#( &. 002. )

[koffeebean]

hello warframe fandom

[obligatorial]

[ No, ] she said, and she repeated it, shoving her hands into her blankets as if to push something away. They were gradually pushed off and hit the floor with a dull thump. Harmony whimpered, shivering — from the cold as much as the subject of her nightmare. It was an old but frequent one for the twenty - year - old.

[ No, ] Harmony pleaded. The crack in her voice suggested that her efforts were in vain ( and perhaps had been beyond the realm of her dreams, as well ).

[ no, Mr. Eagan. ]

With that, she seemed to wake. Enough, at least, to sweep her pretty blue eyes blearily around her dark room. ❝Gavin,❞ she uttered, soft and needing. Harmony sniffed and rubbed at her tear - stained cheeks. // @thisiamowed

Gavin woke as soon as his name was spoken, shifting from his slumped position on the chair and immediately landing on the shape of the girl on her bed.

"Darling."

His voice was rough, scratchy from sleep, but the way he rose from his seat was as swift as it was smooth. The small sliver of moonlight that made it through the curtains was enough to help him see the blankets on the floor, but Gavin forewent them in favour of approaching Harmony's bed instead.

She's crying. Instantly, Gavin had to bite back the urge to smile at how badly she needed him to make it better.

"Hey," he murmured, settling at the edge of the mattress and reaching out with one hand. Gavin's knuckles brushed tenderly over her temple.

"Hey, Harmony... won't you come to me?"

And should she rise to the occasion, his arms would spread wide in offering before closing around her. Gavin was born for this, after all-- to hold her, and hide her, and keep her from everything in the world.

[lambsmarrow]

@thisiamowed, unprompted.

Harmony set her tray down on the bedside table before she sat gingerly on the bed. Her hand cupped the side of her lover's face, thumb stroking his cheek. As much as she hated to wake him up, she knew he would need the array of orange bottles she had brought with her. They were arranged neatly beside a simple meal ( plain eggs and buttered toast, easy on the stomach ). Each bore Harmony's notes, which were taped next to the long labels bearing ominous warnings.

❝There you are,❞ she said, unable to hide the bit of relief in her voice. The days that followed his chemotherapy were always so hard ; luckily, they were past the worst of the isolation and gloves this period. Harmony smiled, eyes glittering in the sunlight. ❝Your cheerleader has already been up and back down again.❞ She referred to, of course, their baby boy.

Harmony leaned over Toller, lips pressing against his brow. ❝Is it selfish of me to say I'm glad he was easy this morning ? I get you all to myself.❞ Her laugh was abrupt and too loud, but it was genuinely hers.

The first time he'd awoken to Harmony by his side following treatment, Toller had wept for a long, long time. He did not sob-- the Lord had at least granted him that dignity-- but in the overwhelm of his fogged brain and weak muscles, knowing that someone was present to love him had been so overwhelming all he could do was cry. And because he could not stand, the wet stain on his pillowcase had been unavoidable.

Today, Harmony's kiss only made him smile, even if the nausea threatened to ruin it all. It felt so good to hear her laugh.

Voice rough with fatigue, Toller leaned into Harmony's touch. "Perhaps Isaac planned for it to happen that way."

He rose slowly, leaning back against the headboard of their bed, and exhaled against the dizziness that threatened to swallow him. The hardest part of his day was rising from sleep-- once he did that, everything else would be easy.

"I missed my alarm again," he murmured as he faced her, and it was not a question.

For years Toller hadn't required one, but cancer treatment made it so that his emergency alarms went off without his notice. Harmony was the only reason he was healing at all, he was sure, and he tried not to feel shame for it. To feel sorry that he was so helpless.

Instead, he asked, "Have you eaten already?"

[grabracadabra]

@longsounded | "Mister, uh..." Jonny trailed off, unsure of what to call the man as he stood in the doorway. His lower lip quivered as he attempted to speak, but the words failed him. Jonny had never been more petrified before in his life, and yet, he just wanted to know if his trumpet was safe.

Though, try as he might, nothing further was able to fall from his lips aside from a gentle, "Never mind. I'm sorry."

"Oh!" He laughed, bright and well-meaning. "Please."

There the Grabber stood, his mask on in full-- his smile was as wide as ever. The fingers on the door's handle remained in place, but his eyes were facing the boy on the ratty old mattress now.

It wasn't very often that he took a Nice Boy home, if at all. Their curiosity, however, was decidedly more important than any old tradition. Was he really nice? Was he just as kind as Albert thought he was, or just a gifted liar?

"You have a question, don't you?" The Grabber's head cocked ever so slightly to the side. "You can always ask. Especially since you already started to."

[disneybucks]

@general-kalani // from here.

Oh, shit.

"You what?" What in the hell would get anyone undercover in here? Wade's first instinct is to look around and gauge who it is Amos is trying to watch, but considering he hasn't heard any movement behind them yet-- no panicking, no attempts to flee-- he suspects no-one's especially paranoid of them.

So, without Amos' permission, he slides into the booth like he was always meant to be here.

"You're joking," he says lowly, setting his beer on the table. The smile on his face doesn't reach his eyes-- to anyone watching from afar, it'd look like they were two old friends, even if Wade is deathly aware of how serious the situation is. "Why the fuck do you still do undercover work? Isn't that what goons like me are for?"

[ahealinghand]

OF COURSE, HOW DEVILISH, he thinks, that Miranda has a waiting list. It was as if he'd found out new ways she turned the profession into something DIABOLICAL every day. The nature of healing was powered by the unconditional mandate that you help whenever, however, whoever. But these patients were not just people who needed their help to feel better; they needed his help to be freed from the Miracle Doctor's trance. Urgency is something rarely in her vocabulary, it seemed.

Urgency drove Michael to grab the hand of one of her subordinates, moving past them and into the Doctor's makeshift quarters. Michael knew she wouldn't have a problem with his arrival, if she saw him dealing with her security, she would easily have let him go through. That's the special nature of them. Brushing past the drapes, Michael slams his hand on Miranda's desk, knowing full well it'd startle her. "You cannot keep this up," he says, short of breath. "You cannot. This is not what we are meant for. This — " he motions to the makeshift lecture, "Is not medicine. This is...poison, and we both know it."

@inflnsia.

[v3rsi]

[kimsuyeon]

NINGNING Bored! (250316)

[donghyucktual]

[cordelia-stclaire]

·⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝟎𝟎𝟐. murder case. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀red circle bar ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Eric Northman

⠀⠀⠀En las sombrías calles de la ciudad se encontraba Cordelia, una mujer cuya soberbia y misterio eran casi palpables en su aura. Vestida con elegancia y rodeada de un aire de enigma, se dirigió con pasos decididos hacia Red Circle, un bar que la noche anterior había sido escenario de un misterioso asesinato. Como editora en jefe del periódico local, SHH Times, Cordelia tenía la intención de crear un artículo que capturara la esencia del incidente y arrojara luz sobre los oscuros acontecimientos.

⠀⠀⠀A pesar de la naturaleza reservada de Cordelia, su curiosidad y pasión por desentrañar enigmas la habían llevado hasta este punto. La brisa llevaba consigo un aura de suspenso, y las hojas caídas crujían bajo sus pies mientras se acercaba al oscuro edificio. La fachada del bar presentaba un aspecto descuidado, con las ventanas opacas y la pintura desgastada, como si el lugar mismo quisiera mantener sus secretos ocultos en su interior. Sin embargo, Cordelia no parecía intimidada por la atmósfera siniestra que rodeaba el lugar.

⠀⠀⠀Cordelia cruzó la entrada con la confianza de quien sabe que tiene un propósito definido. El ambiente estaba cargado de tensión, como si los muros mismos guardaran los secretos del pasado. Los murmullos cesaron momentáneamente al notar su presencia, pero pronto volvieron a sus conversaciones, incapaces de ignorar la enigmática figura que desentonaba un poco en el lugar. Acomodándose en uno de los taburetes, miró alrededor, tomando nota de cada detalle, cada rincón oscuro que parecía ocultar secretos inconfesables.

⠀⠀⠀Con una pluma y un pequeño bloc de notas en mano, Cordelia comenzó a escribir, cautivando la esencia del lugar en palabras meticulosamente escogidas. Mientras Cordelia se sumergía en sus pensamientos, un hombre de apariencia seria apareció detrás de la barra mientras limpiaba un vaso. Era uno de los empleados del bar y, tras reconocer la existencia de Cordelia, asintió cortésmente. —¿Puedo ayudarla en algo?—, preguntó con voz suave pero firme.

⠀⠀⠀Cordelia levantó la vista de su libreta y sonrió con elegancia. —Sí, estoy buscando al dueño de este establecimiento.—Respondió y notó que había una expresión inquieta en sus ojos, como si llevara consigo alguna especie de peso inexplicable. Y sin más, el empleado se retiró hacia la parte trasera del bar, dejando a Cordelia sola con sus pensamientos. Mientras esperaba, Cordelia continuó tomando notas y observando detenidamente su entorno. La atmósfera cargada de secretos y la promesa de respuestas la mantenían intrigada, lista para desentrañar la verdad detrás del asesinato en Red Circle.

[mayandnala]

Não que isso fosse uma ocorrência rara, mas Nicholas estava de mau humor. Até mesmo coisas que geralmente não o incomodavam pareciam especialmente inconvenientes naquela noite, como as luzes estroboscópicas e a cacofonia de conversas paralelas que se entremeavam com a música alta. Em seu usual, estava habituado com esse tipo de ambiente caótico, mas dessa vez o jovem encontrava-se estranhamente irritadiço sem muita razão. Na verdade, se Nicholas conseguisse parar de mentir para si mesmo, seria capaz de identificar que existia, sim, motivo para estar se sentindo tão antagonista naquela noite em especial. O xis da questão tinha nome, sobrenome e estava atualmente do outro lado do bar, entretida em uma conversa que já durava detestáveis vinte minutos sem sequer dar sinais de interrupção. Ele e Beatrice haviam se desentendido de novo na noite anterior – o que também não era raro, dado que ambos eram imaturos e passionais demais para o próprio bem –, mas ainda assim Nicholas não conseguia fazer paz com o fato de que ela estava ali, se divertindo com outro ao invés de fazer como ele e alimentar desgosto com a situação. Detestava pensar em si mesmo como uma pessoa egoísta, mas aquela era para ser uma ocasião deles dois e agora Nicholas estava ali, tentando se distrair para dar a impressão de que não se importava, mas observando a garota com olhos semicerrados sempre que o magnetismo ficava forte demais para ignorar. Além de tudo, o outro cara era um completo idiota, extremamente inconveniente quando bebia, que Nicholas já conhecia de outros muitos carnavais. 

Debateu por vários instantes sobre o que poderia ser feito sem ferir o próprio orgulho ou sujar ainda mais sua imagem com Beatrice, mas por fim perdeu a batalha consigo mesmo e cruzou o bar em direção à garota e sua desagradável companhia. Impulsivo até o último fio de cabelo, sequer ensaiou o que diria quando finalmente a alcançasse. “Ei, posso falar com você um minuto?” Tinha os olhos fixos somente na imagem dela, sem poupar nem um mero olhar de desdém em direção ao outro. “Não aqui, não consigo ouvir nem meus próprios pensamentos com essa barulheira.” 

[lifefcrged]

@rubiesintherough​​ sent a meme / victor

“ don’t get in my way. ”

                   “I think you might have that the wrong way ‘round, honestly.”  She didn’t know who he was, what he was - what he wanted with the young mutant that was now cowering behind the exam table, and the truth was, it didn’t matter any to her one bit.  The image that she presented might not be one that struck fear in the hearts of men, with her stethoscope slung around her neck, her white lab coat and her black slacks and cheery blue button down shirt, all of a hundred and twenty five pounds soaking wet -- sure she might have some height to her advantage, but no real muscles to speak of, at least not that you’d think, to see her -- but be that as it may, she was standing her ground between him, and the teen.   “You would do well to leave now, before this turns into a mess --”  

     She paused briefly, glancing to the door that was almost off its hinges, slightly askew in the hallway.  “More of a mess.”  Delicate fingers twitched where they rested at her side, the only outward display of agitation.  Anger, actually.  “This is a place where those in need come for help, and since I’m guessing you’re not here for a Band-Aid and lollipop?”  Mickey could only assume he was the one that had caused the injuries she’d been in the process of assessing when he had burst into the after hours clinic office.    “You’re not welcome here.”

[chaiwrote]

* verses for dahlia crane.

stranger things verse : details can be found here.

dc verse : basically, a lot of the main lore attached and adapted into this setting. dahlia's an embodiment of death gone rogue. as a vigilante, she exacts her own form of justice, killing whoever she feels has wronged her or needs to be removed from the world. this is borne from the tragic injustice she faces when her best friend is murdered and the justice system fails her, incriminating the wrong person. with her morality growing skewed, she is often classified as a rogue.

[gaydogdotcom]

cheeeeeeeese

[kimsuyeon]

doll

[donghyucktual]

♡〰♡