#* thread

[ulyflynn]

closed for: @edietello

where: aiden's house, nora and aiden's birthday party

"Move." Uly practically barked at two partygoers who were trying to take a selfie in the hallway he was making his way down, leaving both Nora and the bathroom they had occupied in his rearview as he sought out another drink.

The pair parted for him easily and he pushed passed with a deliberate shove, inhaling through his nose sharply to counteract the irksome tickle in his nostrils that usually indicated to him that he should lay off the lines for the rest of the night.

He wastes no time to take the bottle of Belvedere he sees left unoccupied by the neck and pour himself a measure into a red solo cup that appeared clean enough, glancing to his side as he catches sight of blonde in his peripheral with a face that made him double take.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

[babyitsmagic]

@shxfting

"at the risk of acknowledging how fucked up my childhood actually was... can we do something, i dunno, fucking normal this weekend? i don't think i've been to a movie theater since i was like... seven? maybe eight?"

[romanrhodes]

where: Kismet Harbour Bank, Downtown with: Andrew Jackson ( @drewxjackson )

It was such a boring errand, which had turned into a bit of a situation. Roman just wanted to drop off the diner cash earnings, but somehow they'd miscounted and he'd ended up having to go upstairs to do paperwork, which was tedious and frustrating to have his day knocked off kilter. He didn't realise how much worse it could get when an arm reached out to stop the elevator from closing and it was Andrew.

Roman could only stare, wide-eyed. He hadn't seen him since the break-up. That had been almost two months ago, and yet the sight of Andrew had his heart hammering in a way, you'd think it had only been a few weeks ago. He didn't know what to say, but he managed to say a quiet, gruff greeting before falling silent.

[mihovil]

“You need to go. You need to go. You need to GO, MICHAEL! LEAVE ME BE! Never come back here.”

The words still haunted him. How Belial's voice was laced with every emotion; of anger, hatred, brokenness. All of it had been because of Michael. His visit had opened up wounds that had not fully healed, pulled the demon, and himself, into a descent into madness that could not be stopped in the moment, not until the cloud of red mist had cleared and they were left breathless and panting against each other. With legs trembling, Michael had clawed his way out of Hell and hid upon the mortal plane for days, wracked with guilt and shame. Not over his actions and transgressions, but for the hurt he had caused Belial, and that given the choice, he would take his wrath again.

Finally, he had returned to Heaven, a deafening silence from his Father creating a cavern of anxiety as he awaited a punishment that never came. Either God had chosen to ignore his folly to the pits of Hell, or his eyes were solely on his Creations below. Even so, Michael had stayed in the outer wings of the palace, spending most of his days sat upon the sill within his room, his every waking thought scratched onto scrolls and scrolls of parchment.

"You will have to leave your room at some point. You have duties you are neglecting." The soft voice of the eldest of the Archangels filled the room, Raphael inviting himself in. Upon his return, his brother had not questioned his absence, nor the way his face looked gaunt and hollow. He allowed Michael to lock himself away for months, knowing better than to ask what had happened the night he threw himself to Abriymoch. Instead, allowing him solace that was difficult to find in Heaven at times.

"I do not need a lecture, Raph. The world is not burning from Hellfire. I am not needed." Golden hues looked back down at his scroll, away from the unreadable gaze of the other. The eldest of them had always been able to mask his thoughts, yet with an ability to read the three younger angels without much thought, especially Michael. Approaching, a small yellowed note was dumped into his lap, the edges darkened and the unmistakable black seal made the angel still in shock.

"Where did you get this?" Fingers ran over the wax, a sigil that had been etched into his mind since that fateful night, something he thought he would not see again. Finally looking up at Raphael, he felt the tender, comforting hand cup his cheek as the other sighed. "I'm giving you that despite my better judgment. Don't either of you make me regret it."

--

Unlike the last time, Michael did not let any of his brothers know of his leaving, nor his whereabouts. They could have gotten away with covering for him once, but he would not burden them with his betrayals once more. He'd jumped near the privacy of his and his Valkyries' stables, Pegasus' braying loud enough to cover the powered rush of wings as Michael took flight. Belial's cryptic words had been clear to him, a letter only he would understand. Unlike the last time they were face to face, they would be on neutral soil, a now sparse landscape that had once been the pinnacle of God's beauty upon the Earth. Eden was no more, destroyed in a wrathful rage. In its place, a large tent stood, standing out in the desolate wasteland.

Michael landed with a gentle flap of large feathered wings, letting the sand settle around him. For a few moments, he could not bring himself to move, staring at the clothed doorway that fluttered gently with the night breeze. Nerves would not be calmed, hands balling to fists repetitively as he tried to compose himself. Belial would have already known of his arrival, waiting and wondering why the angel had traveled all this way to not even enter the tent. As wings folded back against his blades, he reached for the curtain and stepped inside, heart thudding against his chest as his eyes met and fell upon the demon that had occupied his thoughts for months.

"I do not want to fight with you again, Belial."

[solaadisa]

closed @fiaxsousa

Sola was doing that awkward party thing where you end up in a circle full of strangers after hopelessly losing your friends to the crowd, making small talk and trying not to seem like an awkward loner in the corner. Well, she didn't know if that was a universal experience, but it happened to her kind of a lot, so she decided that it was. She was nodding along politely as a guy describe his finance job to her when someone came into her periphery, standing next to her at the high top. She looked over to give them a small accommodating smile, then did a small double take when she vaguely recognized the woman next to her. "Hey, wait," she said to the newcomer, deciding to completely ignore the finance bro on her other side. "Do I know you from somewhere?" She looked up at the ceiling, wracking her brain. "Oh shit, I follow you on Instagram! You run MELO, right?"

[laureljacobs]

closed: @benj-hyun

location: the venue's bar

Laurel floated on the periphery of the crowd, her ostentatious, feathery black mask and stilettos giving her at least four inches of lift. Her dress, a long, strapless Jason Wu gown, kept hitting people as she went by because of how it jutted out at the hips and only got wider until the hem, leading to Laurel grumbling and pushing her way through the crowd, just trying to get back to the bar, as she muttered half-hearted sorries under her breath.

When she finally reached the bar, she fell onto it and groaned loudly, the multiple drinks in her system making her give less of a shit what anyone thought of her than she usually did. "Bourbon, rocks," she said succinctly to the bartender. "And..." she grabbed the poor, unassuming guy beside her by the elbow then pointing up at him. "Whatever this dude wants, too."

[notbirdnorplane]

- - closed starter for @modeinthemiddle // Clark Kent - -

Clark hadn't been sure he'd heard Perry right. He wanted him to go where? Japan...of course. It didn't matter that Clark had barely begun to understand the difference between katakana and hiragana; The Daily Planet needed feet on the ground, running the beat for the "concerned American citizens" who were troubled by the war there and the recent loss of their own No.1 Hero.

As much as he protested and tried to turn down the job, he had the least seniority. It would suck to be so far away from his friends and family, especially since he just started planting roots in Metropolis. But...a job was a job. Perhaps if he did this, he could become an international rep for The Daily Planet and do reports around the globe.

Clark sighed as he stepped out from his hotel, dressed spiffily in black tie. While his tie was a bowtie, it still fit the dress code to the gala. That, paired with his bulky glasses, in modern slang, would be called 'dorky chic'. A car ride later, and he was a towering lighthouse in a sea of finely-dressed goers to the Mode Gala.

"It'd help if Perry told me who I was supposed to be meeting," he mumbled to himself, scanning for someone who looked like they might be associated with the company.

[beyzaxalpman]

closed starter for @emrexediz location: their apartment building (past thread)

Since their kiss, it had been a few days since she heard from Emre. At first, Beyza thought maybe he was busy with work. She knew he was working on something and she was trying to be mindful when he didn't respond to her texts or answer her calls. As the days progressed, though, she started letting her anxieties get to her. Did she do something wrong? Was the kiss that bad? Did he meet someone better? She was letting it all play her head and she just kept getting upset. So when she saw him in the entryway of their apartment building, she tensed and forced herself to walk by like she didn't even see him, but made her footsteps loud so he would notice her.

[walkingshcdow]

@storyandscng | Anna and the Good Omens duo

Someone had once given Anna the impression that rent across the pond was cheaper. They might have said "healthcare" or "public transit" or something else entirely. What they said and what Anna's impression was were totally separate things. As it was, she was renting a room on this cute, little street in London. Her proprietor sold instruments, so he didn't mind her singing half as much as her roommates (or, as people here called them, flatmates) back in New York had. There was a cute coffee shop down the way called Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death, which, honestly, sounded reasonable. There was also a lovely bookstore that seldom seemed to be open run by the kind of man who looked like someone's very gay medieval literature professor. Parked along the street, just out of sight from the bookshop, was a Bentley.

Look. Anna didn't know a lot about cars. She grew up in New York City. Cars were as mystical to her as dragons were to other people. She was fascinated by its shiny, black finish that gleamed despite it being parked in the street. She daydreamed about riding in such a nice car, preferably through the countryside with the windows down and a breeze blowing through her hair. It looked like a car utterly at odds with her musical theatre training and she wondered what kind of music played in it and what kind of man (it was probably a man who owned it, right?) owned it. Santiago would have loved it. He might even have been willing to trade his motorcycle for a Bentley. She took a picture of the car once to send to him. He'd responded hours later with more excitement about the car than he responded about most anything. She didn't know how it was that he didn't notice as she most certainly did that there was a redheaded man in sunglasses, sleeping crampedly in the driver's seat. She assumed he had just drank too much at Justine's restaurant the night previous and didn't dare drive home. But this morning she saw him resting again. She didn't have a lot in this world - teaching voice in SoHo only made so much money - but she had enough to buy him an extra coffee and a scone from the coffee shop.

And, look, she didn't want to be rude and wake him, but men didn't scare Anna anymore. Maybe before she'd worked in an illegal detective agency for a werewolf, she would have had one hand on her pepper spray. Probably not, though. She didn't have enough hands for coffee, scones, knocking on the window, and pepper spray, after all.

She rapped her knuckles gently on the window.

"Hi? Sir? I hope you don't mind - I brought you a coffee and breakfast, I live down the way and I've seen you out here and- it doesn't matter. I didn't know what you liked so I got one with milk and sugar and one without. I mean, you look like a 'black coffee only' type of guy, but who am I to judge?"

In truth, now that she could see him better, he really did dress like Santiago: head to toe in black and the kind of face that looked made for brooding. She swallowed the homesickness and smiled, holding out her offerings and waiting for this to go about as well as giving a box of takeout to a panhandler back home.

Or worse. Because, you know, everyone said she'd be paying less rent or making more money or something by chasing her dreams here and London had been distinctly unremarkable thus far.

[sweatforged]

@bornatnightt

silence  predominated  on  the  way  back  from  the  cave.  despite  his  new  armor,  silas  was  pretty  banged  up,  jay  ...  looked  even  worse  for  wear.  he  wasn't  sure  how  much  more  the  son  of  nyx  could've  taken  before  he,  too,  was  brought  to  his  knees.  he'd  not  seen  that  before,  not  on  the  battlefield  at  least  &  he  would  rather  keep  it  like  that.

  but  he'd  seen  the  strain  on  the  other's  face,  had  seen  sweat  pool  on  a  forehead  that  belonged  against  his  &  had  felt  panic  take  root  within  him.  the  fights  they  were  faced  with  were...  challenging,  even  to  him  -  even  to  someone  like  him  who  was  used  to  ...well,  fighting.  they  were  fast,  they  were  relentless,  they  were  brutal  &  this  one  had  claimed  a  sacrifice.

  it  was...  they'd  failed.  had  they  defeated  their  foe?  yes,  they  did.  but  they  failed  regardless.  they  failed  sethan,  they  failed  camp,  they  ...  failed  each  other.  shouldn't  their  top  priority  be  each  other?  how  were  they  supposed  to  fight  these  fights  if  they  couldn't  rely  on  each  other?  if  they  couldn't  ...  if  they  didn't  watch  each  other's  backs...?

  of  which  he,  too,  was  guilty.  he  failed.  now  he  had  to  live  with  that  guilt.  to  claim  he'd  rather  it'd  been  him  would  be  foolish,  it  wouldn't  change  the  lesson.  anybody  who  died  ...  was  a  mistake.  it  didn't  matter  who  they  lost,  or  when  they  did.  he  shouldn't  have  died.  they  should've  found  a  way  to  save  him.  they  should've  been  better-prepared.

  they  should've  done.....  something. 

  if  he  knew,  they  wouldn't  be  in  this  mess.

  silas  was  quiet  on  the  way  back  to  either  of  their  cabins,  trailing  after  jesse,  staying  close  but  ..leaving  him  room  for  thought.  he  was  ...thougthful  himself.  or  rather  lost  in  thought,  lost  in  doubts  once  more.  had  he  just  pulled  himself  back  up  recently,  he  felt  like...  he  was  drowning  again.  he  didn't  dare  ask,  nor  did  he  mean  to  demand,  but  silas  ...  didn't  want  to  be  alone  tonight.

  "you  uh..."

  he  felt  silly  asking,  felt  silly  needing  to  ask,  like  he  was  hoping  for  a  favor  when  he  was  definitely  old  enough  to  sleep  on  his  own,  but  he  was  ..in  pain  &  he  knew  jesse  had  to  be,  too.  he  didn't  want  either  of  them  to  be  alone.

  "can  i  ....stay  with  you?"

  just  tonight,  just  until  he  made  sure  jay  was  in  bed,  alive  ...safe  &  sound.  just  until  he  could  hear  his  heart  beat  against  his  ear,  until  he  could  ensure  that  when  he  woke  ...  he'd  still  be  there.

  "s'fine  if  you  wanna  be  'lone.  's  late  anyway."  maybe  he  shouldn't,  maybe  he  shouldn't  push  himself  in,  maybe  he  should  keep  distance  between  them  -  just  ...  because. why  was  he  like  this? why  did,  whenever  he  spoke  up  for  himself,  doubt  creep  up  on  him? would  this  ever  end?  would  he  ever  not  feel  like  a  bother?

[luckylewis]

closed for: @lorelailewis

when + where: april 3rd + liam lewis' house

"Oh," Lucky looks at her with some mild surprise, random blondes in his father's kitchen was never much of a shock to see but he was usually given a heads up when it was his twin roaming the place. It's not a wholly unpleasant surprise -- Lori's mood dependent -- and he remembers what he wanted to catch up with her with any way as he retrieved a Coke from the fridge.

"Saves me a text actually," He says over the sound of the lid cracking as he opens it, the carbonated bubbles fizzing when air met the liquid inside. "Have you planned anything for Mac's birthday on Saturday? Cause if you have, cancel it. I'm taking her out."

[wontgodowninhistory]

🌈 @araneorum asked: sent ⑁ to sit on my muses lap / jamie ! // still accepting this meme

robin groaned as jamie plopped herself right down on her lap. they both knew that she loved it but not when she was busy doing important work in keith’s office. “jamie. Inventory.” she gestured to the mess of paperwork in front of her - data for family videos upcoming audit. work that even the manager hated so much that he left it to her. it was probably better that way, everyone knew that robin was the brains in this operation. she excelled at these kinds of tasks while keith was better at doing - whatever it was that he did all day. standing behind the counter doing nothing, scaring ladies off at record-breaking speed, making sure that no one stole things with his hawke eyes. even as she complained, she still wrapped one arm around jamie to pull her closer with her free arm. she scribbled down calculations with the other hand. “how many women did keith scare off? is it more or less than harrington today?” they both were so exceptionally bad at just speaking to women that it was an ongoing battle. “they both need their own scoreboards.” she joked in reference to the one she’d kept right behind the counter at scoops ahoy when she’d worked with steve. a few numbers were erased and rewritten. robin would go over all of her calculations again when she was finished. twice. everything had to be done twice. it was a 'die hard buckley rule.' it didn’t matter who completed the task, if it wasn’t done precisely twice she would never get any rest. failure to do so was almost like a physical pain to her.

[xaviermattthews]

closed for: @vanessagable

where: her place, seabrook

After opting not to use his key to Van's place -- not because he thought he couldn't, but rather he didn't want to invade her space if she still needed some -- X found himself experiencing some mild dread as he seated himself on her couch and waited for her to join him. Sleep had eluded him for the most part after he left Sharky's, a racing mind keeping him awake as the night hours slipped into morning as he allowed himsef to overthink to oblivion.

( His perpetual downfall. )

He's never invested himself enough in a relationship to care to have conversations like the one he thinks they need to have, raised voices and quick ends were always more comfortable to him than vulnerability, but for her he would try.

"I don't know what happened last night." He admits, his reaction motivating his statement as much as her reaction to her ex-husbands post did.

[romanrhodes]

where: Rhodes Farm, Maple Hills with: Andrew Jackson ( @drewxjackson )

It had been a long shift, but a good one. His staff had been on top form, any slips up had been dealt with quickly and easily, and no customer left unhappy. He drove home feeling tired but fulfilled, excited to get back to his home, for a hot shower and to cuddle up in bed with his boyfriend. As he drove up the road and parked up at the house, he noticed Andrew's truck facing the other way... which was strange, but nothing too bizarre. He continued his walk into the house.

"Peach?" He called out as he stepped into the house, pulling off his coat and undoing his chef's white jacket. He stepped into the kitchen, where the only light was on, and Andrew was sat at the table... fully dressed. It looked... weird. Odd. Roman got a strange, unsettled feeling in his stomach. "Hey... You're up." He said. It was past 11pm, it was late. Why was Andrew not in bed? "What's going on?"

[salty-pupcake]

74 thread because I'm a weirdo!!

This was a Twitter thread I've been working on because uh uhhhh

Uhhhhhhhh

Idk, I just love 74 and it deserves one. It's basically a collection of screencaps, manga panels, clips and other things.

Stuff is still being added overtime when I find something heh.

(Don't let the first clips deceive you, there's regular 74 too)

Uh

Enjoy, ig. Bookmark it, contribute, take a look, idc.

[taitropa]

She doesn’t need ceremony to drop the paper on his desk but she considers it. He is hard at work counting numbers and filing reports and checking his ledgers and she should be scouting in the Financial District because the lead he gave her yesterday was too good not to investigate even when she is due for a break. But leave it to Kaz to disrupt the disruption to her supposed week off from hunting pirates. When did she get so complacent?

“Explain this to me,” demands Inej. She doesn’t drop the dailies into his lap but she does wave them under his nose. It’s ineffective in getting his attention except that she knows she had it the minute she’d slipped in through the unlocked window. Inej has the paper folded in half. It doesn’t obscure the headline, big and screaming as it is. MURDERED MERCHANT AT THE MARKET! The details won’t–and can’t–do any justice to the crime scene itself. Ketterdam pretends at proper but this is its supposed finest dragged into broad daylight to bleed out. Inej catches Kaz’s smirk.

“You had no right.” Now she does drop the paper. It disturbs his paperwork, sending sheets flying. Kaz’s temper too. She beats him to it, seething at him, “No. You don’t get to snap at me today. Not today, Kaz Brekker. Explain this to me. What were you thinking?”

🔪 @kraaiking