#heliador

[stllinski]

[ smudge ] sender cleans lipstick off receiver's face // from malia <3

confusion knits the inners of his eyebrows together, almost instinctively recoiling at being touched before the rational part of his brain kicks in. she isn't a threat. she never has been. as her thumb swipes across his cheek, it brings with it a flush in his skin. as though suddenly they are standing facing one another, teenagers again. he doubts that feeling will ever go away, but it is not fundamentally a bad problem to have. to always have that spark. a remembrance that life is not always a cruel mistress, but can indeed spare moments of benevolence.

“ you don't have to leave your mark on me, you know. ” his voice teasing. utterly absurd to think there would be anyone other than her, it says. however, stiles still smiles, and as it always does with her, the light truly reaches his eyes.

[ragedagainst]

@heliador : ‘ah. the law. so inconvenient. so irrelevant.’

the empire writes and enforces the majority of the galaxy's laws –– so naturally, jyn isn't going to follow them. she can follow orders ( and she has in the past ) but when she doesn't agree with something, she isn't going to blindly and willingly abide by it. and by what she knows of qi'ra the other woman feels the same –– perhaps that's why they get along so well, a relationship forged on disobeying authority.

but jyn isn't the same person she was a decade ago. that woman –– that girl –– she'd been in the years after saw had dumped her, who'd flaunted around without a care for the consequences had died on scarif. the harsh realities of wobani had been a slap in the face, tempering her prior careless attitude.

but just because she's a bit more cautious now doesn't mean she's suddenly a good imperial citizen. at qi'ra's words, the corner of her mouth tugs up in an amused smile, her eyes sparkling. " if only we had another way to get weapons to the rebels, " she remarks in a similar tone. " it's simply too fucking bad the law says we can't ! "

[wtfispatience]

don't say i didn't warn you . / minnie for mj :p

“  oooooooooh.  ”    mj  mocked  minnie’s  seriousness  as  he  fixed  his  hair  in  the  old  stained  mirror  of  the  club  house    –    just  a  little  more…  there,  perfection.  as  the  so-called  skeptic  of  the  group,  mj  took  serious  his  job  of  always  laughing  in  the  face  of  the  non-existent  ghosts  everyone  else  and  their  moms  swore  were  real.  huh,  as  if.    “  minerva,  you  are  sounding  like  izzy,  and  that  worries  me…  this  joint  is  not  big  enough  to  hold  all  that  amount  of  crazy.  ”    he  proclaimed,  holding  her  by  the  shoulders  and  shaking.    “  you  guys  are  totally  buggin',  I’m  the  only  sane  one  left  here.  ”

[autymns]

𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄  ━━          in the ellipse of gold - plated pillars  ,    in the ecru glow of crystalline chandeliers  .    once upon a time  ,   in days salient with pennies to spare  ,    he would have stood aghast at the sight of flaunted luxury  .    it is those deterrents which leave imprints alike scars in the wake of torn skin  .    now  ,    in there  ,    lay the crux  :    tendrils of splintered youth stretch into adolescence     &.    pilfer its illimitable prospects  .    𝐜𝐡𝐮𝐮𝐲𝐚 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐡    ━━          to strip lungs of their breath  ,      to destroy pretty little things     &.     burn them to the ground  .   born human  ,    made to be a monster  .    and a waltz in tender synchronicity  ,    the tips of his fingers to the hollow of the lumbar curve  ?    it is a pretty little thing  .   

so when his gaze meets the depths of amethyst  ,     𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐫𝐞  ;    the idiom chosen is telling enough to convey its intendment  .    ❝    tch  !    i don't  .    ❞    digits work to smooth midnight fabrics  , .    proposes the empty palm of his hand , with no more reluctance as darkling daub upon ivory landscape  :    kouyou was very  .  .  .    intent on instilling  the courtesy of a gentle man  ,    at least  .    ❝    may i have this dance  ?    ❞

[  ☁  ]     a continuation , @heliador

[thegemcavern]

(short animatic with Carnalite and his team

[apeirture]

prompt.   @heliador.         “     come and help me.     ”

she drops the pen in her hand. fareeda's been writing again. usually that sentence wouldn't have mattered to her, since she's known for using her free time to write articles for everyone to read. this time, however, it is not the case. this time, she was dreaming again. she was overflowing with the intensity of the open wound in her head. “  my, my. where is all this demanding coming from?  ” her head tilts as she says this. fareeda stares at hana and she can feel her eyes still glowing [ not as intense, but the voice is still haunting every bit of her body ]. she can still feel her mind in the other realm as her eyes try to fight to come back to reality.

in the very moment, she wonders how it looks like for others: when there's another vision etched at the back of her throat and no one can hear the screeching that she somehow has to turn into words. “  go on, i can hear you. if you can hear yourself, of course.  ” her inauthentic sayings are the only way she can tell people she's fine. or, at least pretend to be. although she can barely keep her head straight to think of something better.

she doesn't speak for a second and then blinks. again and again and again. until all she can see is a blur and then a clear image of the hekau in front of her.

“  so?  ” there are no maps in hana's hand, no sacred objects that she holds. her clothes do not carry any weapons other than her usual whip. it's as if fareeda knows nothing and everything at once. a joy from the bottom of her heart. she's delighted after all, excited even. something different was happening here. and then she states the obvious, just to get a response out of her: “   where are aalia and seif? the three of you are usually together when it's related to the usual stuff.  ”

[apeirture]

BRBRBRBRBRBRRRRRR

[violenthunt]

it is rare that creatures within the quelled forest bond with outsiders; it demands faith. it demands patience. it demands to leap & expect that a landing is possible, one without broken bones. dhufeainnewedd is not part of those who befriend. she is a threat, a knife, something sharp & lethal that watches you, awaits for your mistake, and then implements your downfall with swift efficiency.

seeing xinyek befriend a boy had been strange, for the owl was wise. too wise to mingle with a stranger. finding herself to like the stranger had been even more bizarre. that was not in dhufeainnewedd's habit. but with time she had learned to tune out the warning signs-- one does not protect the quelled by allowing idiots to walk through its forest unaccompanied. so she would be there. she would stand and walk and find herself convinced the next time he would come, it would be with fire & death. she would still lead him to safety. she would still listen to his tales.

it is very strange, to find humanity in yourself. to find that, in some small way, you still care about making friends. yes. even after all this time.

"another story." her voice is calm, while a bit demanding. the tone of it, though, is terribly rough-- as if rarely spoken outloud. like an old instrument found in the back of the yard, a bit rusty… still making music, though sorrowful: no longer suitable for art, and yet proof that, once upon a time, it was promised to make chef-d'oeuvres. "a happy one." &. @heliador