#event one

[clematised]

SHE DOESN'T WANT TO SEE. the fact that they're not in anakt garden anymore 一 the fact that sua isn't here, too. no, she doesn't wish to see it at all. so perhaps that was why she was leaning against ivan so carefree, the smile on her face unhindered by their current situation as she makes herself comfortable like always. without sua here, at least, she wouldn't have to worry about her very comfy body pillow getting repercussions for whatever reason. ❝ I don't get what you mean, Ivan... ❞ she does, to some degree, but she wouldn't show it.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀not to him, not to anyone else.

❝ What's there to worry about? Isn't this just another part of Anakt we haven't seen? ❞ maybe she was seeing it too lightly. ❝ Till and I... we snuck around before into a new place we weren't allowed to go. So this is probably the same! ❞

@foreverembrace

[spinthebarrel]

current day || ketterdam streets || @deadhelvar​

the streets are grey and the clouds are cloudy, but even that can’t stop the thrum of energy thats slowly being scented on the streets, residents subconsciously aware of the moods of their city. sure, it had risen and fallen in the past seven years, settling after the plague scare, pulled along through international warfare, but it was the kind of air that was leading to riskier gambles and hands closer to weapons.

so his fingers are tapping against the curve of his pistols and there’s a little tune humming under his breath as he turns towards home, before he stills. freezes. body locked into a thousand different directions, before turning to the most comfortable one.

the gun is in his hand and pointed towards the imposter before either are aware, and the street around them empties further than the ‘empty’ it had been, people turning towards their windows and away from sight.

the problem - they can’t quite bring themselves to shoot. barrel aimed where they’d last seen the crimson spread across his chest, aimed where the red petals had lay. grief was a thing they thought they’d forgotten, but here, it slam back in, closes their throat tight to the questions that want to come spilling out.

[khaenriahn]

          SUNLIGHT BEAMS THROUGH THE SNOW, yet not in a way which it normally might. even with one eye covered can he tell the distinct difference, how the rays refract so pristine, like peering through a perfectly cut diamond. perhaps, in the end, he isn’t entirely wrong given the situation, fingers gripped around a wooden sword in a crystalline encasing. not to mention the rather large creature — ah, is that even what it is, given the situation? — towering before him.

          ❝ Not running? Haha, I don’t suppose you would. Even when you saw all your brethren shattered like that before your eyes... ❞ he shoots back, noting the smaller pieces of diamond scattered about in their final resting places. though they were smaller creatures, anything with a remote sense of comradery might sense a feeling of loss, thrown into a horrendous whirlwind of anger at it all, and yet this thing... ❝ Well, if that’s the case... don’t disappoint me. ❞ there’s a challenge to his voice, one that accentuates his next movements flawlessly.

          a foot pushes off swiftly, noting the way the creature lifts its bulky arm upon his approach. easy enough, ducking downward and feeling a woosh atop his head, all before jutting his diamondized weapon forth with a jut of frost. the tip slams into its knee, sending a crack to spiral upward, though not shattering it as he had expects to hinder it.

          one click of his tongue resounds, icy gaze turning swiftly to note another swing of its arm aimed directly at him this time—

                                            「  @doublemasked 」

[femmedeitiesnet]

After quite a wait, Femme Fatale Net has rebooted and is now Femme Deities Net! As part of our reboot, we’re starting with all new events!

Our first event focuses on myths, legends, and folklore of the African diaspora in honor of Black History Month. This includes female figures from Afro-Latinx, Caribbean, African American, and Afro-Canadian cultures. Thank you @girlinthecosmos for the suggestion!

This event is open to anyone, member or not, so feel free to create something and be sure to tag #femmedeitiesnet within the first five tags so we can reblog your work!

Event Info Begins: February 12 Ends: March 03 (extra days because it took so long for me to post this up)

Please caption your creations:

@femmedeitiesnet | event one | african diaspora ↳ [creation name]

And thank you to all our members for being onboard with the reboot!

[devespertilio]

-- @kryptonizes​

The booming voice was unfamiliar to Bruce but it seemed to belong to someone the city knew. K'horii. Also unfamiliar but he's making a mental note to research the name and the previously mentioned occurrence at a later time. At the present, there was a more concerning matter to address.

"I don't find this game amusing." He grumbles in a voice unlike his own as he pushes a pair of glasses up the bridge of his nose. The lenses weren’t prescription, they didn’t need to be and he didn’t need to wear them. However they were part of the disguise, and Bruce was all about keeping identities secret. Especially the one of his best closest friend.

[hocotate-freight-company]

((I made a shitty thing

[mitch-nom-blog]

The Lobby | April 30th late at night | @theninthcard

He’d managed to linger for the rest of the day, flitting restlessly between different rooms but always dissapearing from them if anyone else came near, uncertain of how to act. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t sleep here. The bag was too present, hidden under the bed, the bed too soft, his thoughts too loud. He would have gone to Jude but knew that the other wouldn’t understand his need to just get pinned down and out of his head for a while, and Mitch knew that he wouldn’t be able to bring Jude with him to a point of desperation.

No, he needed to get out, so he slipped out from the covers between 1 or 2am, and walked down to the lobby. He didn’t feel like blacking out right now, didn’t trust that he wouldn’t end up somewhere completely different. He pushed open the doors and went to step out when the slightest footfall behind him caused him to stop and turn.

“Are you going to try and stop me leaving as well?” He blurted the words out before biting down on his tongue, the taste of copper filling his mouth instead. Why would anyone try to stop him? And it wasn’t as though he was leaving, not permanently, not yet. Just to get the energy out from his nervous hands, replace the ache on his shoulders. Just, just for a bit.