#nightmist

[gyorslab]

First time drawing DarkWatch since 2018! 2015 and 2018 drawings of the team under the cut :3

[brinkmage]

Time for one of my favorite fictional fictional characters, Sentinel Comics' Nightmist!

[lord-of-error]

Setback and NightMist crossed character

[vertex-stan]

Cosmic Contest Thoughts

How the hell did Blood Countess lose to Skinwalker Gloomweaver? Lifeline was able to tear Skinwalker apart with bloodmagic, and Blood Countess makes Lifeline's magic look like a joke. Add on Blood Countess having a relatively easy bracket, and Skinwalker having a pretty hard one, and Blood Countess should have torn him apart.

I love how Operative and Mr. Fixer's battle ended almost identically to when Operative killed him previously. Only difference is that Mr. Fixer got stronger from there, and is now beyond that.

Legacy could have won against Fanatic, if he had gone all out. He lost, not because his powers failed him, but because he failed to use his powers.

Nightmist really didn't need to torment Doctor Medico THAT bad.

[martygreg]

[shiningdesignersreflections]

Mercury: Feather Waltz

Awakened Suit: Feather Waltz

You can find the original suit here.

[electrofloat]

messy but thats OK! i wanted to try a new brush

[amethyst-halo]

oc stuff today

[animezinglife]

Nyx Headcanons

Headcanons for my favorite little bean, because we don't talk about him enough.

He 100% inherits Rhys's "earth-shattering" power. That extra chapter where Feyre and Rhys were deciding on a name and basically felt powers shifting in the Force when Nyx came up makes me firmly believe that.

He's a good, sweet kid but also goes through a few phases where he's an absolute nightmare to raise through no fault of his own. Nyx is a happy baby, but has zero concept of his power when it starts to show, leaving one very tired High Lord and High Lady when he shatters a window in his nursery when wiggling his arms excitedly.

He's an intuitive little guy though and very quickly figures out he needs to be careful when Feyre and Rhys try to teach him to get a handle on that power. He learns this the hard way after accidentally nightmisting one of his toys.

Nobody for the life of them can figure out why he adores cranky Auntie Amren so much. Though he's not old enough to explain it, he thinks she's another child to play with. Cassian suggests this and Amren nearly rips his head off.

Nyx is a full-fledged mama's boy. He adores Feyre and is a complete snugglebug with her. He's also very protective of his mama.

That said, he idolizes his dad too and copies everything he does. He follows Rhys around and mimics everything, right down to trying to copy the High Lord's graceful swagger. Feyre, naturally, absolutely melts at the sight of him waddling after his dad with one hand in his pocket looking too cool for school on his tiny little legs.

Nyx is obsessed with Starfall, and his first-ever painting is a finger painting of him with his parents under those stars. Rhys gets misty-eyed when he sees it.

He's besties with Kallias and Viviane's little snow angel. The fact they're the same age is perfect--when the grown-ups are too boring tending to one courtly matter or the other, Nyx and his friend can easily pass the time playing in the snow. Nyx already has met his match in the realm of snowball fighting, and takes a new tactic or two back to absolutely wallop his uncles. Rhys could not be more proud of this fact.

Nyx takes his role as Eldest Cousin very seriously, but there's one cousin in particular who absolutely does not and will not listen to a word he says. Guess whose kid that cousin is.

Nyx takes a little too much after his mother sometimes in that he befriends every semi-civil demon-thing or dark spirit that walks the face of the earth. To Uncle Cassian's absolute horror, Nyx is apparently friends with Bryaxis...and Bryaxis loves this kid.

[norcal44]

Underneath...351 Windsor 427 Stroker 5-Speed tremec Nightmist Blue

[gyorslab]

Well it’s been… several hours… this isn’t getting finished tonight

[jon-snows-man-bun]

By Turns

Chapter Two

Masterlist

The closer Eris gets to his goals the harder he has to work to keep all plates spinning. Tensions simmer underneath his new alliances, pulling him into the Hewn City where the impact of Rhysand’s rule shapes the future.

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x OC. Other pairings to be added.

Other featured characters: Elain Archeron, Lucien Vanserra, Azriel. Variable POV

Rating: E for Explicit. Minors DNI.

Warnings: misogyny, violence, torture and domestic abuse both on and off screen, sex, sexual violence, dubious consent, drug use, character death, no reliable narrators to be found. Further warnings to be added.

Find this fic on AO3

A/N: Aisling's dress (5 of 6).

———————

Aisling was sixty seven years old and had never seen the sun. The day dawned grey, as it always did; she knew no different.

She settled herself into the rhythms of her day: breakfast with her mother that the servants had prepared, reading or sewing or taking a stroll with a friend in the morning, reviewing information from the diamond mine in the afternoon.

Diamonds were the principal export of the City, and her family was fortunate enough to have a majority share in one of the largest of the four mines. They were wealthy because of it, and Aisling always thought this gave her more freedom than other females were granted. She was cautious not to take advantage of this, knowing full well what happened to females when goodwill ran out.

Without a male relative and with wives forbidden from inheriting property, the share had passed - unexpectedly - to her when her father died. Between this and the strength of her magic, Aisling could keep herself well insulated from the worst of the City beasts. She knew this could not last forever; the Hewn City was a closed cage, and in their boredom and fury at being trapped, no occupant was left undisturbed.

Her father had gone Under the Mountain - not her mountain, the other one - when she was eleven and died there when she was forty. She hadn’t seen him in the intervening twenty nine years, but her mother had told her dispassionately and Aisling had been savvy enough not to ask for details.

They never received a body, either. Her father had simply left and never returned. His corpse could have been burned or buried in an unmarked grave or flung into the sea, or perhaps there wasn’t a body left at all and the High Lord had nightmisted him and his body was now air. Aisling didn’t know, but they had his urn sealed in the family crypt as if he had been brought home. She visited him occasionally though she never knew what to say to him. I’m sorry, I loved you, you were nothing to me, who were you? Where did you go?

He had disciplined her no more than any other court father in the Hewn City, but she had been a well-behaved only child. Her only major transgression occurred when her power manifested in a sudden, sickening rush in her tenth year, but he never struck her for that. He often did not seem to know what to do with her, leaving her to her sewing and reading and dancing while he served in Lord Keir’s legion. He probably would have preferred her if she were male; daughters received far fewer privileges than sons in the City and wives even less.

He had died without arranging a marriage for her, something she had resented when she was younger but thanked his spirit for whenever she saw her peers tugging their sleeves down or cloistered away for days on end. Her mother had no interest in marrying her off, chiefly because that meant she herself would then need to re-marry, and hundreds of years beside a Night Court soldier had soured her to the prospect.

She had skated by for sixty seven years, learning to play act and fade from view, binding her mask to her face so tightly she sometimes couldn’t remember what she truly felt at night, alone in her bedroom. In some ways it was easier: if she actually felt nothing she wouldn’t need to pretend, so purging her emotions as ruthlessly as possible protected her by keeping her from slipping up. In this way she kept herself from being memorable, from attracting attention.

Lord Keir knew who she was, though, and what she could do; after all, it was him who summoned her father and herself to his home that horrible night when she was ten. He hadn’t forgotten her. Aisling doubted he would.

She had to come up with a plan to get out of the City. It was her home, it was all she knew, but she wanted to know more. Anger was the wage of every occupant of the City - who didn’t want to leave? Who didn’t resent being trapped here? - but hers was tinged with desperation.

Lord or lowborn, high fae or lesser, they all wanted more, and the anger and fear went around like Xian whispers.

Everyone was still talking about Eoin by the time of the celebratory dinner. It had been frightening, the way the Illyrian had grabbed him as if he was nothing, as if he was an animal. As Eoin struggled against him, darkness gathered around them like someone had flung a shawl over them, and then they were gone. In the morning, only the Illyrian had emerged. Eoin was simply vanished.

Like her father, Aisling supposed. The High Lord had addressed them all in a cold, vicious voice from his throne, telling them what fate awaited them if he heard any more threats against him or his family. Had Eoin threatened them? Aisling had heard a parcel of rumours, multiple versions of the story - only Eoin knew the truth, but they would never see him again.

The Darkbringer officers had been speaking in tense knots all through the reception, and Aisling could feel the energy in the room crackling around like lightning. She had been invited due to her father’s - now hers - majority share in one of the main diamond mines, and she now sorely regretted attending though she did her best to play her part. She smiled and made polite conversation with the steward’s wife, Lady Niamh.

And then Eris Vanserra was sat near her.

Her eyes were drawn to his hair like a magnet. No one had red hair in the Hewn City, and though Aisling had seen him from a distance in the throne room a handful of times, she had never been so close to him. Never close enough to see the high cheekbones, the aristocratic nose, the absolute vibrancy of him. He was pale enough to be from the City, but there was something about him, something fierce and hot and alive in a way they were not. His magic, maybe, so unlike anything in her home; or maybe it was just him, just that he was flame made flesh. Aisling felt very strongly that if she touched a single one of his elegant, long fingers she would be scalded and bear a scar.

They all said he would succeed his father and it was obvious why. He was power, and was radiant with it.

Lest she be caught, she kept her attention carefully away from him. She told herself she could look twice more if she did not err in conversation or make a misstep. But the harder she tried not to look, the more she felt conscious of herself, her face, the way she smiled; she felt edgy and nervous. She could hear his voice, the lilting drawl of it, smoky and rich. His scent - cedar, woodsmoke, something crisp and wild and fresh - was so enticing to her that she could no longer resist. Just once, Aisling told herself. Look at him once then never again. Lord Keir is right there and watching.

She swept her eyes along the table, and as if he were a magnet, her eyes met his. All at once she was hot all over, her stomach dropping to the floor. His amber eyes saw straight through her… and he sneered.

Aisling kept herself still and did not react only through practice. Embarrassment snapped at her, but she lowered her eyes demurely back to her wine and did not glance his way again. She supposed she wasn’t surprised; most lovely things in Night were terribly vicious. Beauty and cruelty were hardly exclusive of each other.

That night, she dreamt of a warmth she had never felt under a sun she had never seen.

———————

Eris didn’t return to the Hewn City for a month. In that time he fucked two raven-haired females, mounting them both from behind. He didn’t wish to see their eyes, their faces; they obliged him. Like most of his partners, he kept things impersonal, dismissing them as soon as they were finished. He had learned well from his brother’s mistakes.

He was kept busy in Autumn towns Beron had neglected over the centuries, telling his father he was shoring up loyalty and looking after the coffers in the fallout from Koschei and Briallyn; in reality, he was quietly looking after the populace. With Beron still living he couldn’t make the large changes he desired, but he could put his finger on the scale now and again.

Unfortunately it was never enough, and there would be more misery and death before he managed to kill Beron. Eris had accepted this reality long ago, but it still cut him afresh every time. His people deserved far better.

But he could further buy loyalty among the courtiers by increasing the supply of diamonds in Autumn, Eris thought witheringly as he winnowed to the Hewn City. Orphans were starving but as long as their mistresses had diamond necklaces, all was as it should be. It had its role, of course; he couldn’t ensure a smooth transition with a court that was too fractured, but he didn’t have to like it. He liked very little to do with Night, in truth.

Keir was meeting him with several other invested courtiers to further discuss the trade agreement. No Thanatos this time; nothing to do with the Darkbringers. All the better given that Rhysand had executed one last month. Eris imagined that was a wound that would not be easily healed, but didn’t bring it up.

In the chamber, diamonds were spilled over the table casually, spread out like marbles children would play with. Their lustre and crisp clarity was unique to the Hewn City mines, and he had never seen so many in one place. They were highly valued outside of Night but there were precious few merchants and dealers allowed to trade with other Courts - the High Lords kept the leash on the Hewn City chokingly tight.

The wealth heaped on that table was staggering. No wonder Rhysand kept Feyre slathered in elaborate diamond dresses and crowns.

The assembled courtiers around the table were all male, all pale and stone-faced like they were carved from rock themselves. That sort of mask was beaten into them from birth, he knew well enough. But at the end of the carved onyx table, furthest from him and Keir, sat the blue-eyed female from the dinner. Here she wore a violet and black dress, cut enticingly away in diamonds around the waist that showed her pale skin. While the neckline of the dress dipped low enough for him to admire the gentle swell of her cleavage, she wore a diamond necklace that hid the best of the view from him. Her bare arms were cuffed with more diamonds, and if there were sunlight, she would have glittered like an exotic butterfly.

Instead, she was merely a vehicle to further display their obscene hoard of diamonds. Keir waved a hand and introduced the courtiers, naming her last.

“Lady Aisling,” Keir said dismissively, giving no further justification to her presence. Aisling dipped her gaze demurely, and Eris willed her to look up, to let him look in her eyes once more. He waited as long as he dared in a crowded room, then took his seat and began to negotiate.

Aisling didn’t say a word the entire time. He didn’t expect her to, given what the Hewn City valued in its females, and he wondered why her presence was necessary at all. She seemed to be actually reading the documents, though; and she paid keen attention to whoever was speaking. Perhaps she had a brain in her skull instead of more diamonds rattling around, he thought dismissively; a shame the Hewn City ground females into dust instead of letting them show an ounce of will and intelligence.

If she had to wear a mask, far be it from him to out her, though he sparked with curiosity to know. His answer to the mystery of her presence came when they reached an agreement as to a fixed volume to be exported and her signature was required - she held a large percentage of the mine.

Wealthy, then. And no husband, or else he would be here in her stead speaking for her, and she would be tied to his bed frame. He wondered what opinion on the agreement she actually held, muted as she was.

As Keir led the courtiers out, business concluded for the day, Eris found himself unable to resist. Her necklace was elaborate, a crescent moon tipped on its side with an open eye in the middle, worked in diamonds - predictably - and onyx.

“Your necklace,” he said.

Aisling turned to gaze at him, her face ethereal in the dim fae light. She glanced towards the door once, at the retreating backs of the courtiers; he understood well enough that he had perhaps moments to speak with her. No more than a minute, but that was all he needed.

Males would drown in those eyes, he mused as she looked back at him. As unknowable as the ocean. Her polite smile didn’t change, but he had the sense she was studying him, making sense of his pieces. The diamond eye around her neck, balanced in the tines of the crescent moon, glittered at him darkly.

“What does it mean?” He asked, his voice low.

“My family’s sigil. For our gift - for the eye in here, my lord,” she explained, and she touched his brow with one finger so lightly Eris could have imagined it. Her wrist brought her scent to him, dark and floral in equal measures. His blood sang as soon as he caught it, magic humming under his ribs, in his lungs. His mouth watered.

He couldn’t help himself. It was almost instinct that made him take her wrist, circling it lightly with his forefinger and thumb. Her wrist was so slim, the bones so fine, he knew he could grind them to dust if he wanted; her wary dark eyes swallowed him up and knew it too. He held those sapphire eyes as he brushed his lips against her palm and was rewarded by her pulse suddenly racing under his thumb.

The scent of her… he breathed in once more, deeply, unable to pull away. Her face didn’t change but her eyes were liquid, darting between his and his mouth, and he could feel her pulse racing like a little rabbit in his snare.

“My lord,” she whispered, and the spell was broken. He released her, but she didn’t move for a long moment, hand fluttering down to her side, holding his gaze. He couldn’t read whatever was in her eyes, but she finally dipped her head, curtsying to him, and she fled in a swirl of violet silk. His last sight of her was the raven feather comb in her hair, her slim, pale arms glittering. Her scent left with her, and whatever had been building in him deflated as it did. After that, he couldn’t leave the Hewn City soon enough.

[queerturnofphrase]

i'm doing research for a name for a Sharran DND character, hopefully in the vein of Shadowheart and Nocturne and Nightmist from Baldur's Gate 3, and i have come to the realization that Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven fits the bill

[skyscratch-wc]

Skyfall AU Thunderclan Allegiances: Into the Wild

Leadership

Leader: Bluestar, a lithe blue-gray molly with blue eyes and a graying muzzle. Originally a warrior in the hunter sub-rank.

Deputy: Redtail, a stocky tortoiseshell tom with a distinctive bushy ginger tail and amber eyes. Originally a warrior in the protector sub-rank.

Cleric: Spottedleaf, a slender dark calico molly with amber eyes and a leaf-shaped tail

Senior Warriors

Head Protector: Lionheart, a large, broad-shouldered golden tabby tom with green eyes and a darker, thick mane of fur around his neck

Head Hunter: Patchpelt, a small, stout black and white tom with amber eyes

Head Crafter: Smallear, a thickset dark gray tom with very small ears, amber eyes, and nick in one ear

Head Collector: Nightmist, a wiry, very dark gray tabby molly with bright amber eyes.

Head Mentor: Goldenflower, a stocky, fluffy pale golden tabby molly with a small nick in one ear and yellow eyes. Currently in the nursery caring for her and Tigerclaw's litter.

Head Queen: Specklecloud, a lean, spotted pale golden tabby molly with amber eyes

Warriors

Protectors:

Tigerclaw, a large, muscular dark brown tabby tom with amber eyes and unusually long front claws

Whitestorm, a slender snowy white tom with amber eyes

Dapplewing, a stocky, dappled tortoiseshell molly with amber eyes

Willowpelt, a compact, very pale silver-gray molly with blue eyes

Wildfang, a lithe pale brown and white tabby cat with darker stripes and pale green eyes. Also serves as a Trail-Builder.

Hunters:

Rosebloom, a stout dark gray tabby molly with a bushy ginger tail and green eyes. Also serves as a Trail-Builder.

Owlsong, a thickset white molly with a single bright yellow eye. She is partially blind and deaf.

Longtail, a lean pale yellow tom with dark stripes on his back and face and green eyes. He has a v-shaped nick in his left ear and a long tail.

Mousefur - a small, slender dusky brown cat with blue eyes

Crafters:

Frostfur - a wiry snow white molly with dark blue eyes. Currently in the nursery caring for her's and Lionheart's litter.

Darkstripe - a thickset dark gray tabby tom with black stripes and yellow eyes.

Collectors:

Brindleface, a dainty pale gray tabby molly with darker flecks and green eyes

Runningwind, a lean light brown tabby cat with green eyes and a narrow face

Current Mentors:

Bluestar, leader and hunter, mentoring Firepaw

Redtail, deputy and protector, mentoring Dustpaw

Lionheart, head protector, mentoring Graypaw

Tigerclaw, protector, mentoring Ravenpaw

Whitestorm, protector, mentoring Sandpaw

Apprentices

Firepaw, a slender flame-colored tabby tom with bright green eyes. Former housecat.

Graypaw, a thickset dark gray tom with a darker striped on his back and amber eyes. Son of Willowpelt and Whitestorm.

Sandpaw, a lean pale golden tabby molly with barely visible stripes and leaf-green eyes. Daughter of Redtail and Runningwind.

Ravenpaw, a small, dainty black and white tom with large ears and green eyes. Son of Robinwing and Fuzzypelt.

Dustpaw, a stout dark brown tabby tom with amber eyes. Son of Robinwing and Fuzzypelt.

Nursery

Queens:

Specklecloud, Frostfur, and Goldenflower

Kittens:

Frostfur and Lionheart's litter:

Brackenkit, a golden-brown tabby tom with amber eyes

Cinderkit, a dilute tortoiseshell molly with blue eyes

Thornkit, a golden tabby tom with blue eyes

Brightkit, a golden and white molly with blue eyes

Goldenflower and Tigerclaw's litter:

Swiftkit, a black and white tom with amber eyes

Elders

Robinwing - a small, compact dusky brown molly with a ginger patch on her chest and amber eyes

Fuzzypelt - a broad-shouldered, spiky-furred black and white tom with yellow eyes and a thick tail

Sparrowpelt - a large, frail dark brown tabby tom with yellow eyes and a short tail

______________________________________________________________

Notes:

Characters that have been renamed:

Speckletail -> Specklecloud

Dappletail -> Dapplewing

Rosetail -> Rosebloom

Halftail -> Sparrowpelt [kept canonical warrior name]

One-eye -> Owlsong

Characters that have been "revived" from canonically deceased kits:

Nightkit/Mistkit -> Nightmist [sister of Tigerclaw]

Lynxkit -> Wildfang [sibling of Longtail]

Characters who are a different gender than they are canonically:

Mousefur, molly -> non-binary (demi-girl)

Runningwind, tom -> non-binary

(^^non-binary chaos siblings yesssssss)

Wildfang, tom -> agender

Redtail is a trans tom in this rewrite, unlike canon where he is a cisgender tom.

[shiningdesignersreflections]

Mercury: Nightmist Aria

Designer's Reflection: Nightmist Aria

Obtained: Lodden's Night SSR gacha

Rarity: SSR

Attribute: Green/Fresh

Awakened Suit: Feather Waltz

Story - transcripts from Designer's Reflection

Chapter 1 - Secret Mission

Chapter 2 - Matter of Life and Death

Chapter 3 - Reserved Situation

Chapter 4 - Surging Undercurrents

Story - summarized

In the middle of the night, three black cars drive down a road to Lodden Hotel. The middle car carries Leonid's Manuscript and two men, Joe and Lande. All is quiet and normal during this mission.

Almost too quiet and normal.

The squad is ambushed by a mysterious man, and only Lande is alive now. The mysterious man turns out to be the infamous criminal Scorpionfish - and he wants the manuscript!

Lande tries to fight back... he is mind-controlled by Scorpionfish. He can't move. He's stuck in place. His life is in Scorpionfish's hands now.

But then, Mercury shows up. He uses his Styling Power to destroy Scorpionfish and subdue the criminal. Lande makes it through stunned, but unscathed. He had only heard tales of this kind of power. He wanted it, but he also respected it.

Lande offers to follow Mercury to learn this power - Mercury refuses. In this world, there were those who controlled fate and those who were controlled by it. Mercury is the first, but Lande, even after running away from a nightmarish past, is in the second group.

Nonetheless, Lande embraces his new position. One day, he will have this power for his own. In the meantime, his new mission is to find and follow a young woman named Nikki (in disguise as Lady Anya) and keep her from leaving the auction.

Connections

-A lot of Mercury's designs and Reflections involve roses: this one, Forever Love, and Daybreak Overture, to name a few. Here, the bramble of roses represents a hard-to-know truth. In Forever Love, it symbolizes child Mercury choosing love and hope over power. And in Daybreak Overture, the rose garden was left in Mercury's care after the original lord of the house passed away.

-Loen had to save Scorpionfish during his mission in Flying Free. He doesn't like the criminal either.

-If you look at the Pieces section of the Index, the descriptions for the suit pieces tell the story of Reminiscence of Flower: he and his mother had to flee Pigeon and moved around Apple. She loved him for who he was, but she ended up drowning herself to keep him safe.

Fun Facts

-When Lande talks to Nikki, the picture shown is her in Lady Anya form, but when she has a surge of power and almost loses control during the auction.

-About half of all of Mercury's Reflections are narrated by someone other than himself. Usually, this happens when he prefers to remain mysterious and unknown.