16 Works by dandelight
Listing Works
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Geralt studies Jaskier's hands like a map.
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like strangers in the dark by dandelight for SilentJellyfish
Fandoms: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons)
16 Dec 2021
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"Can I ask, then," Hisirdoux continued softly, "why do you come back here if it's not what you're looking for?"
Aja sits silent for a moment, thinking. "I guess..." she starts, glancing back up, "I stopped caring whether or not these were real, because the things that are real are much, much scarier."
— or: Sometimes, in a world devoid of hope, it falls on us to create our own. -
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“Please, Doux. Don’t do this to me.” The amulet gleams with weakening sparks; Jim knows that it only has so much energy left to give to him. Still, he grips the artifact with vigor and sets his jaw. “I am not going back to the others without you. Do you hear me?”
— or: As Jim knows from his own experience, stalklings and storms don't mix well. He expects nothing different from this encounter, but he didn't count on Douxie getting caught in the crossfire.
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"I recall you once asking yourself what kind of a hero you'd be if you sacrificed everyone else for your own sake. Yet here you are, tampering with a power you can't even comprehend, because that desire to play hero eclipsed any concern you could've had for the people you might be hurting in the process."
Douxie stops, inches away from Jim. His shoulders shake with barely contained fury. "Tell me, Jim. Who does that remind you of?"
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I Fear There'll Be Nothing Good Left Of You by dandelight
Fandoms: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons)
23 Sep 2021
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"You could have saved yourself from this fate," Bellroc says, almost sympathetically. "A pity, then, that you're too much of a hero for your own good."
— or: The Order gave the world its magic. They can just as easily take it away from a meddling little wizard.
Series
- Part 1 of Nothing Left of You
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Douxie knew, going in, that his plan was only temporary. And though he had fixed them with a bitter glare and dared them to do their worst, fear still churned raving and angry in his gut.
No one was coming. And soon, the Order would have Nari.
— or: Douxie will do anything to ensure that Nari stays out of the Order's hands, even if that means becoming part of the collateral damage himself.
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Glancing upwards, Douxie could make out the faint glow of the fireplace in the den. A groan escaped him at the thought of having to climb all the way back up the cavern.
“Great. Just my luck to make a mess of Merlin’s last request."
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an abstract conceptualization of vanitas after the battle in kh3
— inspired by the "night on bald mountain" and "ave maria" segments of fantasia (1940)
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“I’ve been to the same worlds as you,” Vanitas says, almost breathless. Ventus lifts his other hand and cradles the curve of Vanitas’ jaw.
“Not with me, you haven’t.”
— or: ventus approaches vanitas with a proposition.
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Ventus thinks Vanitas is wrong. Vanitas couldn't disagree more.
Nothing's changed between them, has it?
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(sorry about) the blood in your mouth by dandelight
Fandoms: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
25 Jan 2020
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If Armin were an honest man, he’d have no trouble admitting to himself that the person he used to be was long gone.
— or: in the aftermath of chapter 112
(for armin week, day six) -
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"It's always about your friends, isn't it?"
Roxas tilts his head to look at him. He’s not angry or bothered, but harbors a curious sort of expression. Vanitas wonders, not for the first time, if Roxas sees the shadows of Sora in his skin, as well. His gaze looks far too much like pity. As if Vanitas needs any of that. After a beat of silence, Roxas responds with a question of his own. “What’s so wrong with that?”
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With his free leg, Toomes begins to kick at Peter, attempting to loosen his death grip on his suit. A few well-aimed strikes to Peter’s arm is enough to reward him with a terrified scream from the kid as his hands finally fall away. His body, however, doesn’t fall with him.
(or: peter vs the vulture, but peter gets off a lot worse)
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“We aren’t exactly following the same line of vision, Lance.”
At that, Lance shifted his position, moving so that he sat closer to Keith. Their shoulders brushed as he extended his arm upwards again. “There,” he spoke in an almost-whisper, tracing the outline of the imaginary constellation like a child following a dot-to-dot illustration. Keith watched his movements from his peripheral vision, hoping that Lance was too preoccupied to notice the rapid beating of his heart. “Can you see it now?”
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Keith raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Have you ever even held a sword in your life?”
“Hey, there’s a lot you still don’t know about me,” Lance responded, testing the weight of the blade in his palm. Their eyes locked, and a competitive grin slid its way onto Lance’s face. Keith matched him with his own smirk, kneeling down to pick up his bayard and gripping the handle tightly.
“Then teach me.”
(or: in which lance is Weak™ for keith with a ponytail but doesn't quite know it yet)
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After Malachor, nothing is the same. Everything is too quiet, too dark, too much. No one wants to break the silence.
Because at least silence is coated in certainty.