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@daylighter-moved
hello everyone ♡ just a notice that i've moved blogs, it's been more than year since i've had this one and i thought a fresh start would be good for muse. plus ken's birthday month is here so he gets a new space, thanks for sticking with me so long!!
hello everyone ♡ just a notice that i've moved blogs, it's been more than year since i've had this one and i thought a fresh start would be good for muse. plus ken's birthday month is here so he gets a new space, thanks for sticking with me so long!!
hello everyone ♡ just a notice that i've moved blogs, it's been more than year since i've had this one and i thought a fresh start would be good for muse. plus ken's birthday month is here so he gets a new space, thanks for sticking with me so long!!
hello everyone ♡ just a notice that i've moved blogs, it's been more than year since i've had this one and i thought a fresh start would be good for muse. plus ken's birthday month is here so he gets a new space, thanks for sticking with me so long!!
sorry to say this but ken is ursula-coded.
HER WORN MUSCLES BEGIN TO SOOTHE HERE AS SHE COMES ALIVE WITH THE PROXIMITY. pale flame to his low simmer, he nudges it out of her with a deadly efficacy ( it could very well be fatal if trained it against her, it once was ) she feels something more than battered winged thing when held like this. it is a similar to the serenity of the mixture of ice and solitude. his voice to rival that of the scraping of skates across the freshly polished surface. yet where the rink is arctic comfort his is more perilous and uncertain. IT WON'T LAST; THEY BOTH KNOW IT. but they promise each other a shaky forever despite it.
❛ you're not terrible, or maybe you are, but it is in a way i understand. ❜ on the defensive so soon but this game is beyond winning. she cannot hold her ground when she has given it all up, pressed against him with no room left to take. ❛ but it doesn't matter... what use is hunger with nowhere to go? unless you're offering to take it all off ━ not that it isn't anything i haven't seen before. ❜ it is the tiger's grin that finds her there, an animal ruled by their cravings and she tugs at the hem of his shirt for good measure.
❛ i might have snuck a few peaks but you have probably noticed that already since you are so very astute. ❜ even following such a boast it is the striker her peels the jersey away from her skin. it is less so for show and more to keep numbers and colors barred from this passing refuge ( a team of two; that is what we said, that is what we risk ) she follows his descent back into the leather plush. a thumb soothing the hollow beneath his eyes and she thinks for a split second how sleep should be enough to carry them away from here. ❛ do you want to know what i see? or did my eyes give it all away already. ❜
in a way that she understood. blue-fire eyed as she was, it must have been true; why else hadn't she been turned away, nauseated by the inflection of his voice or charred by the brush of his fingertips? it must have been for the same reason he had not flinched from her reaching, or turned away his cheek from her kiss and temper. is this what happens when you put two awful things together? who better belonged with teeth than the eating machine? ❛ hunger without anywhere to go isn't hunger at all. ❜ he says it as fact; the word for that was an inward apocalypse. self destruction. ❛ so i think i understand you too. this doesn't have to be an offer, maybe i'm inviting you. ❜
he follows the track of her grin. it spanned her face like quicksand, enough that he pressed his thumb along the bottom end and clicked his tongue — it was apparent what he could want to do to that mouth. ❛ stealing more glances than you should, zoya? ❜ because forced proximity had eventually mellowed him too; there was enough bit of skin she had seen and vice versa until it hadn't fazed either of them. when the lick of desire had started was still a mystery.
❛ it's not fun if i guess and undress you on my own, ❜ he said this like gravel, and with his hands over her waist, watched her discard her shirt away. ❛ come here. ❜ throat thawing to warmth, his consideration of her was unhurried and matched her caresses over his face; he traced the curve of her throat and the exhausted sigh in her sternum all with an open palm, before his eyes flicked back to her mouth. pressed together into the leather, her black and unbound hair fell around him by the time he had clipped her in the briefest kiss, hands down her spine. ❛ tell me what you see. i'll know if you're lying. ❜
creating an entire arc from the perspective of three people who want kenneth dead as revenge and debating writing them as npcs …
convinced my instinctive antagonism with crows is inherited and generational. there's not a crow i've seen that hasn't hated my whistling and replied with stupid croaky unimpressive cawing and also i am surrounded by like three crow's nest. it's a siege
DISCONTENT SHE INVITES LIKE THE FONDNESS OF A MEMORY. it had been not too long ago when she resigned herself to sinking her nails into the sun. none of this partnership had been willing; it was trust that had been a choice ( we called it survival and maybe it was once but it has changed its shape since then ) they live under a microscope pressed behind the glass, frowning into flashbulbs, feigning smiles directly into the lens. here she does neither ━ she is the plucked rose, petals fallen but some spare bramble remains.
❛ you are stuck with me because you're hopeless at painting your nails without me. ❜ her unclenched hand falls over his knuckles and they stay there poised over her thigh until she entwines her fingers with his own. she can still make out the chipped edges of black polish that had been hastily removed before practice ( banquet nights were for rebellion but no matter how we adorn ourselves, we still belong to the conspiracy ) her breath becomes a faint exhale at the base of his throat then, a hint of a tease.
❛ hey, don't just change the subject like that and move on. ❜ adjusting herself she sits up slightly though her double's eyes are skyward and avoidant. this austere aloofness that drove her ferocity in the past. in the present, it is only haughty indignation and the pout of a flowered mouth. ❛ what do i say... what do you think i say? you have to at least let me confirm or deny. ❜ curiosity has her sweetening towards him as she nips at the side of his neck and soothes the coming tenderness with a kiss. they agreed to leave no marks, they agreed to keep this business, they agreed to never speak of it ━ but they speak of it now in this cage for two. ❛ or do you think you know me so well? ❜
❛ that's the only reason. ❜ her hand falls over his own where he taps a rhythm against her skin, sighing quietly when her mouth had pulled back from his neck. he was breathing again so suddenly, a poorly lit room around them and his hand falling form her cheek to her throat. ❛ my bad. we're rewinding to … ❜ there again. she shifts over him and he doesn't look, the warm press of her mouth and scrap of teeth returned. they would not allow themselves to bruise for one another in evermore, but much like her there was a penchant here to pretend.
❛ oh, that. ❜ finally he lets himself look at her, eyes fluttering awake. every touch was smooth, from the fingers tracing her knee to the palm warming her collar. ❛ i do think i know you. ❜ he doesn't look away, doesn't blink, as if the only surety from now to victory day was knowing her. ❛ i think i know you very well, actually. ❜ frigid girl, all teeth bared; he knows what it means when she looks at him. he's lived with the weight of her eyes on his back, felt the grip of her knuckles where they clutched the racquet.
❛ it's that you're hungry. ❜ she has hated him, distrusted his cold impossibility. she's watched him, watched him so much he stops watching himself, and holds the weight of her many eyes with him when he steps off court. did a love without a bite satisfy either of them? he takes her chin and tips it higher, no way of leaving. ❛ and you're reminded you are when you look at me. i think you say even more when you're not. like you're forcing yourself to look at something less terrible … you want to undress me and it kills you. ❜ he considered this thoughtfully, then let go of her chin. that's the most he's ever talked. reclining back with a soft thump, he brushed her hair back. ❛ i know what i'm saying is true because it looks good on you. you're stuck with me too. ❜
kenneth effectively covering both pole ends of the brown eyes are beautiful spectrum ♡
the free-flowing ember crackling through the dark, the lightroot remained somewhat present even when the threats of the gloom hands has disappeared. the plant was by far not as large or vastly sprawling as the other ones growing beneath the earth, but the depths have been infected by demise's wake so harrowing that any surviving ecosystem, no matter how small, had to be cherished. back in times long gone the depths were used for mining purposes, as well as for the spirits of the wild to foster themselves into the shape they are now - the depths used to be its very own home, its very own land beneath hyrule, and with the passage of aeons it has become a quiet respite. until the dark of a different kind descended and ransacked any inch of peace, leaving it to the people on the surface to find out what has transpired in the screaming silence.
it is a challenge they do not even try to impose on not to see the direct parallel between the fate of the depths and the return of the wayward prince. even if no one would understand the connection, the scholastic archiver of hyrule's story has seen his face long ago in a haze of an old kingdom and would know him by the essence of this very haze as if it has been a sharpened vision from the beginning. the world broke open and the past had to be amended, the land tore apart by demise's return and the golden light had to return as well - a circle made complete just how the hero and the princess have made their own journeys to the past, connecting with the very essence of the land becoming what it is now. hylia has a watchful eye, but no one is more prone to keep a steady gaze than the silent shadow. they could not turn for the truth for it would follow them in dreams, it would merge into several fractures of reality before becoming a fact at one point anyway.
as if the abyss begged for him, as if the powers compelled by the endless fight against the returning horrors had found one key to one of its numerous locks. where once there was an empty drop made real by the chasm's, there is now a place of possibility. even if the gloom has yet to be gone ( it would take more than just their work, it would take the hero to cure what they could not simply cure as it wasn't their place ) there is a chance to rid the depths of some of the sickness. they can feel it inside of them, a clear view pressing against their eyes, and know he can feel it too - if there is agony pulsing through them, it is mirrored in him, like the other half of a painful pact made the moment they met again. " i don't think you are only imagining things . i think what you are seeing, what you are feeling, is as real as anything else that happened since the upheaval, " they tell him in the dark, turning their head to look at him where he has begun to hold onto them, navigating easily out of the dim light of the bigger lightroot into the expanse of underground.
many of the lighroots seemed to function in similar manner as the sky towers the sheikah built, wayward points for orientation anyone needed in the depths. back when they were frequently visited, they must have been markers for travellers or spaces of rest for miners and others beneath the surface. now they see one torn asunder, infected and broken apart just like they have learnt the deku tree to be - it seems the gloom festers strongest in hyrule's most natural inhabitants, eating away at its oldest and most loyal beings. " i heard of something like this happening to the deku tree. you can't even travel the forest on the surface - now this. " the dim shine of the infected lightroot was more red than gleaming teal, a clear sign of its pain. sheik lowered onto their knees, taking kenneth with them, and touching their palm over his before putting both onto the ground. " it is weak, but it hasn't died yet. we have to free it off the gloom. the light inside of you is like a lightroot, only stronger. we need that light. "
it was a catastrophe in the waking. belatedly he wondered if the simple fact of light existing where it had slept for so long would only attract nightmares. the products of demise he had seen first-hand were parasites, leeching every bit of the land that was good and bright under its fangs; and, seeing the state of the fractured light-root he knew, it would not stop at the funeral of a mysterious tree. flashes, quick and miserable: the whole world waited on a hero, but as he looked to the shadow beside himself, it was certain what hyrule could desire from them — to lessen that burden, and heal what they could. ❛ i've seen this in dreams before. but they were stones instead, as if they had died long ago. they must have been happy once. ❜
this reverberates between them, and for the first time he sees them beyond what that infected hatred had made him see: not an enemy but a conduit of the soul, where his pain was reflected and agony joined in their bright eyes. they saw his sorrow, as if the sight itself wounded him as grievously as the gloom had slashed the roots; and he sees their fixation, a thousand years in a single iris. ❛ if the deku tree's cut off, it'll get worse down here quickly. the chasm, it's too silent. like they're fighting to stay awake. ❜ grounded, he begins to shake loose from the mindless bitterness, a change evidenced in the light-roots: it had ceased its muted cries and waited patiently.
then he is pulled to his knees with them, huddled as if they might have been in prayer together. ❛ it won't die. we can't let it. ❜ the botched tree cast them in colours of dark and venomous red, the only illumination in the pit-less dark that was to be countered by a light that scarcely obeyed him. ❛ i'll try again. just … say something. something ridiculous that you would. infuriate me. ❜ hands joined, he felt the pulse of their nearness beside him, a strangeness at all to think that they might need warmth the way living things did. ( what do you do when you come from different worlds? )
he tilted closer until their paired sets of hands were digging into the ground, dirt and dust under their fingernails. ❛ i just need your voice, you fool. ❜ at last no bite to his words, their sigh rings true; he commands the light and it responds to his worry, his grief, for when he looks at them it was the reflection of such devastation they saw in his eyes. the words on his tongue were unknown to him yet sunlight sparked from his hands over theirs. not carried by the light-root it was a creature of its own, tendrils out of his back, tracks of liquid gold that seeped out and solidified. they were shards, ragged and strong — it was hardly perfect, yet the first reliable evidence of his capability. stunned to a quiet, he picked the needle out of the ground, solid in his hands before it was offered to them. ❛ this is what you wanted? ❜ the question floated, his limbs growing quickly fatigued. ❛ a needle. a knife. for the wounds, that tree needs new skin. ❜
THERE WAS TIME THE FORTRESS NEVER FELL; SHE KEPT HER GUARD AROUND HER LIKE STACKED HIGH STONE. there is a place for her to crumble here ━ not entirely but just enough to see the first fissures in that arrogant edifice. for the dealer it is a less noticeable shift, his recline alone communicates a certain openness. a limbo between wakefulness and sleep, she is far closer to the brink than he. the ache of her muscles sinks into her bones and that is what she is. weary down to the marrow but she can finally put it down. his sprawl is an open invitation, a beckoning without a directive gesture; she doesn't require any of that formality from him. THIS IS STILL A NOVELTY, ISN'T IT? to have an ounce of respite in this castle of talons and feathers.
more a thing with claws than wings but she keeps those sunken into her palms, when she comes to him now it is with palms opened. finger splayed across his chest, the indulgent warmth of a body as bruised as her own. she can't help it, she has to defy him still even though the fatigue had its teeth in her already. ❛ not yet… ❜ a balled fist gripping at his shirt clinging onto consciousness and something else. breathing in is all soap and sun and that faintness sweetness he carried with him everywhere ( a contradiction she could never quite trace the origins of )
❛ we didn't get to talk much today. watching you isn't the same. ❜ the admittance comes easy here yet it was no secret that her glances held a certain prick to them. IT'S PART OF THE JOB. KEEPING AN EYE ON YOUR SIX. yet even when she was off the court for a game she kept him dutifully in her sights ( as we promised right? ) her mouth manages to want while her body is half-paralyzed. lips drag along his collar bone, that thin line of skin exposed and still dampened from the shower. ❛ although, i wouldn't say it is bad either ━ ❜
the mettle of her nails sinking into his shirt reflect every bit of the frustration he had seen on court today. outwardly she shows them her teeth, one attempt that became twenty until she had met her imagined mark and pummelled it to the ground with perfection; inwardly she crumbles and clings to those wakeful pieces, not entirely but just enough for it to matter. her defiance is met with an unamused turn of his mouth, a frown that said he had anticipated it — a year above her yet it had never introduced them to formality.
❛ i don't know why i bother with you. ❜ an empty scolding, it might have put her to sleep yet her breathing betrays her, that steady thrum punctuated by her softer inhales. she complains, he listens, a thoughtful sweep of his thumb across her cheek ( and her palm at his chest, splayed open and reckless; he doesn't flinch anymore. the dark of their room makes certain of this peace he can't trace the origins to. he diagnosis it simply as this: zoya. )
when her mouth catches at his skin, that peace shudders with something else, something savage. ❛ i'm not sure we didn't, ❜ he said, and reclined further into the leather. ❛ you say a lot when you're staring, but you're not ready for that conversation. ❜ with a hand at her thigh he tipped his head back to the ceiling, though with little interest in the furnishing and more in the warmth of her mouth reaching the crook of his neck. she keeps his eyes on him, he flutters his own shut and keeps his hands on her instead, mindless patterns over her jaw. ❛ do you want to talk about it? ❜
me: gonna pause on asks and give everyone a break ( literally keeps writing asks, not giving anyone a break )
* recline: sender joins receiver on their chair and snuggles them comfortable intimacy. currently accepting. zoya nazyalenskaya,
evermore falls to a hush in the late hours of the day. since the era of a new and grim tutelage, the ravens infrequently left the court for their quarters even at the strike of midnight. it did not escape his better sense that these were conditions that were misguided, ruthless, and inevitably a temptation for failure. her proud form was now a meagre silhouette at the door and it was evidence enough of this; he watched a girl lug herself into the room they shared, now reduced to her tired form after hours under the temper-mental feedback of an old man. he had come in first, the towel from a quick shower discarded over the bed before he'd slid wordlessly into the leather bean bag.
no sooner had he settled himself ( to breathe without the constrictive air of the court … a suffocating rehearsal ) that @zmeydeva had abandoned her sports duffel by the desk and fallen over him like a shadow. the minute surprise that flashed across his face was gone in an instant. he kept it like a calling card and tucked it away for later review. the dealer's hands reacted first, winding around her waist and pulling her over his thigh, until her cheek had better settled against his shoulder.
wordlessly, he considered what to do. how do we comfort? isn't a bark also a measure of protection? after an uncertain pause, before her mind could be swept away into embarrassed distaste, he pressed his palm over her cheek. ❛ sleep. ❜ a single word yet it was not without a strange inflection, something that resembled fatigue shaded by a quiet sadness. chin above her head, he thought of her in skates, more herself on ice than plexiglass. ❛ don't fight me today. ❜
effortless gothic androgyny in the grocery store
done most of my asks! and drafts so i may focus on verses instead for a beat. trying to be normal and not answer everything 🏃
＊ 𝑲𝑬𝑵𝑵𝑬𝑻𝑯 , [ BEND ] for the shorter muse to tug the taller muse down so they can kiss their cheek.
@daylighter's fingers bunch in the worn, soft fabric of his hoodie's collar and suddenly lips press against jason's cheek. the motion catches him by surprise, shock the first emotion he feels; so unused to being completely caught off guard. it's shown in the way bright eyes widen and lips part slightly. the second emotion he feels manifests in the faint tinge of pink his cheeks turn as they warm. affection ? attraction ? he's not quite sure how to label it. he enjoyed the silly little rivalry they had between them. enjoyed the banter and intense conversations over literature even if most of the time kenneth was wrong. although, jason was willing to privately admit the other was easy on the eyes. whatever the feeling was . . it was enough for a peck on the cheek to leave him blushing faintly; as embarrassing as that is.
the moment is over just as fast as it happens and jason is quick to distract by handing the other his order. albeit shoving it into his hands probably more roughly than needed or intended. ❝ don't think i'm payin' for your coffee next time too, ❞ the vigilante clears his throat before bringing his own drink to his lips and taking a sip, ❝ because you're buyin' next. ❞
kenneth wasn't wrong about books. the times that he was, it was an orchestrated attempt to see jason turn to intellectual steam. he might have admitted to this if he hadn't found it entertaining for the bursts that it would last: between furiously sipped coffee or by the unacceptable noise of their debates, hushed down by disgruntled librarians. today they'd gotten into it early; what was once solo endeavours now turned into joint orders over a single receipt. small changes, large effects. in the throes of yet another argument he'd gone for a different tactic to stumble jason only to see it work wonders.
( what had he said at all that had compelled him to such a thing? ) he couldn't remember, stuck on something as unexpected as jason buying his coffee for him. it was much simpler to catch his shirt front and pull him down for a kiss over the cheek, and find disappointment when it was over as quick as that. kenneth was gifted with his cup and jason's face red as christmas, at which point he felt his mouth twitch, a thing he bit down to prevent.
‘‘ uh huh, wouldn't dream of it. ’’ they looked away, kenneth's fingers drumming along the standing table, books forgotten. when he looked back first, his eyes snagged at the bit of blush. ‘‘ and i was saying thanks. or are you too proud for that? ’’ a long pause, before he dares further. ‘‘ i'm not buying you stupid coffee. come over and i'll make the decent sort. ’’
