Music Monday, WIP Wednesday & OC Meme Template
Tagged by @imogenkol
Tagging @inafieldofdaisies @strafethesesinners @josephseedismyfather @fallsendings @minilev @aceghosts @raresvtm @carlosoliveiraa @noodlecupcakes @cassiemuldon @voidika @direwombat @shallow-gravy @socially-awkward-skeleton @jaeheydaris @josephslittledeputy @g0dspeeed @derelictheretic @strangefable @statichvm @wrathfulrook @la-grosse-patate @thewanderer-000 @shellibisshe @afarcryfrommymain @turbo-virgins @galfrey @yokobai @sledge-in-space and @trench-rot + anyone who wants to join.
Music Monday for The Silver Chronicles, Life, Despair & Monsters and An Old Ballad of Chance and Ember Hearts Trilogy, WIP Wednesday for the new Yharnam Hunters AU and an updated snippet on my Silva's Hope WIP in The Silver Chronicles and The UnTitledverse OCs for an OC Meme Template. Listen and read below the cut:
This song goes out to "The Paradoxical Nature of Tumult" OTP, aka my Azriel Omar x Schrödinger ship in my FCND WIP, Old Dusk. Azriel is the adopted daughter of Silva (taken in by the former deputy during the Reaping), and the older sister of Mercy, while Schrödinger is the adopted nibling of Gavin Turquoise (taken in by the end of his WIP, No Home For One). Whereas Azriel is all high energy, loud and chaotic, Schrödinger is low energy, quiet and mellow. Schrödinger essentially grounds Azriel to the current events, and not just the fast-paced thoughts and calculations of engineering going through her head, while Azriel helps Schrödinger out of their shell, being the chaotic fun in a rather controlled and monotonous life. Childhood best friends to lovers (like mother, like daughter for Azriel since that was Silva's situation with her first love, Irene Neon), a relationship that encourages rebellion against the authorities in their lives (both in the form of their parents, and the looming presence of the Highwaymen). In Old Dusk, Azriel & Schrödinger have a romantic scene together where they've led a patrol of Highwaymen into the dense forests for an ambush full of explosive inventions, featuring bayonets, and absolutely decimate the Highwaymen there, and if there's a song perfect for that scene, it would be "5 Years Time".
"Oh, well, in five years time we could be walking 'round a zoo With the sun shining down over me and you And there'll be love in the bodies of the elephants too And I'll put my hands over your eyes, but you'll peek through!"
"And there'll be sun, sun, sun all over our bodies And sun, sun, sun all down our necks And there'll be sun, sun, sun all over our faces!" And sun, sun, sun, so what the heck?"
"'Cause I'll be laughing at all your silly little jokes And we'll be laughing about how we used to smoke!" "All those stupid little cigarettes and drink stupid wine!" "'Cause it's what we needed to have a good time!"
"But it was fun, fun, fun when we were drinking It was fun, fun, fun when we were drunk And it was fun, fun, fun when we were laughing It was fun, fun, fun, oh, it was fun!"
"Oh, well, I'll look at you and say, "It's the happiest that I've ever been" And I'll say, "I no longer feel I have to be James Dean"!" "And she'll say, "Yeah, well, I feel, oh, pretty happy too"!" "And I'm always pretty happy when I'm just kicking back with you!"
"And it'll be love, love, love all through our bodies And love, love, love, all through our minds And it'll be love, love, love all over her face And love, love, love all over mine!"
"And though if merely all these moments are just in my head I'll be thinking 'bout them as I'm lying in bed And I know that if merely they might not even come true But in my mind, I'm having a pretty good time with you!"
"Oh, in five years time, I might not know you In five years time, we might not speak Oh, in five years time, we might not get along In five years time, you might just prove me wrong!"
"Oh, there'll be love, love, love wherever you go There'll be love, love, love wherever you go There'll be love, love, love wherever you go There'll be love, love, love wherever you go!"
Next song is for my House of the Dragon WIP duology, The Thorned Crown of Iron Thrones (which take place during the first season) and Of Blazing Conquests And Dancing Dragonmounts (which follows into a kind of canon divergence/combination of seasons 2 & 3, with some Fire & Blood aspects sprinkled in), specifically focusing on two characters of mine: Corvus Targaryen and Cecil Royce. These two are two sides of the same coin; Corvus is (on paper and in public) the adopted son of King Viserys I and Queen Aemma Targaryen, and the older adoptive brother of Rhaenyra (and later, the children of Viserys & Alicent), although without any claim to an inheritance of any kind, while Caecilia, or rather Cecil, is the born daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, and the rightful heir to Runestone. The thing is, Corvus desperately desires to be recognized as much of a Targaryen as the rest of his adoptive family (especially Viserys) even going as far to try and imitate some of their mannerisms, while Cecil is disdainful towards that part of her heritage, she despises the fact she is her father's daughter and is desperate to be a Royce much like her mother. Throughout the events of The Thorned Crown of Iron Thrones, Corvus is sidelined (much like his step siblings) by Viserys in favor of Rhaenyra, whatever prior father-son relationship they had now growing distant as the years go by, and in the meantime, Cecil grows closer with her father Daemon (in the most platonic, familial sense) the more time she spends with him in those years (until he ruins it, but that's for later). These two are bound by their obligations to this family but strive for different outcomes, even as it tears them and their family apart, leading to weakness and exploitation by others. It isn't until the Harrenhal arc in Of Blazing Conquests And Dancing Dragonmounts that the two really confront their inner turmoils, and become a sort of "king" over themselves, becoming whole after putting their faults to bed and making peace with their flaws:
"You're alone, you're on your own, so what? Have you gone blind? Have you forgotten what you have and what is yours? Glass half empty, glass half full Well, either way, you won't be going thirsty Count your blessings, not your faults
You've got it all You lost your mind in the sound There's so much more You can reclaim your crown You're in control Rid of the monsters inside your head Put all your faults to bed You can be king again
You don't get what all this is about You're too wrapped up in your self-doubt You've got that young blood, set it free
You've got it all You lost your mind in the sound There's so much more You can reclaim your crown You're in control Rid of the monsters inside your head Put all your faults to bed You can be king
There's method in my madness There's no logic in your sadness You don't gain a single thing from misery Take it from me
You've got it all You lost your mind in the sound There's so much more You can reclaim your crown You're in control Rid of the monsters inside your head Put all your faults to bed You can be king You've got it all You lost your mind in the sound There's so much more You can reclaim your crown You're in control Rid of the monsters inside your head Put all your faults to bed You can be king again!"
And last song is for my An Old Ballad of Chance and Ember Hearts Trilogy, and kind of the existential themes it has. Jade Smith and Jasmine Rafiq are the first human travelers of the Multiverse, and they reside in this kind of limbo combination of coming across vibrant nature, unique cultures and the ruins of past societies of each distant world. The couple themselves are also fulfilling a sort of self-fulfilling prophecy as well; despite being the first humans to travel the Multiverse, they are long past a distant memory, whatever imprints they left behind faded yet lingering in the present but without the context nor explanation of what such a presence could mean to anyone else. And that's kind of the nature of a multiverse isn't it? Whatever could happen, has happened, will happen, and is just buried amongst all the other divergences of a reality's time, space and place that repeats and rhymes again, only with slight alterations. While Jade and Jasmine themselves aren't remembered by the present day populace, the impact they left, the decisions they made, still persists, even if it feels like nothing's different:
"But if you close your eyes Does it almost feel like nothing changed at all? And if you close your eyes Does it almost feel like you've been here before? How am I gonna be an optimist about this? How am I gonna be an optimist about this? If you close your eyes Does it almost feel like nothing changed at all?"
Here's my WIP snippet for another Far Cry 5/Bloodborne crossover AU, except the Seeds are being taken to Yharnam, which should be a fun time. Anyway, have a short snippet of Micolash being Micolash and the Seeds having to endure him:
Faith could feel how clammy her hands were becoming, the compacted heat inside the bunker getting to her head. There was also the discomfort of her bare knees against the hard bunker floor, aches and sores from the bolted chains anchoring both her brothers and herself into a kneeling position, with little room to maneuver. She could hear John tugging against his constraints at the far end of their linked chains.
The man before them ceased his pacing, stood still under the bunker's light for a moment, his back to the bound family.
"No one can catch me," he spoke again, softly at first, and then, like he'd been struck with a realization, he looked back to them with a giddy glint, tufts of wavy black hair slick with sweat sticking to his forehead, "No one can stop me."
He turned his body with a lazy spin, untied laces of his fine yet worn shoes dragging along in the motion, a manic grin growing across his lips as his dark brown eyes bore down on her. Those eyes... always finding their way back on to her.
"No one can save you now!" Micolash outstretched his hands out as he gestured to the family, then lifted them up as his eyes returned to the ceiling, the delight in his cackling laughter echoing through the bunker.
What was he imagining, Faith wondered, whenever he cast his eyes upwards? Certainly not God, he had made that clear enough.
And here's an updated snippet for a scene from my Silva's Hope WIP. I found there was a bit of confusion on the identification of Zhan Tiri and Faith, which was probably because I used "herald" for both of them in the original version of the snippet, but I've fixed it up as well as made improvements so the snippet is more in line with the current version of the WIP too. Enjoy Silva fighting ghosts:
[TW/CW: Inhalation of hallucinogenic drugs, mentions of chemical warfare and other related crimes]
With slow breaths, Silva stubbornly rolled around to face the destruction she caused, in defiance of her exhaustion.
Holding herself upright by anchoring her arms around her knees, she watched with dull grey eyes as fire vacuumed the green mist, consuming it like an endless fuel, specks of dazzling sparkles glittering across her vision. It was a mesmerizing sight, one that she knew she should keep her distance from, but she couldn't find the energy to do so.
There were still more people in the Henbane that needed her help, yet here she was, watching a florist's conservatory crumble under the weight of itself to further satisfy the flames consumption.
She's sure the Cougars would be wanting a report on the origin of the explosion. Lindsey and Whitehorse would probably be pissed at her for taking on the cult's conservatory all by herself considering she's supposed to be "taking it easy", but Virgil had personally requested her to bring down the Bliss operations and the leading chemist with it.
She was not one to deny a childless parent retribution.
She's sure this will earn her a pleased laugh from Lader once the news reaches the woman.
The site, though beautiful in its own chaotic way, lacked... a lot of the catharsis she thought she'd feel from committing the deed. Maybe she was just tired, but she felt... emptier. And a perhaps a little bit guilty, too.
She'd been relentless in her attacks on Faith's operations ever since she blindsided the herald and took Marshal Burke out of her grasp, and yet she still hadn't encountered the other woman since. The lack of retaliation was bothering the deputy, though whether it was because of worry for the Seed sister or fear of what she was possibly planning, she refused to admit which one was truer.
A truth she could admit though, was that destroying the Jessop Conservatory wasn't nearly as satisfying as crumbling the Zhan's monastery had been, all those years ago.
She heard the soft crunch of grass from behind her, a mimicry of the real thing she could guess, and with a familiar presence weighing against her mind, she took a guess on who it was.
I suppose we're doing this now.
"I'm not apologizing Faith," Silva said aloud, allowing her bluntness to carry clearly across, "You and I both knew this was an inevitability. So whatever spiel of this drug being a "salvation" or whatever other lies you tell yourself you have prepared, it will only fall on deaf ears, and I'm in no mood for it."
No verbal response came, only the silent treatment that Faith liked to frequently use whenever something displeased her.
Let's just get this over with.
Silva opened her mouth to speak again to Faith... but her words were lost as soon as she heard that familiar chuckle from behind her.
A chuckle. Not a giggle, the childish, playful, frustratingly melodic giggle Faith let slip whenever she tried to bring down her guard, whenever she tried to get the deputy to open up, whenever Silva told a joke when she felt comfortable to do so. This wasn't the herald's giggle she's grown accustomed to, that she hated herself for finding pleasant and safety in.
This was the haunting, cackling chuckle of the vile demon who delighted in mocking Silva in her nightmares, a sinister precession before the maniacal laughter that resounded throughout the bursting poison of the monastery, entrapped in a fuming fog within one of many night terrors.
A chuckle, as ostentatiously sophisticated and condescending as she remembered it being, belonging to a young woman of high-class, shameless in her heinous crimes, a warmongering arms dealer who specialized in chemical warfare, producing horrifying toxic concoctions that resulted in the slow deaths of innocents around the world, even horrifying the likes of Kamski to the point the older man couldn't bare the idea of facing her before Silva arrived to that dreadful island.
A chuckle that shouldn't be capable of uttering sound again, not amongst the living. A chuckle that belonged to the Apostle of Death; Zhan Tiri, a bastard woman with so much blood staining those hands hiding underneath her dark gloves.
"Such foul words, Sylvester. And here I thought you appreciated my honesty," the wicked viper chastised from behind, giving a demeaning tsk, "You should wash out the filth in that mouth of yours... my toxins would certainly do you a favor."
Exhaustion forgotten, nausea disregarded, and bruises ignored as coherent thought froze and her body took action instead. Grabbing the pistol from her holster, Silva did not care how many bullets were in the chamber, for any number above zero would be good enough for her.
As long as she had a clear shot, like last time. But last time was with her last bullet, for the illusions wasted most of the other lead.
The deputy aimed, grip shaking as she stared at the smaller woman, still donned in her pretentiously tailored black dress, gloves and heels. A head strap of pearls rested on her forehead, a purple gem in the middle. Her faded dark hair was still braided into twin buns, her face dubbed in dark eyeliner and her smirk highlighting the black lipstick she wore in life. Her purple eyes shone with same hunger, the same arrogance she had until Silva put a bullet between her eyes.
Silva refused to blink for even a moment lest she lost sight of the apostle, potentially giving the demon an opening that could end in her retching up her own bloody insides if she wasn't careful.
"You're dead," Silva uttered, shaking her head as she took a step back from the shorter woman, "You can't be alive... I killed you."
Zhan Tiri's eyes widened in exaggeration, her mouth mockingly agape as she feigned a gasp, a gloved hand covering her mouth, "Did you now?"
Zhan Tiri dropped that hand, lips pursed and brows furrowed as she began examining herself, hands patting down on her body and then tracing her veiled fingers between her forehead, searching for the hole that Silva knew she fired her last bullet through.
Finding nothing, Zhan Tiri looked to Silva and gave a audacious shrug. her smirk transforming into a grin.
"Are you certain about that?" the Zhan challenged, showing off the fangs disguised as teeth.
Silva tried to control her breathing, body protesting as she remained standing, focusing her aim towards the Zhan's forhead once again.
Zhan Tiri took a small step closer, the vindictive grin on her face never disappearing, "Surely you have more to say to me than this? After all, Paul did say we were fami-"
Silva fired her pistol. She heard the bang. She saw the projectile hit the target.
But no body fell. No body laid on the grass at all. In fact, Zhan Tiri disappeared in a puff of green mist, unlike monochrome colors of her usual toxins.
Silva glanced around for the witch, turning to the nearby foliage, then to the dirt path, towards the burning conservatory and the Angels that laid unmoving, then returned her aim back to the spot the Zhan was in, only to be face to face with the apostle.
Silva couldn't act fast enough before the Zhan burst in a cloud of green mist as she pushed the deputy. The push wasn't physical, so Silva wasn't effected.
However, she could not recover her balance, tripping over herself when the Bliss clouded her vision, coughing as she slipped and stumbled, tumbling down the short slope until she was closer to what was once the Jessop Conservatory, the surviving green mist worming away from the flames to leech off the deputy.
Silva pushed herself up, catching sight of the dead woman who stood with a haughty posture.
Silva eyed the Zhan, her fastened breathing catching the scents of Bliss, and defiantly said, "You're not real."
Zhan hummed inquisitively, "Perhaps. But I'm real enough for you."
Silva clenched her jaw, raising her pistol with one hand, and reaching for her strapped dagger with the other.
The apostle scoffed at the deputy's actions, her gaze turning towards the Bliss spilled about, some of it being eaten away by the ever consuming flames, some of it trying to slither away. Her purple eyes laid on the still bodies of angels behind Silva, untouched by the fiery tornado.
"Quite the scene you've made. And what a waste for this... "Faith" girl of yours," the Zhan said with a faux pout, "All that time and effort set back who knows how long. On the bright side though, her talents still lives on, if only wasted for that prophet. I think I'd make for a far better mentor, wouldn't you agree?"
Silva's grip tightened around the handle of her dagger as she pulled it out, the Bliss gently wrapping itself around her wrist.
In her peripheral, she thought she saw movement with one of the angels bodies, but ignored it in favor of keeping her eyes on the apostle before her.
"Get out," Silva drew out her dagger and set it alongside her pistol as she spat out with venom, "Of my head!"
The surrounded bodies of Angels started convulsing, muffled groaning and screaming coming from behind their masks, catching Silva's attention. Zhan Tiri smirked.
"If you can fight for it."
Silva counted the Angels rising up from the ground, the ones she swore she took out with her rifle not moments ago. Shit, why couldn't have the explosion consumed them too?!
"This has been such a pleasant welcome back for me, Sylvester," the Zhan told the deputy, Bliss circling around the dead apostles heels, raising her up like she was on a colossal podium, "But now?"
Silva raised her pistol at the towering Zhan, the angels standing at their full heights around the deputy. Glancing about, her weapons readied, Silva could count three unarmed while four held an assortment of tools like rakes and shovels, with pipes and a burnt picket picked up from the rubble of the conservatory.
"Shall we pick up..."
Silva noticed how a mist of Bliss had risen up and grew in size around them, closing off the sights of the conservatory and all avenues of escape.
Turning back to her old foe, now armed with twin balls of Bliss, elevated upon a higher vantage point that swayed from one way to another. With a grin rich in shameless maliciousness directed at Silva, the deputy was starting to wish she was confronted by Faith instead.
"...where we left off?"
Silva couldn't back down from this, despite how much she was going to hate it. Whether this was the Bliss, the aftereffects of the broken conditioning, or through whatever impossible means, real... she only had one thought to encapsulate how she felt in that very moment, before the angels made their first move.
Fuck my life.
And lastly, here is a OC Meme template for my The UnTitledverse characters:
From left to right, up to down:
Mario Emmet (FNAF, Star Wars, Various) [The Perfect Storm, The Omniscient Rule & The Ender sagas] | Calvin Dearing (Various) [The Perfect Storm saga] | Jeff Hopper (Stranger Things, IT, DOOM, FNAF, Various) [The Perfect Storm & The Omniscient Rule sagas] | Madame Callaghan (Resident Evil) [The Omniscient Rule & The UnTitled Ventures saga] | Lisa Cobalt (Jurassic World, IT: Welcome To Derry, DOOM, Pet Sematary, Various) [The Perfect Storm & The Omniscient Rule sagas] | Fizzer Pop (FNAF, Various) [The Omniscient Rule & The Ender sagas] | Lillian "Lena" Elliot (FNAF, DOOM: Eternal, Pet Sematary, Various) [The Perfect Storm, The Omniscient Rule & The Ender sagas] | Malcolm Darling (The Last Of Us, Various) [The Omniscient Rule & The Ender sagas] | Edward Carmine (Jurassic World, TWDG, DOOM, Various) [The Perfect Storm saga & Jagged Fractures Novelization]
Blank Template below:
