lightiiisms-blog

[lightiiisms-blog]

i.  You were created for one purpose  &&  one purpose only: to assemble the atoms of the universe together  &&   CREATE.  The writers of this reality breathed life into you &&  suddenly there you stood; shining, glittering,  &&   PROUD. They wove you a companion---one who would balance you---&&  gave him the powers of DESTRUCTION.  He was your other half; your soulmate; your BROTHER. The both of you kept the balance---of night  &&  day, of dark  &&   light, of DEATH && REBIRTH. You loved him with a love that only a brother can possess. You were happy. Yet, in your IGNORANCE, you failed to see that the brother you claimed to love so much was falling deeper  &&  deeper into DESPAIR.

ii. You do not recall the moment when your brother  &&  the speaker  &&  their audience became one---became THE HUNGER.  You do, however, recall the moment you became THE LIGHT OF CREATION.  You stood there, your god-given talents powerless to stop the abomination your once beloved brother had become  &&  powerless to stop the ARMAGEDDON he brought with him, so you RAN.  You fled like the damn coward you are. &&  so in order to flee, you had to become something NEW. Your powers ripped you apart  &&  sewed you back together again  &&  you were TRANSFORMED into the being you are today: not god nor man but something  IN BETWEEN. 

iii. You were a vagabond.Traveling between the threads of reality cycle after lonely cycle as your brother---you have to stop that. YOUR BROTHER was no more.  You were alone.  The Hunger had taken his place. You were alone. It was hunting you. You were alone. Until... Until you weren’t. Until you were found by the SEVEN BIRDS whom you would soon call your family. You powered the STARBLASTER as you fled  &&  you watched as he consumed this plane just as quickly as the last. 

iv.   Betrayal tastes the same the second time around.

           about.  ||   rules.  ||  threads.

            sideblog to: electriiiclove.

[lightiiisms-blog]

@det-ect-ive​ || closed starter

   The hardest part, the Light supposes, is the fact that this boy never should have had to suffer through this battle in the first place. 

    As his hands so carefully && so intricately weaves the stowaway back to life, the Light’s chest aches. He should’ve been more careful, more OBSERVANT when he first powered the Star Blaster into the threads of reality---he knew, he knew, that the ship weighed more, that he sensed an extra life aboard, that perhaps there was something that required attention. Yet, the Light was SILENT. He disregarded his senses. && Agnus paid the price.

     Apollo doesn’t think he’ll ever forgive himself for it.

     The form of Angus McDonald shines brightly on the deck of the Star Blaster as the Light threads the last of the light on top of the boy’s head. He sighs && claps his hands together && the fallen boy is resurrected. 

“ Hey kiddo! ” He puts on a fake smile, “ Welcome back! Ha! Didn’t think I forgot about you, did you?! ”

[lightiiisms-blog]

[lightiiisms-blog]

bunch of random taaco twins

[lightiiisms-blog]

@havsstrand​ || starter call (accepting!)

    It was a later cycle in the years the IPRE && the Light spent fleeing the Hunger. The Light was tired. Emotionally drained from seeing the wrath of his once beloved brother consume && destroy innocent planer systems && watching as he was powerless to stop it.

    But, at this very second, the Light had bigger fish to fry.

    “Look buddy,” The Light sighs && gives his handcuffs a tug, “I’m not a ‘weapon’ or whatever. I’m just’a, uh,” What could he even say? No mortal had the abilities this gnome had witnessed him perform, yet he was not powerful enough to be considered a deity. He was somewhere floating around those titles, dancing on the line that separated the two from each other. 

     The Light looks down at his handcuffs. It would be so simple to break out of them; even with the magics laced within them. But he knows that if he does break free && run, the crew would more than likely be spending the year being hunted. Amber colored eyes roll to express his discontent as he turns to face the wizard.

      “Listen, it’s a really long story. It’s just easier for everyone if you let me go. I promise I’ll be out of your hair for the rest of the, uh,” The Light shrugs a bit, “Time I’m here.”  

[lightiiisms-blog]

@dxdger || starter call (accepting)

    Apollo was a coward.

    This he knew to be true.

     As soon as the Animus Bell was combined with the staff, the Light’s form was reconstructed. Lucretia’s plan was to wield the power of the Light, yet had failed to take into consideration the explosion that would take place once all seven pieces of him were together again. The Light burst from the oak staff in a firework display of light and energy---&& once he saw Lucretia’s face, he RAN.

      He sensed his brother’s---THE HUNGER’S---presence as soon as air filled his newly formed lungs &&immediately knew the end of this plane’s existence was upon them. But the coward ran. He did not know where the rest of the IPRE crew was, didn’t even know where he himself was, but still he ran. Hoping his feet would carry him somewhere safe, somewhere where the reality of this situation wasn’t true. 

        That is, until, the Light ran into a small boy who happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. 

         “Ah, s-sorry. I didn’t---” The Light looks over at the child he had knocked to the floor && winces, “Wh-what are you doing out? Th-the outside! It’s-it’s not good out---”

[lightiiisms-blog]

✧ headcanon

Apollo’s powers work very similarly to his brother’s.

His light manifests itself from his hands in the same way the tendrils stem from the Hunger. Except, instead of looking like a black opal, his power has the same color scheme as an angel aura quartz.

[lightiiisms-blog]

Magnus!

                         the  chill  always  lasts  longest.    it,     consequently,    was  also  magnus’  least  favorite  part  about  the  whole  thing,    but  he  settles  anyway  because  he  supposes  that  just  comes  with  the  territory  &,    besides,    there  was  always  the  light.    still,    the  chill  always  took  longest  &  magnus  knew  this  because  it  was  his  least  favorite  part  so  therefore  he  felt  it  most.    therefore  it  affected  him  most,    creeping  into  centerfolds  of  heart  &  making  a  resting  place  here  ’tween  ribcage  as  he  faded  from  consciousness,     digging  talons  into  where  black  tendrils  now  strike  him  dead  &  begin  to  change  shape  of  him  as  it  prepared  to  take  over.     still,    there  was  respite.     a  light  from  the  dark,    a  final  hope.    a  warmth.    but  first,    the  cold.    first  the  death  &  the  dark  &  the  hunger  &  this  is  most  unforgiving,    it’s  his  least  favorite  part,    &  it  always   takes  longest  to  fade.     always  leaves  him  more  raw  &  open  &  shaken  &  less  human  than  before  &  magnus  knows  this,    but  he’s  panicking  now  in  the  moments  of  consciousness  he’s  granted  between  worlds  because  it  was  never  like  this.    it  was  never  anything  that  had  felt  permanent,    never  in  a  way  that  made magnus  afraid.     the  light  always  saved  him.    the  light  always  saved  him.

                      there’s  a  warmth.    blooms  from  center  of  chest  &  only  spirals  outward  from  there,     growing  &  enveloping  the  whole  of  him  as  he’s  made  whole  once  more.     there’s  a  warmth,    a  light,    bright  &  everpresent  &  falling  near  perfect  into  same  routine,    stitching  him  together  &  making  him  whole  once  more  &  the  form  of  magnus  that  materializes  now  can’t  help  but  smile  because  this  is  familiar.     he  can  never  quite  recount  the  sensation  of  rebirth  afterwards  but  he  lingers  on  edge  of  consciousness  now  &  he  can  feel  it,    can  sense  it  as  it  stitches  him  together  again  &  it’s  familiar  &  suddenly  magnus  isn’t  so  afraid  anymore.    he  knows  this.     he’s  done  this  before  ;  he  can  do  it  again.

             &  then  he’s  back  !     then  he’s  blinking  in  the  sudden  light  (  literally  ),    hand  coming  to  shade  eyes  as  he  blinks  in  rapid  succession  to  how  he’ll  step  back  in  surprise.    this,    however,    only  lasts  a  moment  as  he’s  smiling  wide  &  bright  once  more,    all  soft  &  bright  &  magnus,    as  he  hears  familiar  voice.     ❝   light  !  my  buddy  !  my  dude  !  how  are  ya  ?  doin’  well  ?  doin’  good  ?   ❞     surprisingly  nonchalant  for  having  just  died,    but  the  numbness  to  death  is  something  all  of  them  have  become  well  acquainted  with  by  now.     ❝   man,    you  tuned  out  fuckin’  ages  ago  !  it’s,    like,    cycle  fifty  five  now,    my  dude.    where  you  been,    homie  ?  !   ❞

   The Light gives a small sigh of relief when the fighter speaks && resumes his familiar rhetoric. There was always something akin to fear when he resurrects his fallen crew members in the fluff of the in between---that maybe he had made mistake somewhere in the CREATION process && the fallen wouldn’t return as themselves. That they would return to him as someone entirely new &&  the fallen would truly be lost. 

     However, the fear is soon dissolved when Magnus opens his mouth && signature enthusiasm greets him. Yes, yes this was indeed Magnus Burnsides &&he had successfully brought him back. The Light offers the newly resurrected a wide && joyous grin, “Hey! I, uh, I’m good! Jus’ y’know, fueling---”

     His head whips around to the ship’s engine to see that the extra boost he gave the engine is beginning to dim. The Light sharply inhales && runs back over to the engine, hands beginning to glow with power as he channels energy to his palms. Quickly, he slides back into plush chair && thrusts hands into the power chamber to make sure fuel didn’t run out. Energy stems from his core &&  channels down his arms && manifests itself as a soft white light in the center of his palms. The light then travels from palms to the core of the engine in thin rivers that perfectly resembled the tendrils that murdered his companion in the first place. The tendrils of his brother’s wrath. He swallows.

     The Light turns back to Magnus && smiles a bit sheepishly,  “Ah, sorry bud. I’ve been, uh, kinda out of it lately. Too busy... Thinkin’ about stuff.” He inhales through his nose && gives the engine an extra boost, “But hey! I said fifty-something! I was close!”

[lightiiisms-blog]

[lightiiisms-blog]

starter call for when i’m done vacation!

[lightiiisms-blog]

about page and rules are updated! like if u read? also itty bitty tag drop

[lightiiisms-blog]

@rushedin || closed starter

     As the Star Blaster passes the veils of the previous plainer system into the next, the Light’s hands steady its channel of power into the ship’s core. The hard part was powering this thing through the threads of the previous system into the sort of fluff between the next one;  now that he had successfully done so, channeling his power to land into the new system would be a breeze.

     The Light tilts up his head && does a mental count of the crew, Barry, Davenport, Lup, Ma—MAGNUS!  Head jerks up from the core as he looks out the window in desperation—ok, they were still in the threads in the in between, he didn’t miss the window. Not a second too soon, either. Giving the core an extra push to compensate for his brief recess, the Light turns to the empty area next to him && faces still-glowing palms out.

      Resurrecting the crew members wasn’t too hard; it just required an extra dose of concentration. He had to be quick, as well; any minute now the ship would enter into the new plane and the window to resurrect the lost would be gone. Eyebrows furrow as a pool of light begins to shimmer && glow on the surface of the deck. Wrists flick up && strings of white light emerge from the pool; another curl of fingers && they begin to twist && weave through each other to provide the foundation. The Light’s wrists turn upwards as he grits teeth in focus && summons more && more strands of light to weave in through one another && begin to take shape of the lost crew member. Hands raise to form his head—the extra effort he has to put forth tells him the window is closing, that he has to hurry before—

       The final thread is laced. The Light claps his hands together && the Magnus-shaped figure gives off a firework of luminous, white beams. The ship sinks into the next plane.

        “And there you go, buddy!” He smiles widely at Magnus, admiring his handy work, “Welcome to plane number… What is this, fifty something? I lost cost somewhere in Fungston.”