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[aibafiles]

metaphor prologue

[egophiliac]

I have never been more concerned for a JP update from your art than I am seeing a Cheka knowing the context of Leona’s dream.

My bois ok right?????? My sweet nephews ok right??????

well

uhhhh

I'm sure the real one is fine :)

[yardsards]

think of a character that isn't canonically trans that you headcanon as being trans-masculine. (if you have multiple, just choose one arbitrarily or pick your favourite)

trans-feminine headcanon poll

[housecow]

how's that ten week project going?

great !!! it’s a remote thing and i get to set my own hours :)) PLUS im getting to work with a ton of researchers i respect a lot and thats super cool 🥳

[the-lonelybarricade]

The Longest Night

A short glimpse into the lives of Rhysand and the Inner Circle on the Winter Solistice, 30 years into Rhys’s enslavement Under the Mountain.

For @officialfeysandweek Day 5: Fated

Inspired by one of my text posts from 2022

Word count: 1k

Read on AO3

-

It was the longest night of the year.

And, by any conventional standard, they had assembled the perfect Solstice dinner.

Someone had lovingly donned a woven table runner across the long dining table in the House of Wind. It's golden thread stood out starkly in the dim faelight, cutting across the dark blue fabric like streaks of lightning on a clear night. Cassian recognised the stitchwork. Its seamstress had threaded her needle through his own skin enough times, tenderly patching him up after long, brutal days in the Illyrian training camps.

His heart ached to stare at her handiwork for too long, so he averted his eyes elsewhere—to the pillars of candles, which rose among the countless platters of food, twining cinnamon and cypress with the scent of roasted meat and spices that was not overall unpleasant, just…

Unwelcome.

Not because Cassian minded the candles, or was ever one to turn away a hot meal. Particularly a spread as fine as the one before him, prepared by the best cooks in Velaris, who had dipped into the preserve of spices that were only saved for special occasions such as this.

No one could claim his discontent was the result of meager effort, or that this was a poor rendition of a Solstice Celebration.

He just couldn't summon any cheer as he snagged his fingers around the stem of his wine glass, watching the dark liquid swirl as he twisted it this way and that. It almost felt like mockery to drink wine, of all things.

Not that he would say such a thing to Mor, who was decanting the final drops of her glass into her mouth. They hadn't started dinner yet, but he couldn't blame her. Instead, Cassian wordlessly slid his glass across the table, wedging it between the fingers of Mor's rested hand, where it splayed nostalgically across the table runner.

When Mor offered him a small, grateful nod, he pushed to his feet. He needed something stronger, anyhow.

Who's idea was this, again?

As he began pouring himself a drink from the decanters at the sideboard, Cassian glanced over his shoulder. His friends were all seated at the dining table, staring mutely at their food or at their drinks. None of them were speaking.

It was a nice attempt, he thought, taking a large swallow and grunting at the heat that spread through him. He felt it burn down his chest and settle heavily in his gut—strong stuff, though he hadn't a clue what it was and didn't think anyone was in the mood to tell him.

Rhys would have known.

That thought slid in like a dagger. Lingered, as Cassian's eyes drifted unbidden to the head of the table.

A place had been set there. A knife and fork and freshly polished plate, waiting patiently beside a full glass of red wine.

But the chair was empty. Just as it had remained for the last 30 years. And no one would be coming to claim it.

For a moment, he considered dashing his drink against the prestine fucking floor and diving out the nearest window to escape this facade they were putting on, as if everything were normal. As if there was anything worth celebrating.

The only thing that subdued the impulse was the sight of Mor's trembling lip as she, too, slanted her gaze to the head of the table. And when that tremble split into a soft keening sound, it was Cassian's heart that shattered on the floor, not his drink.

"Sorry," Mor sniffed, darting her eyes to the faelight overhead as she dabbed at tears and smeared khol with the tips of her fingers. "I know we said no crying—"

"We never said that," Cassian said, sliding back into his seat.

Azriel cast an assessing eye over the admittedly generous pour Cassian was bracing in his fist, but Az reserved his commentary.

"I told myself no crying," Mor acquiesced with another sniff. "I thought 30 years would be enough time for it to not feel so… so…"

Raw, Cassian thought. Mor shrugged without concluding the thought and if anyone else mentally filled in the rest, they didn't volunteer it.

At least until they fell back into silence, and Azriel glanced towards the head of the table and rasped, "Empty."

Empty. Like Rhysand's seat, and his throne, and his bedroom.

Like the training ring in the mornings, when there was no buffer between Azriel's bouts of silence and the static in Cassian's head.

Like the bi-monthly meetings with the people of Velaris, where he watched Amren and Mor act as steward to their people's hardships and concerns, which grew more pressing each year.

Like the market squares in the city center, which were once flush with traders and merchants who were now blocked from entering or exiting the city, stranding them all in this crowded, isolated place.

Or like every aching moment over the last 30 years where Cassian glanced over his shoulder after making some smart comment, expecting to see the smug, if not exasperated, smile of his friend. His brother.

And finding nothing. A ghost of a memory, at most.

Yeah, empty was a good word for it.

-

It was the longest night of the year.

Not that Rhys would know. He spent it inside, between Amarantha's legs. Hardly given a moment to consider the time of year, or how his friends might be celebrating without him.

Amarantha told him, of course. She wanted him to know what she was taking away from him, even as he pretended that he didn't care. What interest did a Dark Lord have in petty little festivities?

Rhys didn't usually invite thoughts of his friends into Amarantha's bedroom—for his own sake, he tried to keep those parts of his life firmly compartmentalized.

But he did take a moment to send a plea to the stars he couldn't see: that his friends were okay, that they could forgive him, that they were happy.

And if the stars could offer leniency to a male who hadn't gazed upon them in years, if they had the capacity to perceive his actions with pity instead of scorn, then he saved a risidual wish for himself:

That this eternal Hell would end before he found a way to end it himself.

-

It was the longest night of year.

Unbeknownst to all of them, across Prythian, in the Mortal Realm, a human girl was born.

As if the stars had listened.

[icewindandboringhorror]

indeed my exact process once every 8 months or so

[nymdraws]

heres all the stuff that i drew pretty much specifically to have more/better examples for those commission sheets teehee

[trans-axolotl]

finished editing and sorting the data...there are currently 2,268 inpatient and/or residential treatment facilities registered in the US as of 2023.

[katatty]

Very excited to finally be getting Pleasantview Plus archived on my website! I have been putting it off for a long time, since the neighbourhood in chronological order is 808 pages long... but that's all the more reason to get it backed up somewhere, I would hate to lose all those memories some day.

This project is mainly for myself, obviously, but if you ever wanted to read the first season of my uberhood, complete with low-quality pictures, in a chapter-by-chapter format... well, here you go! XD

[unopenablebox]

I've Seen the Triangle

[ynnie631]

the things I do for a damn ratio drabble.....

writing this is actually far more interesting than writing the drabble itself... erm!

[anomalouscorvid]

throwing my beloved not-cats at spreadsheets because i remembered i have basic excel knowledge

[oldmanpuppyplay]

Every time I find a full on dedicated call-out blog it doesn't take more than a few minutes to realize that the people running it and submitting to it are the aggressors and it's just a harassment campaign, without fail.

[sorencd]

PROLOGUE: LIKE THE MOVIES

─ i want a love like i've seen in the movies.

september 19, 1957 ── 10:46 am

the bookshop, for the majority of the time, was quiet. only the sounds of customers opening the door from time to time was what could be heard. because usually, when people go bookshopping, it's done quietly. a certain pair of cheeky best friends, clad in coats and sweaters that entered the shop about an hour ago was an exception, though. the previously quiet and quaint store was now filled with hushed chattering amongst themselves and the occasional faint laughter.

examining the covers of books was your second-most favorite thing to do, aside from reading and smelling the comforting scent of aged and new books alike. neil would always stare at you incredelously whenever you took a sniff of a good old book's pages. in your defense, they really do genuinely smell good and of you could, you'd bask in the aroma forever.

"this book looks cool."

neil handed you a book with a bright cover, the title 'catcher in the rye' written in bold. you flipped it over a few times to examine it properly, it did pique your interest quite a bit, but not fully.

"what's it about?"

"it says here; 'the comic and touching novel about a raw american adolescent, which has become recognized as a key book of the present decade.' hm, it's all about adolescence, obviously." he ended, flipping the book over to look at the front page again.

"you gonna read it?"

scanning your eyes over various titles on the shelves, you couldn't find a single one that you haven't read, and if you hadn't read it, it didn't really sound too enticing to you. you were about to move to another shelve until one finally spoke to you. pulling it off where it comfortably sat between two other books with a smile, you held it in your hands carefully.

"i just might. have you found a book to read?"

"yeah." you blatantly responded, revealing the book that was in your hands. showing him the title of whatever piece of literature you were able to put your hands on.

"really, 'the cat in the hat?'." neil arched his eyebrow with a smile.

you laughed at his response and at yourself. it was maybe a bit silly, reading a children's book. but you couldn’t find anything else.

"yeah! nothing could go wrong with a dr. seuss book."

"if that's all your brain could comprehend i totally understand you, (y/n)."

shocked with what just came out of neil's mouth, you shoved his arm with faux hurt and a loud laugh. you're sure there are people watching the two of you and are giving you weird glances with how rowdy the both of you are being. you pulled your eyes away from neil to look at the selection of books once more, and another title caught your eye. repeating the same action from earlier, you took it out from where it was sandwiched.

"would you rather read this one? 'how the grinch stole christmas', it's perfect for someone like you. you could play the grinch."

"i will as long as you play max."

the pair of you were in another fit of giggles, teasing each other about ridiculous other things just to get a reaction out of the other. at this rate you're going you'd probably never be able to buy a new book to read before lunch.

"i think i'll just read 'the lord of the flies', no snide remarks neil."

"i wasn't planning on saying anything!"

"yeah ok. you go on outside, i'll be the one to pay for the books."

"it's alright, i'll wait for you."

to anyone who isn't close friends with the both of you, this could be easily misinterpreted as an interaction between a couple. but you assure them that you're just friends. moments like these however, constantly keeps you awake at night questioning if you still see neil as a friend or something more. you hated thinking about it, since you might just be giving meaning to things and you'll wind up hurting yourself in the end. why are feelings so complicated?

the clerk handed you your change and waved you off goodbye. the pair of you scuttled out of thr bookshop and into the slightly-chilled streets.

"where should we go next?" you looked at neil, hoping that he'll suggest you two visit the new cafe a few blocks down. you were a bit hungry despite doing nothing, but you were still hungry. and thank heavens neil knows you like the back of his hand.

"you wanna stop by the new cafe? the food on display always looks amazing whenever i pass by."

"brilliant idea! best decision you've ever made, neil. i must say. truly commendable."

side by side, you started walking on the pavement with your hands in each of your own pockets, respectively. neil was keen on striking up another conversation, judging by the brand new topic he had brought up seemingly out of nowhere. but you weren't complaining, you loved talking to him. that you couldn’t deny. and while the world continues moving on, your journey towards the cafe was a foot.

© sorencd . 2023 ─ do not copy, repost, translate or claim any of my works as your own.

[hierneneuro]

bro i cannot work on my thesis any longer im literally about to have a breakdown

[dykehelly]

trying to read papers more so I can be a responsible scientist and employee but the problem is, as I'm reminded every time I go to pubmed, most papers are dogshit.