ππππππ
Leaf's won, among other things, a Dratini hairband. It took some work, but she's managed to make the ear fins look like ear fins without taking her hat off. It's an accomplishment! Maybe it's not as obvious as some of the other prize winners, but it was only a carnival game, and she doesn't need the stares anyway. It can stay tucked under the brim of her hat for her own satisfaction. She's got a Long Poster tucked under one arm, with the other occupied as it is. It's not a Dratini or Dragonair, which she doesn't understand, but she has it now anyway.
The sun is a disc on the horizon, but the festival is only really getting started. There are signs everywhere about a glowing ribbon show pointing towards the beach, and she's going that way, but it doesn't take much time before Leaf is distracted by a Pokémon, a yellow bug-type that's lurking behind the food stalls she'd watched help pitch the tops for earlier. When she asks, she gets told that's Galvantula.
The tiny Vulpix cradled in her arm hides her face. Leaf laughs and lets her.
Right. Ribbon show.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
focusedvoid2023-04-20 12:00 ami walk away from the soundless room~
(art by juvehiir)
The Shining City knows the Prin well. Significantly better than the Hallowed Heir, who keeps to the Palace nearly as much as Hallownest’s King. It’s not half as much of an event when they’re seen striding through the streets, escorted by none. They’re the one who escorts others, at times; Marissa in particular, after she gained a little too much attention in turn by their initial visit, or other such shopkeepers who found a surge in popularity after finding a royal customer.
Thankfully, the worst of the dramatics and kowtowing tapered off as time went by. These days, Prin Ghost is given the occasional bow and a far more common wave, but barely any second glances.
Just as they wished.
And entertaining to everyone involved.
And entertaining to everyone involved.
Tucked within their cloak-wings, a good half of their brood clings, unknown to all but the most observant of passerby. Fuzz tickles with their silent laughter.
They wander with half a plan, furry heads popping out at their signals to observe and hide again. There's only a little rain to shake off afterwards. (A little? It's still plenty. Prin Ghost is used to such phantom considerations.)
An excellent game.
An excellent game.
focusedvoid2022-10-31 05:57 amvoicetest the voiceless
They're not dead.
Less dead than they'd felt, at least. Their shell doesn't normally take so long to reform.
Then again. Their shell doesn't usually break of their own violation as they ascended in a boiling rage, ate at least one realm, a god, and all the Godseekers.
(That last point is debatable, actually. There's some odd sense, deep under their...shell? Void? Wherever they once stored things like Isma's Tear, much deeper now...that the sea-mind is still there, sluggish and held in a stasis. They're already adjusting enough, and they don't seem to be dying or trying to kill them, so that problem is neatly sorted as 'for later'.)
They push their body to stand. Their horn clangs uncomfortably loudly against the grate they've apparently woken up beneath. They're somewhere in the Royal Waterways. A quick check of the map--or, not so quick, as it takes time to locate where it had been--shows they've risen about halfway through, closer to the City of Tears than the White Palace. They'll go to the Stag Station in the City Storerooms next.
So they think. Complications arise on the way.
The Infection is gone, leaving dead Flukes, Pilflips, and Hwurmps in piles enough it takes time to force their way past. Their body seems too small. No, their body is fine--there's something wrong with perception itself. That will take time to adjust to.
Then, they discover the Monarch Wings now stretch and warp when used, twisting around the nearest pipes after landing before the Knight forcibly calls them back. Shade Wings, they decide to call these.
Once they're high enough to hear the rain above, they realize a noise they'd ascribed to water running in the distance is, in fact, something swirling behind their mask. Many somethings. All the fragments of Siblings with enough self left, staring out from their eyes. It's disconcerting.
By the time they actually get out of the Waterways, they're using their Shade Wings to grip ledges and drag themselves up, with those holding onto things better than their own arms are with the Mantis Claw.
The Knight faceplants awkwardly onto the floor of the building Lemm's shop is in. If the City is the same as below, there's little left to try killing them in the area.
They'll just take a moment here, thanks.
they textin' | OTA
1) ΣοΌοΏ£β‘οΏ£οΌοΌ
2) everyone thinks im sleeping but im actuly just melting
3) its a selfie
4) asgore seems like a sad guy 4 some1 trying 2 kill me
5) i caugth a bee. it didnt like it ((´Π΄ο½))
6) I NEVER ATE A GRILLbY BURGER
7) [whatever else]
[for anybody who doesn't care for their typos, just say and I'll tone 'em down!]
2) everyone thinks im sleeping but im actuly just melting
3) its a selfie
4) asgore seems like a sad guy 4 some1 trying 2 kill me
5) i caugth a bee. it didnt like it ((´Π΄ο½))
6) I NEVER ATE A GRILLbY BURGER
7) [whatever else]
[for anybody who doesn't care for their typos, just say and I'll tone 'em down!]
impure_void2020-08-24 06:43 amthere's so many things that you'll never understand
MEMORIAL TO THE
HOLLOW KNIGHT
------------------------
In the Black Vault far above.
Through its sacrifice Hallownest lasts eternal.
HOLLOW KNIGHT
------------------------
In the Black Vault far above.
Through its sacrifice Hallownest lasts eternal.
There's a figure at the base of the fountain, bent double, yet still taller than most bugs that once wandered these streets.
( mess time )
bygone_beloved2019-04-12 06:22 amhey there. do you know me?
He looks in a reflection, and he doesn't, he doesn't, he does.
Tobio. His name's Tobio.
He's home now, and the windows are broken. He's home now, and Robita is broken in the middle of the living room. He's home now, and the leaves blow in and settle in the dust. He's home now.
There are pictures of him in the attic, arranged in a circle around the room.
He's not always home. Sometimes he's far away. Sometimes he can see through someone else's eyes. A robot, a perfect son, not perfect enough for his dad. He hates him. He loves him. He's scared and he's angry, but he's sad more than anything. And he wants the robot to know. He's tried his best. It's up to him.
He's home now.
hatchethanging2018-11-28 08:47 amEntry tags:
When hinges creak in doorless chambers...
Welcome, foolish mortals,
to the Haunted Mansion.
Watch your step on the way in, please.
just as you breathe (post c_p)
Nobody gets why, halfway down the mountain, Frisk bolts.
Toriel and Asgore think they changed their mind about not having places to go or the ambassador idea. Everyone scatters through the trees to search for them--eventually, Papyrus is the one to stumble over them, to talk to them, to coax them back with his positive affirmations.
They don't explain why they stare at everyone like they're seeing their bare SOULs (yeah, punk, I'm great! WE'RE great, right, Alphys?), or why they keep touching their teeth (do you have a toothache, my child?), or why they constantly pace through the house they eventually move into with Toriel, opening doors as if they're expecting something else to be behind them (I don't think there are any monsters in the closet, little one).
It's just...Frisk. They're a good kid, even if they're a little strange.
Toriel and Asgore think they changed their mind about not having places to go or the ambassador idea. Everyone scatters through the trees to search for them--eventually, Papyrus is the one to stumble over them, to talk to them, to coax them back with his positive affirmations.
They don't explain why they stare at everyone like they're seeing their bare SOULs (yeah, punk, I'm great! WE'RE great, right, Alphys?), or why they keep touching their teeth (do you have a toothache, my child?), or why they constantly pace through the house they eventually move into with Toriel, opening doors as if they're expecting something else to be behind them (I don't think there are any monsters in the closet, little one).
It's just...Frisk. They're a good kid, even if they're a little strange.
fly me to--
The crumbling stairs are a memory--remember, Nebbie, remember being Nebby, so small and afraid, remember when we fell?
The crumbling stairs are an adventure, hundreds and hundreds and hundreds up to a peak, leaving her breathing hard and aching at the top every time; even if the Ride Pokémon ever dared to drop her off at the Altar (and they never did), she would've told them to put her at the bottom anyway.
The crumbling stairs are beautiful, looking down from above.
That isn't why she's here.
There's a strange distortion in the air. It's deeper and louder than it's ever been.
An hour before, she said "Let's see how far we can go," Nebbie waving their wings and trilling agreement, and this is their fruit. She can see another world through the crack, fuzzy and different from the usual.
Nebbie appears flies into the sky without her prompting, singing, singing, and they sound like bells made of stars.
Moon traces her finger over Nebbie's Pokéball and thinks again: Let's see how far we can go.
Farewell, Altar of the Moone.
The world splits open, and she strides through, Nebbie her sky-blocking shadow.
The crumbling stairs are an adventure, hundreds and hundreds and hundreds up to a peak, leaving her breathing hard and aching at the top every time; even if the Ride Pokémon ever dared to drop her off at the Altar (and they never did), she would've told them to put her at the bottom anyway.
The crumbling stairs are beautiful, looking down from above.
That isn't why she's here.
There's a strange distortion in the air. It's deeper and louder than it's ever been.
An hour before, she said "Let's see how far we can go," Nebbie waving their wings and trilling agreement, and this is their fruit. She can see another world through the crack, fuzzy and different from the usual.
Nebbie appears flies into the sky without her prompting, singing, singing, and they sound like bells made of stars.
Moon traces her finger over Nebbie's Pokéball and thinks again: Let's see how far we can go.
Farewell, Altar of the Moone.
The world splits open, and she strides through, Nebbie her sky-blocking shadow.
thethrillof2017-06-01 05:49 amSUPER! SMASH! BROTHERRRRS!
(art source!)
Welcome to Super Smash Bros., the biggest fighting tournament there is! Spanning dozens of worlds, more and more are added every few years, the greatest names come to battle!
...Why?
Why not?
( possible prompts )
Mix, match, make your own!
notes: characters can make shields that look a bit like force fields, even if they couldn't in their home canon! they can also pull weapons from nowhere, hold laser swords, and fire gun-like weapons in the same way.
feel free to give as much information in a top-level as you want~! and don't worry about duplicates or non-video game characters. anyone can join!
Welcome to Super Smash Bros., the biggest fighting tournament there is! Spanning dozens of worlds, more and more are added every few years, the greatest names come to battle!
...Why?
Why not?
( possible prompts )
Mix, match, make your own!
notes: characters can make shields that look a bit like force fields, even if they couldn't in their home canon! they can also pull weapons from nowhere, hold laser swords, and fire gun-like weapons in the same way.
feel free to give as much information in a top-level as you want~! and don't worry about duplicates or non-video game characters. anyone can join!
thethrillof2017-05-25 02:03 amclose your eyes
(open your mind, and see--)
They say dreams are a world.
This isn't right. This isn't wrong.
Dreams are a state. Dreams are a sharing. Dreams poke holes in reality, linking strangers and friends in ways that may be forgotten, come morning.
So does it matter?
Get some rest.
They say dreams are a world.
This isn't right. This isn't wrong.
Dreams are a state. Dreams are a sharing. Dreams poke holes in reality, linking strangers and friends in ways that may be forgotten, come morning.
So does it matter?
Get some rest.
thethrillof2017-05-25 01:55 amcut to credits
(hum your own dirge, if you're the type.)
This is the end.
No, no, that's not true. The end was a little while ago.
A wound, a sickness, an accident. This is after the end. A ship ride to the afterlife, though it's hard to tell where it could be going. The seas are dark, even when the skies are bright, and it's hard to see too far off the sides and through the portholes.
It could be a beginning, instead, for the positive thinkers, or those who (think they've) wasted their lives. There are many on this boat, after all, be they enjoying the odd-but-comforting air on the top, or trying to relax below-decks. Who knows what bonds might be formed on the way?
This is the end.
No, no, that's not true. The end was a little while ago.
A wound, a sickness, an accident. This is after the end. A ship ride to the afterlife, though it's hard to tell where it could be going. The seas are dark, even when the skies are bright, and it's hard to see too far off the sides and through the portholes.
It could be a beginning, instead, for the positive thinkers, or those who (think they've) wasted their lives. There are many on this boat, after all, be they enjoying the odd-but-comforting air on the top, or trying to relax below-decks. Who knows what bonds might be formed on the way?