#file: threads

[antipersonal]

✱ @belcvas asked:

» "you were never going to do anything i said."

❱ [ 'this is the last straw' prompts ] ❰

John stared out the jet's window, jaw clenched tight enough to make his head throb. The hum of the engines was steady, almost soothing, but nowhere near enough to ease the tension bleeding off his shoulders.

"I was listening," he said finally, voice low, not quite meeting her accusatory gaze. "I just didn't think every move needed a damn play-by-play."

It came out rougher than he meant. He ran a hand over his face with a wince, fingers dragging over the edge of a bruise he hadn't bothered to ice. This wasn't how he wanted their first duo mission to go. He trusted her more than anyone else on the roster, if he was being honest. But the way she'd rattled off instructions over the comms --clipped, surgical-- had gotten under his skin. Not because she was wrong (she never was) but because it felt like she didn't trust him to get it right.

(Still, he hadn't followed orders. And that wasn't like him, at least not with her. John decided he had too much on his plate to unpack that.)

He glanced at her across the cabin, where she sat poised with the same steady stillness she always had after a mission-- unreadable, but quieter than usual. With them both seated, he didn't have to crane his neck down to see her face. It twisted something low in his chest.

"I wasn't trying to undermine you, I just thought--" He cut himself off with a humorless laugh, arms crossing. "I don't know what I thought. Whatever. Guess I fucked that one up."

[antipersonal]

"You're a terrible patient," John muttered, too distracted to put any bite behind it. He was out of his depth, both with first aid (Lemar had complained even more than Yelena about his shitty stitches, when the medics were short staffed) and with his bedside manner. "And you're not drinking, unless you like rubbing alcohol."

All he could do for her now was press the gauze down hard enough to slow the steady bleed. It wasn't the feverish gushing of an artery --thank Christ-- but it also wasn't slowing down, and the way it was beginning to seep through the layers set his teeth on edge.

At least it was just a deep slice. He wasn't sure he could've handled digging a bullet out of her bicep. And if it had veered any farther right--

John bit down on his tongue until he tasted copper. And what, he thought venemously, shoving something unthinkable to the back of his mind. And nothing. Focus.

He tied the bandage, clumsy but firm, and tucked the edges in. Good enough.

Yelena looked pale-- shivering, too, despite the temperature. Tired and small in a way that made John feel suddenly like he was seeing something he shouldn't, something terrible. Reading a page from a diary someone had thrown away. It turned his stomach.

"Woulda figured you were better around blood," he offered after a beat, voice low and unsure. His hand stayed on her shoulder like a vice. "You're, uh-- you look dizzy."

⸻ ɪɴᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ ᴄᴏᴍᴍ ꜰʀᴏᴍ @antipersonal:

🩹

⸻ Send  🩹  to  patch  my  muse  up  after  a  fight.

Stupid. She'd been stupid. Or reckless. Or both, if she was being honest, but Yelena wasn't quite there yet. She sucked in a breath through her teeth, keeping her eyes pinned on something over John’s shoulder as he wound the gauze tighter around her bicep.

"I know you've got super strength or whatever, but you could try being gentler, you know," Yelena hissed, hand flexing on her knee.

Somewhere between John hauling her to safety and now, she had managed to peel her tattered widow suit down to her hips so she could inspect the damage. It could have been worse; the bullet had grazed her arm instead of landing squarely in her chest, something she owed to John pulling her clear just in time.

This was becoming a theme for Yelena. He’s gotten her out when the mission skewed south, no questions asked. Like having her back was a given. And here he was, cleaning her up, hands disarmingly warm and steady on her skin, while she sulked and shivered in her tank top and tried not to meet his eye.

Yelena pushed her sweaty hair back with her free hand. Her arm fucking stung, and she wasn’t sure if the room was spinning or if her vision had just gotten blurry. Not great either way. Shit, she was losing her edge.

“You are a terrible nurse.” Yelena mumbled. It was halfhearted and childish, but the barb felt easier than translating whatever the fuck was going on in her head. “I need a drink.”

[hoshizoralone]

[xiewho]

could i get a fabian pretty pls… possessed would be cool but anything with him is fine

based on that one fake bad kids twt thread that i Cannot find for the life of me

[antipersonal]

"Man, déjà vu," John quipped, hand lingering just a second longer than it needed to. "Didn't I just drag your ass out of an elevator sans arm a few months ago? At least this time Bob didn't chuck it across the room like a lawn dart, right?"

He let the joke hang there, even cracked a lopsided grin, but his eyes were scanning Bucky's face intently, tracking the blood trail down his temple like a hawk. It wasn't funny. Not really. But if he didn't keep the sarcasm up, the tight feeling in his chest might crack a rib.

His brain filled in the gaps anyway-- metal crunching, that sickening tearing sound, the dead weight of Bucky hitting concrete. Above it all, gold eyes idly glancing away like he'd already decided John didn't matter.

"Just say something if you're gonna pass out," he muttered. "And try not to throw up on me. It's two more lefts then a right."

Still, he hovered. Close enough to catch him. Far enough away to pretend it didn't feel good-- being needed, even just for a minute.

@antipersonal asked: [ DIRECT ] (for Bucky !)

A LIST OF CASUAL YET INTIMATE INTERACTIONS | Accepting [ DIRECT ] sender seeing that receiver is going the wrong way, takes hold of their shoulders from behind and turns them the right direction

Bucky's carrying his arm as he leads him and Walker through the maze of the enemy's hideout. Bucky had hit his head, so he had that as well as the blood trailing down his face and into his face working against him. He goes to take a left after saying for them to go right. He blinks a bit when he feels hands on his shoulders from behind, turning him in the right direction. His ears heat up in embarrassment a bit. He should know where he is going, he studied the layout of the place and knew it like the back of his hand.

"Thanks Walker." He mutters, finally reattaching his own arm as they step to the right of the maze-like hallways. He rests against the wall, breathing heavily and head pounding. He feels like he needs to throw up, that's how bad his head hurts. "Do you remember the rest of the way out?"

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

putting fabric through the printer still feels illegal every time i do it. but! nothing jammed so another success :)

my plan for my Lucanis design was always to do it large scale—this will be for an 8inch display hoop. The little 3.5-inch hoop I finished in January will be my color guide for this one, and I’ll be using the same assortment of silk, cotton, metallic, sparkly, and hand-dyed threads to get the final look :) it should look a lot neater at bigger scale too (and with more care/precision than I spent on the small one lol).

[antipersonal]

✱ @rot3rstern asked:

» "The floor loves you today. How many times will you kiss it?"

❱ [ 'sparring sessions with a dash of tension' ] ❰

John groaned from the mat, one arm thrown over his flushed face like it might preserve a shred of dignity. "The floor and I are going steady, thanks. Might ask it to dinner next."

He pushed himself up with a hiss, taken aback by how much his body flared in protest-- Bucky's arm wasn't for show, it hit like a damn wrecking ball. Forty pounds directly to the ribs didn't feel great, it turned out. He tried to ignore the wheeze creeping into his breath.

"You're really, hah, showing off today, huh?" he managed, circling Bucky with a wary roll of his shoulders and shaking his head like a dog to clear it. The motion only plastered his sweaty hair to his brow, and he gritted his teeth in something that resembled a grin.

"You sure you're not going extra hard 'cause I stole that fancy yoghurt with your name on it? 'Cause if so, I actually took two."

John scanned Bucky as he teased, eyes narrowing as he took in the lack of bruises. Not even a split lip. Jesus. It made something unpleasant crawl in his chest. Walker might hit hard, but Bucky didn't seem to get hit at all-- and there was no serum trick to that. Just skill.

[darkdragon768]

Looking up the different routes on the deltarune wiki and... yeeaa I would have never discovered the snowgrave route on my own.

[embcrspark]

#𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐂𝐑𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊  —  a  headcanon-based  interpretation  of  teen  wolf's  𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒  𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐊𝐈-𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐄.  independent,  private  &  selective,  low  activity  rp-blog  originally  crafted  for  fakevz  that  operates  in  english  only.  established  2014,  crossover-friendly  with  several  verses  available.  please  read  the  rules  before  interacting.  hexed  by  𝒍𝒆𝒙𝒊,  25+,  she/her. ©  open  for  plotting! 

after  leaving  the  horrors  of  beacon  hills  behind,  stiles  built  a  new  life  in  new  york—far  from  the  supernatural  world  that  once  haunted  him.  as  a  rising  fbi  agent,  he  finally  felt  safe.  but  the  past  had  a  way  of  creeping  in:  unprocessed  grief,  loss,  and  guilt  followed  him  like  ghosts,  and,  in  their  wake,  something  else  sparked:  a  strange  power,  flickering  to  life  in  moments  of  raw  emotion.  at  first,  he  dismissed  it  as  stress,  an  overworked  mind  playing  tricks  on  him.  but  as  the  unexplainable  piled  up,  denial  became  impossible.  determined  to  uncover  the  truth,  stiles  set  out  on  a  quest  for  answers—one  that  would  unearth  long-buried  family  secrets  and  awaken  forces  better  left  undisturbed.

𝐀  𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘  𝐈𝐍:  questionable  morals,  loss  of  innocence,  rifted  reality,  the  aftermath  of  demonic  possession,  survivor's  guilt,  undying  loyalty,  unruly  magic  &  untamed  will

🖇️ highly  affiliated  with  @griefbitten  !

𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐃.  𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒.  𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒.  𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋.

[ladyofthebookcase]

i think limbus has a very real grind problem, honestly for most of the game, but it's pretty ignorable until you reach the end of canto 4. BECAUSE. at that point, you need to be consistently levelling into your thirties with each new stage that unlocks, but there's a problem with that: at this point in the game, the best option you have for exp luxcavation is a stage that gives you 4 III tickets per run, and once you get past like level 25, those 4 tickets are maybe enough to raise one sinner by one level. so, let's do the math here! that's 40 enkephalin (2 modules) to get 1 sinner up 1 level, and at this point i at least have about 108 max enkephalin, which gives me a maximum of two (2) lux clears and that's if i don't want to play story at all in that gaming session. you don't unlock the next lux stage until you beat story stage 4-48, which is, you know, the stage you need to be levelling up for in the first place. while looking up what people have said on forums about how to beat spicebush dongbaek, i've seen a lot of "oh this stage isn't even hard, you're just underlevelled! if you have one overlevelled unit, like, level 40, that'll carry you through just fine! oh just get 1 unit uptied to tier 4!" and i need these people to understand that that is not reasonable to achieve. like this is ridiculous. the enkephalin system as a whole is pretty stupid-- why, as a game designer, would you deliberately make it so that the player has to spend less time actually playing your game?-- but in this case it really takes the cake. i don't think lux should cost enkephalin at all. it's already grind-y enough that people aren't going to abuse it unless they really need it, like with the situation i'm in; it costing enkephalin (and modules nonetheless, making it twice as expensive as one story stage) is just disincentivizing and discouraging to the player. i need you to listen to me. grips you. i'm going at this from a game design/player quality of life perspective here NOT a diagetic one. levelling in this game is utterly fucked and it's making it really frustrating to play at this point as someone who just wants to experience the story and have some fun. like, yes, a game should be available to casual players (AND NEW PLAYERS?? HELLO???), even if it's not directly tailored for them! hell, let me use lunacy to do lux! make it so you can buy enkephalin boxes with lunacy or something! this whole thing is so stupid. Good Night.

[loubetcha]

hi <3 like that wetwired post right now I am thinking about s6 angst and how it wasn’t really about Diana, not really, but about every lie Mulder has ever told her and Scully’s greatest fears. We know that Scully fears that Mulder will choose his quest over her; Wetwired tells us that her greatest fear is him allying himself with the people who were responsible for her abduction and her sister’s death— that he is lying to her. And in one fell swoop, with his callousness, he manages to confirm all of these.

It’s only her faith in him that keeps them together. Agh.

OUCH????

but you’re so right it wasn’t about jealousy or neglect it was about that by putting his trust in someone else who was exceedingly untrustworthy, it ultimately felt like the trust they held so close was shattered. “sleeping with the enemy” so to speak doesn’t imply jealousy on those who see it, but betrayal.

[vaguely-concerned]

I don't know if I've ever mentioned this here btw but rye's name is just pronounced like y'know. the cereal. or the whiskey and rye them good old boys were drinking lol. in his full name it's 'ri' (Ellaryen as something like EL-ah-ri-en I think), but when he started to transition and dropped the childhood nickname he'd gone by until then (which was 'Ella'! rather unimaginatively lol renn was better at constructing arches than creative thinking) he shopped around for new ones and with some squashing and stretching to help things along he ended up with 'rye'. I don't know that many people would have called him by it -- he'd be 'watcher ingellvar' in most mourn watcher contexts and probably be referred to respectfully like that outside of the necropolis as well considering the standing of watchers in nevarran society -- but it's what his two closer childhood friends, max the terrible ex, and professor-mentor name pending would use, probably.

he embraces 'rook' pretty much immediately though. so it's like. me, and two childhood friends of him who'll ever call him rye dfhaj (max and professor-mentor are both dead. which, under the circumstances, may not stop them from talking to him but would make it a rarer occurrence probably)

[ethcl]

closed starter for @eirikhrafnkel!

Uma semana antes, Ethel estava nas nuvens, com um sorriso largo fixado de maneira permanente em seu rosto, quando retornou para um dormitório totalmente escuro. Essa observação isolada não teria grande impacto, não fosse pelo fato que a mulher havia deixado o ambiente iluminado por suas velas de Yule, suas tradicionais homenagens a Erianhood apagadas por completo em sua ausência. Há sete dias vinha revirando aquilo na cabeça incessantemente, tentando atribuir algum significado que não resultasse no presságio de má sorte que ditava a superstição.

Somente o envolvimento na organização dos presentes que desejava distribuir naquele ano era capaz de manter a mente de Ethel distante da preocupação pelo ocorrido. Como de costume, entre objetos artesanais de produção própria e poucos regalos que tinham de fato algum valor material concreto, a seleção era constituída por um misto dos mais variados itens. Seus amigos mais próximos todos já haviam recebido sua visita; a changeling fazia questão de entregar os presentes em pessoa para que pudesse testemunhar, em primeira mão, a reação deles a cada uma das quinquilharias escolhidas. Em suas contas, só restava mais uma parada para completar o ciclo daquele ano. Tivera que exercitar sua mais apurada descrição para descobrir, entre perguntas por aqui e ali, qual exatamente era o dormitório de Eirik.

Pensou, já depois de bater à porta que esperava ser a dele, que talvez devesse ter anunciado seu desejo de visitá-lo, em especial considerando o que havia transcorrido entre os dois na última vez que se viram. Porém, no fim das contas, sua vontade de fazer de sua presença uma surpresa tanto quanto os embrulhos que havia preparado especialmente para ele acabou por vencer; somente esperava que não tivesse escolhido uma ocasião muito inconveniente para fazê-lo.

[antipersonal]

✱ @protectxthem [bucky] asked:

» "when was the last time you slept?"

❱ [ send "when was the last time you slept?" for my muse's reaction ] ❰

John didn't answer right away, just kept swinging at the punching bag: fists flying too fast, sweat dripping down his temple despite the chill of the Watchtower gym at night. The thing was already leaking sand, worn thin from the hours-long marathon he'd been putting it through. (Hadn't Stark designed these for super soldiers? Whatever.)

"Dunno," he panted, breath sharp and uneven. "Yesterday? Maybe the day before." He shook out his bruised hands in a distracted motion, ignoring the trembling.

His eyes met Bucky's directly --rare in and of itself-- pupils blown so wide his eyes were scarcely blue. "You ever get like this?" he asked too casually. "Back when the serum was still kicking in. Feels like if I stop moving I'm gonna-- I don't know, split apart."

He scoffed and swung again, missing entirely and nearly stumbling into the bag. "Probably not, right? You got the real stuff." The words came out sharp. He was clearly bitter, but not at Bucky.

"Anyway, I'm fine," he added quickly, wiping feverish sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. John didn't realize it, but this was more words in a row than he'd spoken to Bucky in weeks. "Just needed to let off some steam. Stop hovering, Jesus."

[petitsdieu]

@deficd

Picture this. It's adlib day in the studio — a vocalist has her fun with flips and runs, word droplets non-prewritten — when the face-front of Deathless Sun pops in.

Her assistant will be back with some tea. The live room door is open. This is a break, likely. It usually takes prying to get her off the umbilical cord — aka the headphones are now a halo-grab around her neck. She stays seated.

❛ Twice in one month. ❜

This is not their first meeting. It won't be the last.

[caelanessaex]

WITH: @twcfaced

STARTER: "say what you need to say"

Levou uma das mãos à nuca, coçando a raiz de seus cabelos curtos como se o gesto fosse acalmar seus nervos tipicamente de aço. Havia procurado Elewen porque confiava nela para dizer a verdade, mais do que em Delyth que costumava empregar eufemismos para tentar dobrá-lo ou proteger seus sentimentos. "Fuck, I can't believe I'm gonna say this." Disse, de maneira automática e sem muitos filtros; o palavrão era prova disso – nunca praguejava na frente das princesas, ainda que jurasse fazer de tudo para desafiar a autoridade de imperatriz sempre que possível. "Preciso resolver uma situação e pode ser que a única maneira de fazer isso seja sentar no inferno do trono." Não era segredo para ninguém seu descontentamento com a linha de sucessão, menos ainda para sua família direta. "Não sei como contar isso pro velho sem que ele infarte ou me negue."