hell I now inhabited was only partially imposed upon me by external force, but also happened to be a creation of my own making, a twisted labyrinth of circumstance and consequence from which there seemed no escape.  There was no turning back, no undoing the past.  Only the grim resolve to endure, to navigate the darkness, and to somehow, some way, find a way to weather the storm and free myself from the cold white one eyed judgement of their Father's ghost.

I had to remind myself the subordinate, physically standing a respectful, yet unsettling, distance behind me— was not the manifestation of Das.  I took a deep breath.

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something in the rhythm of your footsteps shifted everything - and that ceaseless melody that had for so long been immutable... changed.

gpose equivalent of scribbling notes down. vague idea of a first encounter in passing while Nyx is picking up some requests from Lahabrea at Anyder.

recap: Nyx can subtly hear the song of life woven through the stars/aether, and she's known for a long time 'thanks' to her mothers experiments that the chorus of existence bends towards oblivion, and though she's always kept this to herself, she's endeavored to find a means to 'fix it'.

playing with the idea that her mothers experiments fucked with her natural ability [just hearing the songs] with a slight fusion of her mothers ability [foresight]. Certain people she came across 'changed' the melody in ways that sounded 'better' or 'worse', and... well, the vibe is basically she's "tuning fate".

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I know everyone says it’s best to just stick to “said” as a dialogue tag bc it disappears and that’s true and I mostly do but I want to take a moment for my all-time favorite dialogue tag, “lied.” Absolutely nothing hits like “‘I’m here to help,’ he lied.” NOTHING.

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a wreath of blades

I've come here to save you, and I can already taste the kill Like caressing an angel burning up in the atmosphere And with the blood of a dying star above, My true aesthetic's unwinding, and I'm about to come undone

The weapons pictured:

Ame-no-Habakiri, Zenos's favorite katana

Hydaelyn's sword

Haurchefant's sword

Estinien's lance

Naegling, Aymeric's sword

Shiva's sword

Shattered Heart, formerly Zephirin's sword, now O'ravi's

Misos (I was going to use Emet's greatsword but I didn't think it would be recognizable enough, so I used this instead)

Gaius's gunblade

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junelezen day 5 : ice around the heart.

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𝕃 • 𝔼 • 𝔾 • 𝔸 • ℂ • 𝕐

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peindre l'amour, peindre la vie sur la toile notre vie s’écrit

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Damn, the tank set is pretty. Shame that hat can't go on hroth thought, Cinder needs it