#aestasetbruma

[llionheartcd]

@aestasetbruma liked

     “That doesn’t seem very wise. That’s all I can say. Whether you do it or not is up to you.”

[a-deadly-magic]

death, curses, number 13

Death: Name one thing your muse has lost that they wish they could get back.

His humanity. His overuse of magic to keep himself alive has turned him into something a little less than human. He might be able to pass as one, even with his birthmark, but he’ll never belong among humans again - or anyone, for that matter.

Curses: Does your muse believe in good/bad luck? How about karma?

Of course. He believes whatever kind of energy you give out the universe will give back tenfold. Probably why he has such bad luck.

Number 13: Does your muse believe any superstitions? 

He lives in a town with ghosts, werewolves, vampires and the like. If he didn’t believe the local superstition he wouldn’t have lasted so long. Course, he’s still a skeptic, but he prefers doing a bit of in depth research before he claims something to be false.

[aloststcr-blog]

@aestasetbruma liked

    Crimson was starving. When was the last time she had eaten anything? Days, weeks? She couldn’t even begin to try and think about it. Her head was pounding. She swore her skull would soon break open and cave into her mind. Her stomach howled like a dying animal despite her constant attempts to silence it. She thought she had mastered the art of finding parts of her body, mind, and heart that she found inconveniencing and shutting them off like a switch. But every time she clenched her stomach as it twisted in knots over something she didn’t have, she was forced to confront how wrong she was.

     She knew she’d have a bit more control over her hunger if an intoxicating smell wasn’t invading her nostrils. It was coming from a woman, one who clearly had food. For a brief second, Crimson wondered if she had any to spare. But the idea of asking for a handout was uncomfortable. Not daunting or even humiliating, just unpleasant. How would it look anyway? A stranger dressed in oversized clothing taken weeks ago from a laundromat looming over her until her request wore her down to sand and bone. But it was either starve until she got her hands on something else to eat or face the discomfort that came with asking for something that wasn’t hers. Her mouth salivated like a wild beast, her eyes devoured the woman’s food from a distance. She had no choice but to approach her.

    “Are you going to finish all of that?”

[charmiier-archive]

(ノ ;ヮ; )ノ❤️

let me love you || accepting

Have I ever mentioned that i adore bird names? like if ur named after a bird I will give you my soul. 

fdshjdsfh that being said not only do you have great taste in character names but you also have amazing characters, like we’ve had very limited interactions and I am already in love with the sisters as well as your top-notch writing!! I can’t wait to write with you more!

[cxnsigliere]

what's King's opinion the Fourth of July and fireworks? does/did he ever celebrate it? how?

He always thought it was pointless! The rest of his family did too and never celebrated it--especially since much of his family wasnt from America, many of them having immigrated from / lived in both Italy and france.

He also reeeeallly hates fireworks. One time when he was 22 he was trying to sleep and the fireworks woke him up, so as any rational person would do, he responded by taking a gun, going outside, and shooting at the sky three times, sorta to counteract the fireworks in his own dumb way. Naturally neighbors called the cops, but because of his influence, he never got in trouble for it.

[seiyrra]

♡ + ideals

The plague has been a problem on Hera for most of the planet’s history.

As a young girl, back when her father was merely a chieftain and not a president, Seiyrra and the rest of the Echen tribe went out into a specific field to harvest a rare apple that grew only once every five years. Once the Echen took what they could, they marched back home.

One the road home, the passed a plague victim: a boy no older than Seiyrra was at the time. With no cure for the plague, Seiyrra’s father merely passed the boy, holding Seiyrra close. “There’s nothing you can do,” he said. Seiyrra, however, immediately disagreed. When his head was turned, Seiyrra stole two apples and tossed them at the boy.

From that moment on, she has always believed in helping people who struggle in any way. It was this mode of thinking that gave birth to Seiyrra’s Hunting Party.

[inadeepanddarkdecember]

Huddled for warmth in icy caverns glimmering with the collective light of young ianthina, Cyrus had once listened quietly to stories of sea dwellers like himself that had settled in the south. He was told some had traded their amphibious nature for a tail and far more powerful flashing fins; that others longed for a life nearer to the surface and lost their glow to the sunlight; and still others discarded their warmth and learned to sing so well they could singlehandedly fell a landdweller’s ship with nothing but song alone. Always, these stories were framed as depraved acts, the pursuit of individual desire at the price of anywhere these outcasts might belong. When he was young, Cyrus had wanted to meet them.

Now, he had become one of them. Floating upon a piece of driftwood in southern waters, he had defied the ianthina’s cardinal rule: do not travel alone. Sometimes, he wondered if he would one day wake up changed, but nothing of the sort had happened yet. He was still stuck in the same old broken body.

Tonight, what woke him was the sound of song, more beautiful than any he had heard before. He remembered the stories, hazy in memory. Perhaps, the fanciful childhood dream he had was going to come true. In a soft pulse, the bulbs on his antennae and white spots on his skin glowed blue for a moment as he brought himself more fully to awakeness, then slowly but surely, he paddled nearer to the source of the sound.

@aestasetbruma

[abditoryx-archive-blog]

@aestasetbruma​ | starter call

what started as a light humming to match the soft piano from somewhere below him began to turn into words, slowly making lyrics going along with the melody while being out on the balcony.

he might've gotten ahead of himself though, as his voice began rising to the point where you could hear it quite well but he was lost in thoughts and didn't think about how loud he was being.

[merrickals]

starter for @aestasetbruma​~

Plfffff - pop!  pop! ...BOOM!!!

weeeeeeeeeeeeeoooooooooooohhhhhhhhh! weeeeeeeeeooooooohhhhhh!

“...Oops.”

Merrick hadn’t meant to cause another explosion.  He really hadn’t.  But he must’ve miscalculated the pressure in the beaker, for there he was, knocked back to the floor by the blast and slowly being drenched by the sprinklers set off by the resulting smoke.  Hoooooo, boy.  I've REALLY done it this time, he thought, his sheepish smile slowly fading as he met the professor’s baleful gaze.  She glared at him for a moment, but must have decided that there were more pressing matters than scolding the symphoric student;  the professor merely gave a long-suffering sigh and picked up the phone to speak over the building’s loudspeaker.

“Attention students and staff.  There has been a chemical complication in Chemistry Lab 203b.  Please evacuate the building in a calm and orderly fashion while we wait for the situation to be settled.”

As they quickly filed out of the room, down the stairs, and out through the doors, students snickered, scowled, or exasperatedly rolled their eyes.  This was not the first time they’d had to evacuate that semester, nor did they expect it to be the last with Merrick “borderline (albeit accidentally so) arsonist” Reever in their class.  Merrick, for his part, was a little embarrassed, though not entirely remorseful for his actions.

“Hey, at least the explosion was pretty cool!  Did you hear that ‘BOOM’?!  Really exciting!  I bet all the people stuck in lectures appreciated it~” he jabbered to his lab partner, who had her head in his hands and was wishing she’d been stuck with literally anyone else.

“...From now on, you aren’t allowed to handle anything remotely unstable,” she growled, and stalked off to rant to a friend.

“Hey, wait!  What about volatile stuff?  If it’s just going to evaporate, I shouldn’t be able to blow that – oof!” In his distraction, Merrick hadn’t noticed the petite girl before him, and collided with her shoulder, sending both sprawling.  “Awww yikes... um, are you alright?  I’m really sorry, I didn’t see you there!” He sprang up, offering a hand to the victim of his clumsiness.

[a-deadly-magic]

1, 5, 7

1. How does your magic work, generally speaking?

“Well, it depends on which kind. The human kind works like your usual witchcraft. A few choice words, a weird hand gesture, some purple-ish lights and sparks, boom we’ve got magic. The other magics I use, such as fairy and demon, are harder to explain. Both are nonverbal but require focus and fairy needs written, carved or traced runes. Both also require some physical strain, more so than the average witchcraft, and in order to cast certain spells, I have to have some sort of conduit or artifact to strengthen my magic.”

5. What are the limitations of your magical ability? 

“The limitations of my abilities is actually based on my energy, health and what I’m willing to lose, sacrifice or beg for. All magic is physically and mentally draining, and if you’re not careful, using too much at once can kill you. Organ failure isn’t uncommon, especially in humans who use the sort of magic that I do. I’ve had a kidney failure scare before, and have suffered internal bleeding from ruptured arteries. Otherwise, while I can kill someone, reanimate the dead, or refill my dreadfully empty wine glass and move objects, I can’t control other people, animals or weather. Nor am I telepathic and I don’t have visions of the future.”

7. What, if any, magical tools do you use? 

“Conduits, mostly. They can be just about anything, but I prefer amulets, rings, wearable things so I can’t lose them. They’re a pain to make, y’know. Ritualistic magic requires quite a few, though, mostly ceremonial knives, candles, compasses, sometimes tarot cards, the occasional bone or stolen corpse…Others use wands, too, but after much dedication and practice I don’t use one. Gems and stones are useful, as is sage, dreamcatchers, typical items you can find in any witch store. Ah, and spellbooks, but that’s pretty common knowledge.”

[virginl-a-blog]

❝     i'm  not  as  ugly  as  i  once  was  . . .     ❞           //     @aestasetbruma  ♡’d    —    🎧 .

[cxnsigliere]

what flower/plant would you use to represent King and why? what would he choose to represent himself?

i usually associate him with just plain ol red roses a lot??? bc those are typically used in romantic settings and their meaning is like “romantic love, passion, lust”, all those types of things. i know its probably pretty cliché, but thats kinda the thing–king’s a hopeless romantic, and a lot of his passion for other people that he loves in a romantic sense derives from things like old-fashioned black and white movies that are cheesy as hell, you know, the type of romance that you’d only see in media, on king’s surface anyway, before he snaps and goes all crazy rIP. but king’s love in general is supposed to be kinda cliché, but with a twist to it you know

[frailborn]

「  ❛  ☆  ⊱  ﹠﹠ ˢᵗᵃʳᵈᵘˢᵗ⋅  ━  」

         ❛  ━━  lark??  ❜     came  tentative  whisper.  words that  escaped  cerise tiers were  hushed,  stemming from the  silence  that hung in the cafe   (  devoid of  people,  of life  ).  her arms,  where  paperwork  rests upon  snugly,  tightened   (  threatening to  CRUMPLE  the sheets  )   in  growing  fear  ━━   a  paranoid  one she was!!  afraid of the  dark  &  unknown.

@aestasetbruma​   ♡’d

[vulpeculiar]

@aestasetbruma ♥’d !!

          It wasn’t as though Fey was hungry, he just really liked eating. Food wasn’t exactly a common necessity among the stars, this having been made clear when the snake monster refused to eat the goose, so down on earth Fey saw it was a luxury. Without money or any of the sort however, he obtained his food through. . . unsanitary means.

          Fey was playing in the trash. Long past his search for scraps, the boy with fox-like tendencies was simply digging through garbage to find as much as he could. It wasn’t pretty, and the same could be said for the backdoor of the cafe as leftovers and various other bits and pieces flung through the air onto the building. He had just finished rummaging through the bin when he heard the door creak open and someone peek out at the mess he had just made.

          Somewhat aware of his misdeeds, Fey stayed silent, softly slinking back into the bin.

[starryeyecl--a-blog]

@iniwan, @aestasetbruma​, @starbrosforever​ and @ncngdam​ replied to your post: alright so i have some good news and some bad news

Happy birthday! HAPPY BIRTHDAY !! Happy birthday!!! HAPPY BI RTHDA Y

tHANKS Y’ALL L  ; w ;

[llionheartcd]

aestasetbruma replied to your post: I don’t know why anyone would go to a casino for...

D: welcome home, casinos sound terrible?? but home is good

It was crowded and bad, lots of noise and people, not good for an oversized snail like me. Home is very good,, very safe n soft n nice