anyway, official reminder that i will no longer be using this blog and will resume all further activities in my remake (same url). feel free to follow and unfollow this one, and if not it was a pleasure nevertheless ^^
Cosmic Funnies
styofa doing anything

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TVSTRANGERTHINGS

@theartofmadeline
One Nice Bug Per Day
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AnasAbdin
todays bird

Kiana Khansmith

if i look back, i am lost

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

tannertan36
occasionally subtle
Peter Solarz

Love Begins
Misplaced Lens Cap
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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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@asteritess
anyway, official reminder that i will no longer be using this blog and will resume all further activities in my remake (same url). feel free to follow and unfollow this one, and if not it was a pleasure nevertheless ^^
[ x - accepting / @asterites ] ❝ you’ve met with a terrible fate, haven’t you? ❞
“ A terrible - oh, yes! I have! “ Quick was the weapon to nod, doe-eyed agreement in voice alone. Swaying to and fro where skeletal toes hovered above the pavement, as if a child teetering in place - positively brimming with nervous exhilaration. “ Oh dear, Kaine must be a wreck with me gone. I can only imagine all the fights she’s started without me there to calm her down. Not that I, um, was good at that anyways… And Weiss is no better, always lecturing everyone on why he’s right… or egging Kaine on… Oh dear. “ Oh dear indeed. “ This wasn’t supposed to happen. I hope they’re doing alr - oh! “
Oh.
If only the stone visage he wore could shift from its petrified grin, could change from perpetual glee to the surprise a humans would now show. If only it could show the hesitation - the uncertain pause - that had the weapon stammering.
If only, if only.
“ You mean… “ My face? His body, skeletal and cold. Disconcerting, monstrous, terrifying. A scream-inducing spectacle to most whose eyes laid upon the smiling beast. ( But not her. ) She who did not flee - or worse yet, draw a weapon against one whose existence was one. A creature of destruction - of chaos… but one who would have fled instead, if it had come to it.
It had not occurred to him, at first. The obvious a forgotten thought when it came to what he, in truth, considered terrible. A truth she could not possibly know of, of course. Of course… How could she know that, how could the mean that, when a terrible sight was what stood before her instead. ( A sheep, wrapped in the guise of a wolf. Innocent, pure, but with bared fangs in a grinning snarl. )
Fretful were the fingers that came to rest upon tattered cloth, the bones that formed them joining with a soft click before his abdomen. Entwining together, rubbing at hands that no longer felt sensation, not really. Not fully. Yet the action was one of comfort all the same. A bygone of endless nights, of blinded eyes that would never gaze upon the world - could never, lest monotonous greys consume the color he’d oh so wished to see. A remnant of a worrisome heart; one still so, only now touched by courage as well. ( Courage that flickered like a wavering flame as the child’s wayward gaze found said hands. Hands stripped bare of flesh… Fingers stripped to the bone, of all that once was… )
A terrible fate, huh?
“ That’s one way to put it, heh… “ Insecurity ensnared itself deep within his bones, masked to perfection behind a still face… except for his hands. His tone, and the smile that was pushed into it. The friendliness, the concern, the hope that he was right and there was no fear to be found within this unexpected encounter. For onward, did he march. Onward, did he continue without missing a beat. “ It’s a… long story. I wouldn’t want to bother you with the details, but I’d do it all again, you know? It’s not all bad. This new body has let me save people. I’m proud, and I mean it, too! I just hope I didn’t startle you too much. I’m not as scary as I look, I promise! “
where art thou eyepatch :c
eyepatch : my fair lady, dost thou ignore mine presence ?
also the cryo’s archon real / old name : astaphe (feminine form of astaphaios ; fourth archon in gnosticism ) and is largely inspired by the phoenicians goddess astarte (goddess of love and war )
I start this with a simple confession: / I wanted to burn / this world down.
— Javon Johnson, from “UNTITLED, OR A FEAR OF GIVING THIS A NAME,” Ain’t Never Not Been Black (via lifeinpoetry)
me : tsaritsa changed because she realized that celestia was essentially the demiurge who is obsessed with maintaining control and order over their world and essentially the archons was to unknowingly help his will. tsaritsa needs the gnosis in order to gain enough control / knowledge in surpassing and rebelling against celestia in order to free them all from the selfish god’s whim and give the people the right to rule their world. (hence the whole : burn the old world for me ).
also me, plotting with a dear friend : tsaritsa had a family and celestia ruined her peace and now she wanna burn the world :)
[ x - accepting / @asterites ] ❝ i wonder, if you do the right thing, does it really make everyone happy? ❞ // pre-estrangement ?
Upon the sweetest of whispers did the wind pass through the leaves. The sun, it bathed the land in its warm embrace - glistening upon the snow strewn earth who reflected it in kind. The birds, they sang. Foxes chirped and yipped in symphony with the melodious breeze. T'was the image of perfect tranquility… yet even it could not withstand the weight of the question posed. The sheer gravity of such musings, a thought Barbatos knew to be no idle wonderance.
Strings strummed dolce came to a halt, nimble fingers poised above the windborne lyre as once closed lashes lifted to gaze upon the archon at his side. Regality in human form, a maiden of frost and love whose people she adored, and adored her in turn. Whose heart shown through with blinding sincerity, even beneath the pensive mask she wore. ( Dear sister of mine, where oh where is your head this fair eve? )
Swift, were reassurances to bound to the forefront of his consciousness. Inspiring platitudes and boundless support… that held only as much comfort as could be expected of a glass of water thrown against a raging wildfire ( the inferno of a troubled mind. ) The like of which could soothe the heart, yet was but a temporary salve for a weary soul.
Downcast eyes found the instrument betwixt idle hands, as one note was plucked, two. A mindless action, from he whose thoughts lay elsewhere. For the truth she sought existed in shades of gray, not black, not white. Not yes or no, however simple it would be to lie say as such. However easy.
" Once upon a time, I wondered the same… “ Slow, was the admittance. The lyre strummed, a wistful hum adrift alongside a soft exhale. ” I once looked at Mondstadt, and saw only a nation that deserved to be free. For the winds that shrouded them from the world to be redirected - to be blown open, and guide them towards a brighter tomorrow… But the future I saw, it was not a vision shared by everyone. “
Another note rose to join the somber tune. Beneath the poor facsimile of a smile, beneath eyes that saw not the strings but echoes of ages long since past - of decisions still questioned to this very day. ” There are those that, rather than freedom, see abandonment. A godless land; weak, disgraceful - to be pitied like an orphan begging for scraps. Those who’d rather the order of a god and the - “ tyranny it risked, but the bitter words did not make it past the tip of his tongue. “ The authority it would bring. Who seek the uniformity of the known, where life has clear sense and purpose, rather than the unknown - a future of their own making. “ His head, it shook. A sigh on the precipice of release, but one that had yet to break free. ” Even without me there, there are some like the church who have created testaments of my will, many of which have never came from my lips. Yet these false commandments bring them a sense of peace all the same. “ Facets that drew the god’s concern, for the shackles - the restrictions, the sorrow - such holy guidance tempted. No matter the happiness he saw on their faces, no matter the praise that bellied otherwise. Alas…
” Alas, where some cry displeasure, others respond in jovial cheer. Who, like me, believe the wind should not be a storm whisking one off their feet to a future of which they have no say in, but a gentle guide, an opportunity to be taken or left behind. “ For Mondstadt was free, and thus free to make their own choices, even those that he did not abide himself. ” Not everyone agrees with what I’ve done. Infact, the second I step outside of Mondstadt all I hear is criticism this, criticism that. But I like to think I’ve made more happy than I have not. And, really, what more could I ask for? “ A smile lifted one corner of his lips, a small little thing. ( Hopeful, even when the deed had long since been done. ) ” I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat… but I have learned that the world is not as black and white as it appears. You can’t please everyone… but in your heart, you will know what is right. “
With that said…
Der Himmel dispersed with the wind which had created it, anemo particles left to fly akin to dandelions seeds in the sky. All the while its performer rose from the stone that had been their seat. To turn and face his friend - nay, his sibling in all but blood. With a beaming visage; warm enough to melt even the coldest frost, yet gentle as the breeze. He laid a hand upon her shoulder, a minute gesture of comfort, but one all the same. ” My dear, I won’t claim to know why it is you ask, but I will say that wherever your decisions take you, I will be by your side, no matter the tempests you face - or would a blizzard be more fitting here? “ He winked. “ You could never displease your big brother, after all… “
A pause.
“ Well, “ oh, how the corners of his smile twitched. Where once was heartfelt sincerity, did the tell-tale glimmer of mischief now dwell. ” Except for that one time you froze my lyre. Oh, or when you totally ripped off my outfit. “ ( And had the audacity to make it better than his own. For shame. ) And yet. The sound of a giggle followed suit, though the gleam in his eyes did soften. ” But, I mean it. I’m here for you, if you need to talk. You need not but ask. “
steph said i cant promo her so, ima promo her. follow young master pigeonort. @apollynn
She was bound hand and foot and unable to move by the intensity of feelings which reduced her own body, her own life, and the lives of all the people in the world, for ever, to nothingness.
Virginia Woolf, from “To The Lighthouse,” originally publ. c. 1927 (via mournfulroses)
titanomachy aftermath // a second commission piece for @asterites featuring once again hecate and sirius, with liberties taken for this interpretation. hecate sided with the olympians against the titans, to whom her parents belonged ; and after the olympian’s triumph, followed by the imprisonment of her father perses, as well as the fall of her mother asteria, she has come to regret her decisions and mourns alongside the dog-star sirius, who comforts her. i had many emotions working on this, but at the same time i’m grateful to have been given this opportunity.
𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐒, there she stands : proudly, with the demeanor of regality, on the edge of the world. a soft nimble tune becomes her guide, faint like a gust of wind, it dances alongside its candor. swift and free, like a bird in the sky : soaring towards the heavens with no destination in sight. it is as whimsical as the sonnet played in the night, where it’s player hums alongside its faithful lyre. he plays and the bird listens. he sings and the wind gathers. the epitome of freedom, there is inspiration that aches alongside this mantle the musician shoulders. ❝ —— barbatos. ❞ the archon of love finds herself to the sigh of his finale, his own private concerto. ❝ there you are, i was looking for you. ❞ praise the wind that leads her to thee, ❝ you took my scepter and i want it back. i have the mind to freeze you for that you know. ❞ the maiden of frost pouts, expression faded as beautiful lips downpour softly towards her own complexion.
☆.*・。゚ @anemotos
hecate & sirius // commission work for @asterites ! thank you so much for your trust, my dear ! i adore these characters !
soarae:
@asterites | as discussed.
THE CROWN’S DRAGOON no more, Galahdian dame has set out on her own quest. One of goodwill && good favor, one of charity && one of a path set on by a good Samaritan no doubt. Her ties to the kingdom long since severed, she roams Eos in search of the dangers once kept at bay by the walls of Insomnia && the mystifying barrier therein. But its walls have crumbled, its barriers having failed. The once divine city had fallen at the feet of the Empire && on top of the backs of all who had built it—brick by boring brick. Each inclination of magistrate is but a flickering of light fracturing across the surface of a crystal since seized && stolen. Even as a defected glaive, she had infiltrated the walls of Insomnia if only to do her part. It was still as much her home as anyone else whose screams still echo through her bones from so fateful a calamity. But this is not Insomnia. This is not the city she had long ago vowed servitude of at the destruction of her home. She was so young.. But these thoughts are torn to naught in a matter of seconds. For a familiar lilac hue catches her from her smoldering upon seat of Bobber style motorcycle, acquired not long after her defection. A gaze like paradise, mingling blues && greens that dance so somber a dance, befall a familiar dragoon wandering askew from this settlement. Yet it is in that purple mentioned that she had not found Empire’s dragoon, but rather the royalty looking about in some wonder. Her lance peers over her shoulder proudly, darkened hues of Gae Bolg a looming entity in own right. Be it then that the melody of her voice gives way; soft yet firm, mature yet hopefully young. “You’re a long ways from home.”
𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃 ? they fall into their demise, with their wings cut short. their body flung away from this cathedral of iron built like a noose. the creature falls and paints the stain glass red with shattered bones and fading songs. they flutter for life, begging for mercy from their masters that turns a blind eye to their suffrage. yet worry not, for the cage bird has found freedom in their rotting corpse and therefore no longer sings in captivity. that is the freedom she feels in the wind. it touches her flesh and dances alongside her air. she inhales it and can taste the iron of blood that still lingers in decay. the cage bird is she, and she is dead in the eyes of the empire. a fallen princess that lays within the ashes, where she can no longer touch her wealth and her name nothing more than a word befitting slaughter. she wears adaption like a crown and shoulders kindness like a natural diplomat. in their eyes, she has earned a place in this settlement.
❝ —— oh, aren’t you ... ❞ star-maiden pauses in recognition. she recalls a memory not too long ago, but after all that has happened it has felt like another lifetime. she graces you nevertheless, and offers up a smile of sheer politeness. ❝ yes, well i suppose i can say the same thing about you too. we have both come a rather long well. ❞ stella finds herself indulging with a hint of irony dipped in her tongue, ❝ but i am glad to see a familiar face around here. how have you been holding up ? my sincerest condolences to you❞
the tsaritsa implied to be the former archon of love, and is now basically an archon without mercy is still pretty neat and edgy.
khvdzye:
@asterites.
though his head is unbowed, there still radiates a sense of respect from the young harbinger, a glint that seems even harsher with no light in his eyes. to gaze upon her is to gaze upon love, fulfilment, success ; and childe has never swayed from her path, despite the offers, the possibilities. though he occasionally dreams of his life outside of the fatui, he has sworn his loyalty to her, and she is surely aware of that.
“ you know, your majesty… you never quite told me why this whole arrangement with rex lapis had to be so secret, one even kept from me. ”
𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐄𝐙𝐇𝐍𝐀𝐘𝐀’𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐍𝐎 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐓𝐇. and she, her royal highness, sits at the throne of it all. a picturesque beauty, where glossy ambition shines on the reflection of amethyst and lavender. can you feel the cold that runs through the ichor of her veins ? her heart is of ice, sculpted to behold, yet a flame flickers in the form of ember. that is her passion, her enigma that inspires the land of brittle and frost. however, there are tears that still sheds in the form of snowfall and she mourns the tragedy of once upon a time. but never you mind the tales of history, for your tsaritsa shall someday stand before you as a champion of this rebellion. wait, keep waiting, hold on and believe. she needs your strength most of all, for beneath the exterior of ice and regality, was an archon who loved the world so much she burned, for the sake of tomorrow.
❝ i do hope you are not offended, tartaglia. ❞ noble words steam from the root of her sincerity, where archon star rises and descends from the throne. her mask, momentarily altered and shifted away from divine bravado, and what stands before you now : was a god who knew isolation more intimately than that of the sun. ❝ however, the extent of my contract with rex lapis required a ... certain type of discretion and execution. ❞ her confession is transparent and her words are genuinely clear. ❝ surely, you can understand why he would require such sworn secrecy given the controversy of this move. and of course, even i wouldn’t dare break a deal with the god of contracts you know. you’ll forgive me this time, won’t you ? ❞
I become calm and agreeable as madness and disgust rush through my blood— God smiles at me from behind His mask.
Anna Margolin (1887-1952), from “Sun” in “Drunk from the bitter truth: the poems of Anna Margolin”, translated from Yiddish by Shirley Kumove (via finita--la--commedia)
dawnstrap:
☆ – @asterites .
DAWN BECOMES DUSK that darkens his eyes, shying away from contact with the other – with anyone. keep it up, keep it up, the calm cool composure that veils every truth of struggle & the words he does not wish to think about ( betrayal , betrayal , betrayal ). silence eats the room & he’s consumed by it. an awkward smile that meets not with ocean’s blue. they sit in their usual spots & he sighs a light sigh ( heavy in his heart ). it brings him no relief. the darkness tied to his chest was never supposed to hurt like this.
❝ hey, uh . . . you up ?
– don’tcha start driftin’ off on me . ❞
the anxiety might eat him alive.
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐋 and knows everything. like lights that hang beneath the curtains of the night, they listen and learn every mumble and stutter spoken from broken motions held together by cheapen smiles and taut expression. emptiness becomes an effigy whispered in-between breathes, where deception slithers down one’s throat as you breathe miasma into your failing lungs. it burns, doesn’t it ? the blacken purge that exist within all of us. it pulses alongside every lies spilled as the sun blinds us further and further away from the truth. and she, herself, was no better. for the false light that exist within her, was slowly eating her away. she is collapsing as violently as the stars, burning away the ichor in her veins, until she is nothing but a hallow girl that exist solely for her savior-god. but ahh, she digress, let this be a tale for another day and unwind from that burden that has captured your face.
❝ —— well, you did take you’re time coming here. i almost fell asleep waiting. ❞ face lights up and she teases him softly. tricksters as conniving as a wolf in sheep’s clothing, they had become the very guises sworn to secrecy. ❝ but hey, what is on your mind ? i didn’t expect to hear from you so soon. is something bothering you ? ❞