#versusnight

[pr0phetic]

in another world,  she’d implore him to listen.    the rose colored glasses she once employed at his actions are crushed under the heel of responsibility.   the once alluring mystery of a man as wondrous as him is nothing now,   not when he's drowned them in his pride .   a man who loved the throne more than he loved his wife. a man keeping a trophy, a prophet hidden among his round table in plain sight.    does he know the depth of fate?  that each memory sings a new hymn,  another promise.  [ this is all temporary, this crown you bare is nothing compared to whats set to pass, this blood is nothing compared to what should be shed —    be afraid.   clarissa bites her tongue — silences the words,   burns the prophecies on her tongue.    he wanted a war. he will have one. ]     so when he faces her,   in the middle of the night against the balcony covered in darkness :   it’s too much.  it’s wrong.  it’s a mockery of everything she's ever been taught to believe.

Q: WILL I BE KING? A: YOU WILL DIE LONG BEFORE THE CROWN TOUCHES YOUR FOREHEAD.

❝  you're making a mistake.  ❞      her voice shakes ever so slightly ,  suddenly nervous around him.    [ earlier,  she would have said it was the nerves of being around the man she loved.   the sense of intimacy in their every interaction,   but now it’s budding resentment.  ]     she turns away,  avoiding him.   avoiding his eyes that expect answers or forgiveness, neither of which will come to fruition in front of her,    the same eyes that haunt her dreams       —   but she can’t forgive and she will never forget.      ❝  you've rushed into things, like always.  ❞   moonlight paints her silk features, illuminating a pale glow until she's transfixed into a phantom of a woman, the haunting of a ghost meant to lay lament upon lament on an army of fools. lead by the man she thought she loved. clarissa spares him a single forlorn look, a glance as eyes gloss over.     ❝ you're going to die here & i won't be there to save you.  ❞

selected impromptu spur.  post-war invasion. atlas & clarrisa.  ♡  @versusnight

[royialty]

the first step onto the island feels surreal—like stepping into a dream crafted from brochures and corporate branding. clara’s heels click against the polished concrete of the arrivals terminal, the sound swallowed by the buzz of activity around her. employees in crisp uniforms move with purpose, and beyond the glass walls, lush greenery spills into view. the air smells different here. humid and alive, carrying the faint, earthy scent of soil and something... primal. she adjusts the collar of her blazer, a perfectly tailored piece chosen to exude confidence, and reminds herself to breathe. this is what she worked for.

the monorail hums as it carries her deeper into the heart of the park, sleek and modern against a backdrop of untamed jungle. towering ferns sway in the breeze, their emerald leaves catching the sun like fragments of stained glass. beyond them, the shadow of a paddock looms, and her pulse quickens. everything here feels larger than life, almost impossibly so. she catches glimpses of creatures in the distance—long necks stretching toward the canopy, tails swaying lazily. her heart stirs with a mixture of awe and unease. this is the future, she tells herself. her future.

inside the visitor center, she barely has time to register the sound of boots against the sleek floor before footsteps catch her attention. her head turns, and there he is. eren hoffman, his posture as tense and jagged as the jagged cliffs beyond the park. his gaze is sharp, and for a fleeting moment, the polished smile she’d been wearing feels even more forced. she's heard the rumors of the playboy investor of the elusive jurassic park reborn, and she's well aware that he could kick her out as the face of the company if she were to anger him.

❝ — thank you for the invitation. it's an honor to be here and my entire crew is ecstatic to be here. ❞ she steps forward, her tone warm. clara extends a hand to him, thinking how her friends couldn't believe the twist of fate they've fallen into. the adventure to be here first. ❝ it's a beautiful park sir, truly. magical. ❞ beyond the glass, one of the dinosaurs lets out a low, rumbling call, and for the briefest second, her breath catches. she feels both incredibly small and unmistakably significant, standing at the crossroads of the impossible and the inevitable.

@versusnight

[holyspawns]

it only takes seconds for the senator to imagine her padawan protector as the little boy he once was — perhaps, it is the easiest way of remembering him now. he seems too aged, even at just twenty. his eyes overpower everything else, &. now when she looks into them, all she can feel is his warmth. though warmth is a strange thing; it heals, but too much of it can hurt.

padme's arms rest firmly on the pillar, &. when she finally looks at the man beside her, she easily feels the weight of his burden through the littlest of things; the pace he follows her at— the kindness within his gaze— the touch of his hand on her cheek. [he is softer than he is willing to admit.]

❛❛ I MUST ADMIT — I FEEL SAFER WITH YOU CLOSE. you make things better, when i get so lonely here. when i miss my mother, when i miss the smell of my home, you are what soothes me. ❜❜

for @versusnight's anakin skywalker.

[royialty]

the OR is a different world, a world where every breath is measured, every movement precise. noor stands in the corner, a step behind, watching. the sterile scent of antiseptic lingers in the air, but it’s not enough to mask the tension that threads through the space, the low hum of machines, the focused murmurs of the team. her hands are still, poised to act if needed, but she’s here to learn, to observe. but then her eyes find jace. he stands at the head of the table, his focus so sharp it feels like a physical presence, cutting through the chaos of the room with a surgeon’s discipline. his movements are fluid, practiced, as though he’s done this a thousand times before—and yet, there’s something raw in the way he handles the delicate precision of the procedure.

noor's eyes follow his hands, the way his fingers move with both strength and caution. how does he do it? she wonders, watching as he deftly manipulates the patient’s skull, eyes locked on the monitors but never losing track of the human in front of him. there’s a confidence in him, a quiet arrogance that says he’s untouchable here, that he’s done this too many times to fear the unknown. she watches the curve of his jaw tighten as he adjusts the surgical tool, his brow furrowing ever so slightly. it’s a fleeting moment, but it’s enough for her to catch. a flicker of doubt, a shadow in his gaze, that she can't shake.

❝ the scalpel — here, ❞ she responds as his voice cuts through her thoughts, low but commanding, and noor snaps to attention. her fingers tremble as she hands it over, but his eyes don’t leave the patient. he doesn’t see her—not really—but she feels it. feels the weight of his presence, the quiet gravity that draws everything into his orbit. the procedure continues in silence, the minutes stretching, and still, she’s aware of him in a way she can’t describe. there’s something magnetic about the way he works, how he takes control of the situation without saying a word, without even trying. it’s as though he’s always known he belongs here, always knew he could make the impossible possible. it's an honor to be here. ❝ beautiful work, truly. ❞

@versusnight

[aldereign]

when she closes her eyes,   she’s back there again.         the fields of alderaan so open & welcoming,  a child might say it’s the most peaceful place on earth.    her home is decorated with white & gold markers of peace,  flags held high.   the work of bail organa is never forgotten,   not even now,  when he’s laid to rest.   when she opens them,   she’s still here.   a prisoner in front of her own friend,  a princess without a home.   left to fend for herself.   tongue in cheek,   leia can pretend it doesn’t hurt.   that betrayal doesn’t sting.   ❝  my education is none of your concern,   perhaps i should question your lack of.  tell me,  weren’t you the one who missed lesson after lesson?  ❞  

an image.  two children,  teasing each other along the hills by the idyllic palace,  underneath the statue of senator amidala.  they’re safe.  protected.  the only worry they have is what weather will come tomorrow.  the boy from her memories is gone.  only a skeleton is left in his wake. 

❝   you wound me,   as if you have any right to know me — or have you forgotten  ? ❞          a step forward,    the defiance of a hundred senators,   the words of every citizen she remembers.    the faces of those she loved that were destroyed in a moment’s notice.   bail & breha,  bail & breha,  bail & breha,   did you think of them?   her smile carries the anger in her blood.        ❝  the blood on your hands is yours.   what blood do i carry?    what mistakes have i made?     aside from trusting you.  ❞    

she’s never going home again.   

@versusnight amitash & leia.

[holysick]

❛ for a moment, i forgot to worry. ❜ megumi 2 yuji <33

◞ levity : one . a lightness of mind . leviity is rarely found amidst the ashes and rubble that has become their lives . his words bring another ' s to mind : ' being a child is not a sin . ' nanamin had once said to him . . . ' you shouldn ' t have to , ' he wants to say . to reach out and hold his hand . to smile at him . intertwine megumi ' s elegant fingers with his and squeeze in reassurance . but how can he ? his hands are bloodied , and nanamin is dead , nobara is too . . . and it ' s all because of him . it wasn ' t supposed to be this way . kugisaki , nanamin , gojo - sensei . . . all those people . no one was supposed to get hurt : it was only him who was meant to die all along . a second of levity between them turns into guilt . cement in his stomach . cement in his lungs . and he wants to retch again . " fushiguro , i -- " voice feels tight : eyes of burning brown : once vibrant , now dull . glistening with unshed tears , they look for familiar greens . " i ' m sorry . . . i ' m so sorry . "