ethereal skies

daniel james is the tides, his hair is wavy like the currents and words and thoughts change as the days pass. gentle, and can be harsh when need be. waves of change may be slow, and what promise they hold comes and goes. sometimes things are stormy, and sometimes things are calm and clear, and just about all the time the ocean is so unknown. but we are learning a little more about it every day.

phillip michael is the moon. arguably he could also be the sun, but what else could it be that pulls dan to this boy? with pale skin and eyes like the skies, he’s ethereal. never the same from day to night, calm yet shines with a smile so bright. his head and mind is up high in space; we may never know everything about what goes on up there, but we may admire from afar. luminous is he.

daniel is the tides, pulled closer by phillip, the moon. if you try hard to listen, the waves crash in an effort to reach the sky, and the stars twinkle in a soft response.

ThunderBlink fanfiction

For all mt fellow ThunderBlink shippers, here’s some fanfics of our ship to make us fall deeper in the ThunderBlink hole :’)

Mirage by GossipQueen200

[ He didn’t get to be arrogant and demanding and she wasn’t going to stay around to explain why messing with peoples head was not ok. But did he care, or was she seeing what she wanted to see? and what about her, did she actually care? or was it just someone else feelings she was feeling? Thunderblink]

smoke & mirrors by ethereal skies

[ It all felt so real. Why did it feel so real? / Oneshots based on each episode, starting with 1.05, “boXed in.” Thunderblink-centric]

into the dark by Chasseuse

[ Do you realise what you’ve done? What that could lead to? (ThunderBlink, minor DreamerBird.)]

Take My Hand by Stratagem

[ When the mutant underground headquarters is attacked by the Sentinel Services, John and Clarice have to make a run for it with their kids. They’re always one step ahead of Sentinel Services, but can that last? Set in a future AU where John and Clarice are married with two kids]

Invulnerable by Stratagem

[ Short stories about John and Clarice, and sometimes the rest of The Gifted crew]

In Another Life by Stratagem

[ John is raising a daughter on his own, working at Xavier’s, and balancing “superhero” duties when Clarice moves into his apartment building. He’s curious about her. On her end, Clarice isn’t sure what to make of John and his daughter. It’s better to not get close to people, but it’s also nice to be wanted. Single Parent AU]

What Could Be by Stratagem

[ Stories set in an AU future where Clarice and John get married and have a couple kids, JD and Hope. Very fluffy most of the time. Lorna and Marcos also have a kid, a daughter named Aurora]

Bad coffee and good mornings by Phantasyink

[ The tiniest drabble you will ever find on Thunderbird and Blink. Aka, the one where Clarice tries to sneak in on a sleeping John]

Archive of Our Own

Some Hot Yoga by iwillstayalive

[ Thunderblink training anyone???]

These Feelings by jonsasnow

[ When Clarice realises what Sonia did to her, she leaves in the middle of the night, which she realises belatedly that that wasn’t a great idea at all with Sentinel Services on high alert. Thankfully, John finds her before it’s too late. Too bad he’s the last person she really wants to see right now]

Stars in Our Sky by yerawizardlani

[ An exploration into the life of Clarice Fong: her past, her escape from the Mutant Detention Center, and her relationship with the Mutant Underground. Because I am incapable of waiting for canon]

Exit Stage Left by MonarchAida

[ The drama club kids decided to put on a play for a mutant day care. They also decide they need some painted props. The rest just happens]

we could be heroes, me and you by therehoodie

[ Six years post The Gifted season one, John, Clarice, and others are on the run for their lives from sentient Sentinels, heading toward the small group of resurfaced X-Men. But when John gets injured on the way to the X-Men, it’s all Clarice can do to keep herself together as time grows short.]

Caeleste Noctua: The Owls Of The Ether


Caeleste Noctua are the ethereal owls of the skies, those who fly in their own cosmic glow. They are cloaked in an etheric light that smoothly changes colors as they fly, the light itself flecked with small twinkling stars. They only have one form (granted they can change their size) and do not wish otherwise. Their feathers are as soft as silk and their beaks are as sharp as a surgical blade. Their eyes are globes of black, all knowing, ever watchful, always calculating. They truly are magnificent to behold


The energy the Noctua radiate is one of mysticism and celestial grace, soothing to all those they are around. They are known to be very comforting and wise, answering some of the weirdest questions without batting an eye. Noctua are very knowledgeable with herbalist properties as well as those of minerals. They are capable of weaving wards around areas through flight, making them skilled protectors.


Colors- Black, Browns, Tans, Purples, Crimsons

Plants-  Petunias, Jasmine, Cedar Trees, Wintergreen, Holly

Stones-  Opalite, Rose Quartz, Tiger Eye, Jasper, Sunstone

Smells- Sandalwood, Teak, Musk, Cedar, Amber, Forest Smells


Maryland, California Skies are Yours

Oct. 28, 2017

A little orgonite in a new place with no orgonite before has the most dramatic effects. Rockville, Maryland skies went through the same incredible transformation we’ve seen in the cities, deserts, mountains, and coastal areas of Californa; the forests, coast, and cities of Oregon; the most desolate hell of terraformed and desertified Nevada, where Ea had taken their toll long ago. Now our world is reborn. The humans have learned the hidden knowledge, which was always inside us. With our own energy, our own life force, free for everyone to use to rejuvenate the Earth and themselves, we have reclaimed our skies.



Glorious days, shining, in journeys of finding things n’ objected dears,
on the knife’s multitudinous tongues, sweating bloody saliva, shipping,
crosshairs in eyes heading towards ethereal skies of mirages, hiding,
splashing childs’ fears and dreams of levitating to Pluto, contrariwise—
He’s called back, mentioned again with insipid passions of the dead,
wrapped in screams immerged by grasps of moralities, societal dignities:
Careless doctors are giving injections to the dyings with beating hearts,
hoping for slight commendations, merit shit, ponderous pockets in Milan,
filing things in anaesthesias n’ signing behind sighs, melancholy masks—
He’s called back, mentioned again, he doesn’t care, doesn’t give a fuck,
he’s the collective side character in everyday suited stuffs’ wet dreams;


Bruises incarnated in carnages of particles, slashing n’ cutting, rushed,
left on trails, nauseating n’ resting as favourite signs of monstrous him—
He’s shouting at fourth walls hoping for saviours of dangers, mindless,
jongleurs passing by sharing zoonoses of chaotic natures, pointing,
flicking paranoias in fetal positions to the said shitter of tears and blood:
Zoomings ignited, eyes popped out as cute cats’ in days of moanings,
synaeresises in pecked brains [oh man, the doctors of black deaths!],
bandages in bitten ankles, feathers in balls, angel in satirized disguise—
He’s moving forward, blocking ears and running among hesitant smears,
he’s going beyond, the representative spurted from mankinds’ comas;


Filths in midnight streets crawling in awes of banderoles popping hues,
wafts from funny businesses clashing against walls, whores smilling—
Temptations and ignorances in designated lines of orgastic bunches
drowning in red edges of communisms talking bullshits, high, mighty,
sides by sides hippies in jeans hiding boners of peace, utopias shit:
Said invisibleness grazing past and judging like a revoked virgin,
new eyes and minds, he’s witnessing a shambolic ball of dilemmas
full of peeps and cunts rolling in ectasies through valleys of Tokyo—
Never before, never again, gaining strengths and stepping in clubs,
governors holding dicks to brows of bodyguards, hastening laughters;


Freaks with shiny nails mumbling fucktard shits, elevating, peeping down
peeps squealing in the discos of new millennia, technologized n’ copied—
With grotesque tighty thighs, chicks with fetishes for sufferings by whips
come creeping, swingin’ hips n’ breasts through monstros demarcations
for climaxes and gigs, sweats of a disdaining newbie in enclaved dumps:
Locked, cut, licked, groped, blackness n’ redness bending and swaying,
bandages into nazis’ ribbons n’ pubic hair, swallowing and shat out,
spitted, mere messes risked by drop-outs in pandemic yawns, sparse—
“Join this club, bang and banged, bring down the motherfuckers!”
“Join this cult, man, fuck and fucked, rip heads of the fucking sires!”


Throats n’ bridges of gimmicks, ontology memorized as numbahs of jails,
criminals of worlds come shaking hands, declaring fine independences—
A mind of landfills with no regrets, a ringing heart of recycled sperms,
trinkets on neck and bands on wrists he’s leaking piss into local aliens,
he’s hibernated in hugs of cool activists, degraded and favoring fleshes:
A prisoner of the sleeplessnesses in millennial tombs, tethered n’ tied
to forgotten vengeances, roaring silenced redemptions for faults of
generalities, slashing, swording, pulling hanged knaves to guillotines,
humanized and modernized acts of man in black bags, waving black flags—
Brogues on tramplines with pieces of brains, wricks on sweet punches
temporarily replaced, enduring uselessness til’ personal ends are nigh;

- The Nameless Monster

Artwork: From Naoki Urasawa’s ”MONSTER