What Are You The Patron Saint Of ?

what are you the patron saint of ?

patron saint of blood. patron saint of the life that flows through our bodies. patron saint of violence. patron saint of love. something that does not watch over but exists within: not for protection but for vitality. there is no passion without a beating heart at its core. when that heart breaks open, someone has to be responsible for what it bleeds.

tagged by : @skysplita & @sunlightreverie ! tagging : @myhiraeth , @g0dteeth , @waldenstationed , & whoever wants to !

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Just thinking about how Murphy was the only one able calm himself during the eclipse.

THE HALLS OF THE ARK were eerie, haunted by memories of what now felt like a lifetime ago and illuminated in a dreary fluorescence. the past pricked at murphy's nerves, and for a moment, the thought of the lighthouse bunker crossed his mind. he'd die of starvation eventually, sure . . . but could it have been better than this god - forsaken place ?

there's a damp rag in his dry hands, and murphy takes a step toward the window. a soft, relenting scoff rolls off his lips at her remark, and murphy knows the feeling. hell, he'd probably say the same.

i should've gone down fighting, she says. there's a soft silence that hangs between the two for a moment, eyes still on the sight of the earth now engulfed in flames. again. their lives and everything they'd dreamed of . . . fought for.

" why ? " he asks, gaze shifting to the girl warrior beside him. " so you can be dead, too ? " he shakes his head, looking back to the irradiated planet. he agreed, jaha didn't deserve to live . . . not after alie, and certainly not after casting them out. again.

" 've got nothing but time now . . . " he trails. " give it five years and we'll be back. " attention shifts back down to the rag. then to octavia. " you'll get your revenge. " and of that, he had no doubt.

" for now, though, you need to take off that spacesuit. " he tries again. he hadn't been through nearly what the other had, and even his body was aching. " c'mon octavia, you were in the rain. in battle. not like that thing's comfy anyway. "

@hevives asked: i can’t help you if you won’t let me .

" I don't need anyone's help. " Octavia’s utterance, razor - rough in the back of her mouth and thick with exhaustion, almost fell flat against the unrelenting whir of alpha station's abused hydraulics and air scrubbers.  Sounds she'd never thought, in a hundred years, she'd hear again after so long on the ground.

In the aftermath of their struggle up into space, she could hardly shield from Murphy the truth. That she hurt. That, under the thin carapace of her spacesuit, her skin chafed with fresh radiation burns and cuts and deep, aching bruises: all markers of the ill fated conclave, of a lengthy and unforgiving war — of wounds garnered in a battle of honor that Jaha's deceit had dashed in a moment of selfishness, and rendered utterly futile.

No abundance of still - shining stars outside the airlock or clean, repurposed air could pull her from the memory of the sound Roan had made when he'd drowned. Couldn't block out the thought of Indra, down there in the crypt of the first commander, awaiting a certain death she could've saved her from.

Jaha deserved her sword as much as Pike had.

" I never thought we'd be back here, " she breathed, gaze trained on the curve of the Earth down below, instead of on Murphy's. " I could have stopped Jaha. I should have gone down fighting. "

the muse’s aesthetic       (spooky edition)

bold all of the themes that apply.

bloodied knuckles  |  tear stained cheeks  | rust | a busted lip |  claws  |  fangs  |  a bloody nose |  chattering teeth  | a dark space underneath the bed |  scratching noises on a wall  |  creaking metal  | fog  |  dancing under moonlight  |  blood dripping lips  | heavy breathing in the dark  | a feeling of unexplained dread | a figure in a dark corner |   dirty peeling wallpaper  | a bloody handprint on the wall | sobbing in the dark | bite marks on the skin | eerie whispers in the dark |  a hood covering a stranger’s eyes  | the growl of a hidden animal  | the sound of a blade being sharpened | a deep, dark forest | walking on the streets alone at night | a cobweb-filled, abandoned building  | eyes darting in paranoia | a heavy beating pulse |  the feeling of being trapped  |  struggling to get out a scream  |  boards covering broken windows  |  a quiet graveyard  |  a gas station in the middle of nowhere  |  a road that never ends  |  heavy fog rolling in | the scent of blood in the air  | eerie old photographs |  walking along traintracks at night  |  a chill going up the spine  | gathering crows  | a dusty, dimly lit study  |  mist over a deserted cobblestone street  | ghost towns  |  shadows around a campfire |  the sound of chanting |  church bells tolling  | an orange harvest moon  |  a broken down carnival  |  a dirty stuffed animal abandoned  | wiping bloody hands on fabric  |  nightmares | waking up in a panic |  a power outage  |  heavy lightning storms  |  a secret trap door  |  the feeling of being watched  |  fear from trauma |  a ouija board set out on a table  |  an eerie doll  |  a scream of anguish and pain |  withered plants  |  a room that’s been forgotten and gathered dust  |  owl eyes in the dark  |  curled, dead tree branches  |  a ritual altar  |  flickering candles  |  a lantern held up in the dark  | fear of being followed |  creaking floorboards  |  repressed, horrible memories  |  clenched teeth |  soft, echoing piano keys |  an old book covered in dust  |  many pairs of glaring eyes |  stumbling in pitch black darkness  |  being stranded in the middle of nowhere  |  tarot cards on a table  | a trail of blood 

tagged by :  @heroach ! ♡  tagging :  anyone  that  wants  to !  feel  free  to  tag  me ,  or  don’t ! ♡