#joise

[kid-sid]

woke up one day and i was dickless

[cxrsed-angel]

why do people say hazel can’t fuck and she’s clueless about sex like god forbid an autistic loser has sex like she maybe be a bit of a dumbass (lovingly) but she’s fucks. like pj was the one who didn’t know how to kiss not hazel

[frizzle-mcshizzle]

ahh i'm glad you're doing well!! i hope your surgery goes well & college isn't beating you up too bad

also TELL ME ABOUT THE AU??? PRETTY PLEASE??

im more excited for the surgery than anything i miss reading books, and my college is like light load, i only do one course at a time. currently im doing math. which i LOVE. not being sarcastic btw i literally had this course switched out with another one because i wanted to to do it so bad.

*deep inhale* SO THE AU. its a crack au thats been rationalized to the sun and back (i literally have a timeline that lines up with the books in cannon) (up to unlocked because thats as far as I've read) (along with more than one doc of backstories)

ok so if you think about it would make hell of a lot of sense if Sophie had a twin. the forkles are twins and they did a lot of research on twins, automatic cognate, back up in case one moonlark dies, backup in case one is evil, more points of view, more weapons to manipulate. etc.

so in my au Sophie has a twin she didn't know existed, there was large debate over weather to put one of the girls in the neutral territories because it seemed cruel to do that to a baby especially and because it would be more difficult to keep an eye on her with the way the neutral territories. the Forkles where very set on putting one in the neutral territories but they where out voted on the matter because the rest of the collective didn't feel it was right to put a newborn out there.

the fork men where going to have one put in the neutral territories weather the rest of the collective was ok with it or not, because that was their moonlark. while they where putting all the important black swan information in the newborns mind, one took the stronger twin and left with her leaving for the neutral territories while the other waited for Livvy to come back so he could wait for her to panic over one of the babies going missing and wipe her mind turning the emotion into fear over one of the babies dying.

the twin is placed with a group in the neutral territories that acted as a family unit and was a mix of Elves Goblins, and Gnomes, with a few pyrokentics mixed in one of them became the twins mom and named her Josie (Josie's family set up is so fun actually) (several of them have super fun aka angsty backstories)

The black swan had a planting for the actually not dead twin and decide not to ever tell Sophie about her because what good would telling her that she has a dead sister she never got to meet and who was supposed to be by her side through all of the shit she goes though.

@crymeariveronceagain i changed the exact deatils of the backstory again

[storyofmorewhoa]

Cherry Jones, Gabriel Byrne, and Ray Dotrice in Eugene O'Neill's A Moon for the Misbegotten

[the-dye-stained-socialite]

ao many cute ideas to draw but alas, my hands really need a break today

[ducknotinarow]

"What? Am I not allowed to look at you? I don't see a ring on you or anyone claiming you." ( AlastorStolas :3 )

| Muse interaction

Word of the divorce was finally spreading past just the royals circles it seemed to be leaking down the so called ladder of ran among the demons. Those outside his manor seeming to pay the prince looks of pity here and there. As if he should be pitted for getting a divorced. So many bought the picture perfect family they portrayed he guessed. Stolas wished he didn't have all of Hell's eyes on him.

That was till he noticed someone he hadn't seen before. From one look he knew they were a sinner. Wearing a stringing red pinstriped suite, he'd say it was the smile they wore that really caught the owl's attention here. Stolas at first dismissed them but their stare was so focused on him. Stolas had come accustomed to being over all ignore As he looked to see if there was a mistake by chance here maybe they were focused on someone else.

No it was just Stolas, he felt confused, as their eyes locked for a few more second.

"Pardon but do you need something?" Stolas finally speaks to break the quite between them.

"What? Am I not allowed to look at you? I don't see a ring on you or anyone claiming you.

"Oh I uh Well I suppose?" Stolas found himself a lose for words at the comment just then. Did that just happen he wonders?

[extravagantliar]

[ UNSENT ]:     a letter written for the recipient, but which the writer ultimately never sends for reasons that the writer conceals, or may reveal within the letter itself.

letter prompts // meme cache // accepting 

In the bottom of a leather holdall, there is a few parcels mixed between inkwells and books. They are wrapped in butcher paper, tied with twine, a sprig of baby’s breath bringing it all together. Lost among the vellum and books is a letter that goes with it, to be mailed with the parcels - however, it is left behind.

The parcel is a few trinkets, a crest of his family, a hair comb with ivory and dragon bone, a bracelet, gifts almost for a birthday if one had ever gone overlooked. The parcels are nice, and the gifts are personalised with the ambassador in mind, however, it is the letter that will be well missed of all. It lays in long swooping handwriting, not addressed to the ambassador or her proper unmarried title rather, it is ‘Posie’  in one swooping capital letter, and the rest cramped rather inelegantly - a joke between them, rather than him being the Viscount, he’s a nickname all on his own. 

Letters are light and fun between them, and when his hand finds the letter crushed against shas that had once belonged to his father in the bag, he is quick to open the envelope, mainly to add on before it too is sent out into the world. 

1st of Kingsway, 9:4... ( the rest of the date is smudged )

Posie,

By the time both of these arrive, it will be your birthday. I had hoped to join you at your request, however, I do not think Kirkwall will give me the time to rest. You would think that with all that we all give, Kirkwall would have an end to her problems in sight; I am not sure if Kirkwall will ever be free of her curse, but alas, I will do my best to see you before the summer festivals are out, I believe you owe me a dance or two.

My hope of having Kirkwall stable by the winter holidays may still yet be true; every day, the economy seems to be on the mend, even having trading ships sent to Par Vollen and Tevinter. I do not want to fill my head with foolish boyhood optimism, but my love for my home is just as much as your love for yours. I want to see her thrive and I am only her steward for now; I would love for Kirkwall to outgrow me -- even outlive me and surpass me.

I never intended to sit upon the Throne of Thorns or wear its Crown. I am not even sure if this is my intention forever, alas - I will take care of Kirkwall as long as I am asked, even if that means being further from our goals than we anticipated. I, however, am so proud to see your family rise from the ashes; I cannot find another family better suited than yours to aid me with the trading company and even tie our families together through unilateral trade by sea and by ground here in Antiva and in the Free Marches. Perhaps, that is also a reason for Kirkwall’s bloom is the steady trade between the two; imagine the wonders of a steady economy. 

I, of course, am a humble servant to you Posie - without your eye for the logistics, we would not have even been able to get this route out of the harbour. For all of this, I am in a debt that I will always need to repay, for it’s not just my coffers you are refilling. In Midtown and even in Lowtown I find goods of all shapes and colours these days, immigrants who cannot go home or folks who do not have a home finally can taste or feel the familiars while being so far, it’s a mystical and magical feeling, one that brings me great joy. 

Inside the boxes, you will find some trinkets from my travels. Dorian sends you an Ivory comb pressed with dragon bone. In the main box you will find all the things you requested - Kirkwall ink, vellum, and the first copy of my next upcoming serial, another thing I must thank you for…reading my thousands upon millions of words. If you ever tire of them, you must tell me at once. The smaller boxes hold some crests and a bracelet for your birthday - a gift from me to you. Some of the gems are from the Tethras family, I imagine they will look much better on you than they will on me. 

I hope to join you by the end of the month, hopefully for more than two days time. I do hate it when our meetings are so brief, simply because others also need our time. Perhaps, one day, you and I can both learn to take a moment or two for ourselves. 

Faithfully, Varric

The letter is straightened before it has another page laid over it, the date smudged again, but when she finally gets them both, this one shows first.  

11th of Kingsway Posie, 

Happy, early,  Birthday. I will be in Antiva in four days' time. I imagine you will get this letter and I will be in the Square waiting for you. My hope is to see you on the 15th, no later than noon and perhaps we will finally get a moment for lunch. 

Hurriedly yours, Varric

[the-witching-ash]

 🍟 + Genesis & Josie at Granny’s

Josie

Breakfast - French Toast, two eggs & a cup of coffee.

Lunch/Dinner - Fried Chicken with either Iced Tea or a glass of wine, depending on the time of day & her mood.

Genesis

Breakfast - Pancakes, one egg, cup of Hot Chocolate or Coffee.

Lunch - Grilled Cheese & A Bowl of Chilli, if she’s eating at the dinner she’ll get either a coke or water.

Dinner - hamburger and fries.

[martafelipe]

Não provoque

Estou de rosa choque, logo não provoque. Interprete como desejar. Hoje fui fazer unhas em um local diferente onde Continue reading Untitled

[saturnhas82moons]

It’s weird living in a coastal town, living not even 2 blocks from the ocean, and NOT hearing it

Like to me it’s the most comforting sound and I can’t sleep with out it.

If sleeping on the beach was an option I’d be there rn.

[romqnticstylez]

Your ask box ate my ask :c

so anyway I'll ask again though some of the content will be missing, I opened your previous answer while writing that

Hope you have a good week, my week was okay too, got tests and stuff

Good luck on the new House!! :D

hope my askbox is beating the eating allegations rn 🤺

hope u have a good week too since it's Monday. 😔

thanks huehue

[fieldsofwriting]

How do you think the love interests would react to an accidental love confession from the farmer? Like during a Friday night they just BLURT it out in front of everyone?

Anon, I answered this ask in full almost. And then Tumblr crashed on my computer and I lost it ALL. I am foaming at the mouth. I can't remember all of what was written so pls enjoy these two I could actively remember but let me know if you want more!

Ryis:

The last thing that anyone at the Inn had expected was to be so involved with the D&D campaign that happened at the table by the door. Truly, it hadn't been on the docket to basically watch it unfold for the entirety of Winter but where the Farmer was involved the whole town loved to watch them.

Eiland sat as the DM, then Balor the rouge, Ryis the Druid, Brad the Bearded Bard made his return with his daughter- Brightclaw at his side. And you, the fighter. Currently the store was at the climax of it all- with the spring air just looming around the corner it was almost time to switch off on someone else's campaign. But as you and the rest of your party entered the lair of the big bad you'd been hunting the last thing you were expecting was for Ryis to fall.

The party had, for lack of a better word, gotten thier asses handed to them. Brightclaw was knocked out on the ground, Brad the Bearded Bard was trying to help her get back up. Balor was knocked down, but still valiantly trying to get back up. And Ryis. Ryis in his final act had given the last of his health to get Balor back up. He had tried not to focus on the way your eyes watered and you pleaded with him out of character to not do it. But as Balor gets up and manages to get the final blow in an Epic victory, Eiland starts to narrate again.

"Ryis, as you take your final breaths, is there anything you wish to say?" He asks giving his friend a smile.

You rapidly flip through your spells and items trying to stop this- you couldn't- even if it was fake you couldn't loose Ryis like this. As your eyes land on one of your spells you gasp, slamming your hands on the table as you stand. "I cast Summon Deity!"

Eiland blinks, looking to Ryis who gives a nod to let you do this. "Which deity do you wish to summon then?"

"The God of Death!" You say frantically. "I want to plead with him to save Ryis." Eiland gives you a nod to continue. Taking a deep breath, you nod. "Dear God of Death please spare my party member."

Eiland raises an eyebrow, "And why should I?" He asks you.

"Because! Ryis doesn't deserve his end here! He can not die here! This isn't how it was supposed to be! Ryis is kind, selfless, compassionate! He likes to have ice coffee every Saturday! He thinks that watching the birds fly and sing is cool! He likes to make birdhouses and put them all over Mistria! His fate shouldn't be dying here- even then! He gave the last of his health to help defeat evil. Is that not admirable? Is that not thing you should reward?" You plead.

Eiland smirks, knowing exactly what he was doing. "You sound as if you're in love with him."

"I am!" You rush, "I love him so much, and I can not bear to be without him. Please!" Eiland grins raising a hand.

"Your request is granted." He nods, looking over Ryis. And then it hits you. You just admitted that you were in love with him. In front of everyone. While playing D&D of all places. Ryis joins you in standing from across the table.

"As I feel my life coming back to me, I reach out my hand and take y/n's. Looking into her eyes, I say that I love you too." The Inn erupts into cheers causing you and Ryis to startle before breaking out into laughter.

"Hear that Joise! You owe me twenty Ters!"

Celine:

Friday night at the Inn were also fun. And they were especially fun when all of the younger single townsfolk gathered together to drink. It wasn't often that it happened but every now and again it was something you would all sit at the bar and do- it often left Hemlock very entertained.

But now, as you all sat and started chatting you were sharing the worse pick up lines that you had ever heard. Giggling at how awful they were with each other. "Ugh! We once had a guy where who did that dumb 'is your dad a baker? Cause you've got nice buns pun to me." Reina says with an eyeroll as she tips her head back to drink. The rest of the girls groan in unison.

"Shouldn't the line be about your mother? Considering she was the one who was pregnant?" Adeline says with a frown and crease in her brow. Celine pats her shoulder.

"Don't think about it too hard." She smiles, "And as much as that sucks. I do wish I had at least one of those stories." She sighs, "No one has said something like that to me." Celine frowns a little, her pout adorably cute.

"Wait- you've never been hit on?" You asks with a gasp. "That just seems like a crime." Your friends go a little quiet as they process what you had just said, but in your slightly tipsy state you continued to blabber on. "I mean, seriously. You're like the cutest person ever. I can give you a good pick up line-" You lean over, wrapping an arm around her chair. Not realizing the way that her face flushes as she watches you intensely. "Are you a rose? Because you're making my heart bloom."

Sighing, Orlic gets up. "Okay c'mon Y/N lets get you home." He smiles as he helps you, "Hemlock's orders."

In the morning, you wake up with a raging headache and a...banging in your head? Getting up to see the sunlight shining in you blink as you realize the banging isn't just in your head. Hopping out of bed to open the door, Celine stands there with a bright red blush looking anywhere but you. "H-hello y/n...uhm...do you remember last night?"

Opening the door more you nod, silently offering for her to come inside. "Of course I do. Why? Should I not?" You ask with a raised eyebrow as you go to make some coffee.

"W-well you hit on me." She stammers out.

"That is what people who have crushes tend to do with the person they have a crush on, do." You smirk.

She stands there before blinking rapidly. "I- you-" She lets out a sigh as she rushes over and wraps her arms around you. "I like you too." She breathes. Letting out a quiet laugh you hold her tightly. Happy that it has turned out for the best.

A/N: I can definitely do the others- but like I said Tumblr crashed and I wanna throw hands. But anyways, I hope you enjoyed!!

[xxvalkyriesxx]

Flying Changes - Chapter Four

A Nessian Equestrian Fic

Masterlist // Previous Part // Next Part

Read on AO3 or below!

Horses

CW: Mentions of alcohol abuse and drunk driving, mentions of family members being hurt bc of addiction. Cassian is indeed an ass in this one. So is Mor.

“Look, Nesta. You got yourself into this. You’re the one who drove drunk to the cemetery last month where you knew your sisters would be there. It’s almost as if you wanted to be caught, falling into a trap they didn’t even set.” He shook his head, looking out the nearby window.

“You’re lucky you didn’t kill someone.” Eris huffed as he ran a hand through his hair.

“I know I might be asking for a lot. But I can’t stand it here, Eris.” Nesta said, crossing her arms.

“You’re asking for something that I can’t do. The judge will not lighten your sentence. In fact she may double down. Or better yet throw you in jail.”

“Maybe it would be better.” Nesta mumbled.

Eris rolled his eyes. “My hands are tied. You put yourself behind that wheel. There's no excuse for that in this world.”

Nesta remained silent, her foot tapping against the table’s leg. The probation officer leaned back in the opposing chair staring.

“Sorry chick-a-dee. You should have known better.”

Her eyes raised until she met his gaze. Glaring from her silver blues to his browns. A smirk rolled with his lips. He leaned down, closer to Nesta. “Careful, pup .”

Eris shot a glare at the officer. “Watch your tone, Bellius. That’s my client you’re speaking to.”

Bellius lifted his hands up in mock surrendering. “Sorry, Eris. Bitch got my tongue and all.”

Nesta snarled shooting up from her chair, but Eris caught her wrists before she could do anything. 

He leant down to her ear. “If you want a punishment worse than what you have now, by all means, continue.”

Feeling Bellius’ stare, Nesta yanked her wrist from Eris’ grasp.

“I’m done for today.” 

Nesta marched out of the tackroom in a silvery blaze.

**

Bits of the citrus peel came under Nesta’s nails as she finished peeling the clementine. Eating one at a time, Nesta took out her phone, shuffling a playlist to listen to. Her head bobbed to “Stone Mother” by Joise & Laurel. The folky country music played in her earbuds where cellos and violins made art with their bows. Drums in the back and piano as the melody she sang along softly to the music. The sound helped soften her thoughts from earlier with Eris and Bellius. It was something she didn’t want to think about; how she ended up here.

Looking up, Nesta watched the horses from the therapy barn graze. By now she was learning who was who despite not working with them. The two terrasen cove horses were Sundrop and Starlight.They trotted around the area, playfully annoying one another. At first glance it wasn’t easy to tell who was who, but if she looked closely, Starlight’s forelock was a brownish color compared to the rest of his mane that was whitish blond like Sundrop’s.

Grazing near the pasture fence was the nidaros draught named Betty. Cassian mentioned he wanted to call her Betty Brown Eyes but everyone vetoed the name. The horse looked up, watching Neta. She could maybe see where Cassian was coming from, however she would not ignite that man’s ego.

The sun was setting in the late August sky as Nesta’s gaze traveled from horse to horse. It was so natural looking at them, studying their markings and their behaviors that she didn’t notice that different music was playing.

Until she heard the soft violins play the instrumental version of a song about a summer’s cruelty. Her eyes widened at the sounds as she remembered it all; riding Flame in the Grand Prix freestyle in her first Olympics at sixteen. Flame performed the piaffe gorgeously, his body in elegant trot. But what stole the show and earned them the bronze medal were the smooth transitions of the flying changes in his canter strides.

Naturally Nesta’s posture changed from muscle memory. Back straightened, eyes forward, hands steady. Her attention was solely on the music so her gaze unfocused from the world around her. Colors of the sky and grass and horses blended together. Her face stayed neutral as if she was still performing.

Then the music stopped as the wire to her earbuds were yanked. Startled, Nesta scrambled to stand, meeting blonde hair and glaring brown eyes. She stood up fully, tucking her phone back in her pocket, the clementine on the ground.

“Can I help you?” Nesta asked.

“You can help the ranch. Breaktime is over.” The woman said.

 Nesta recognized the designer logos on the woman’s outfit and accessories. Who the fuck brought Barbie Karen out here?

“Excuse me, but you don’t order me around.”

“I do when my cousin owns this ranch. I do when my best friend has had to suffer from not just alcoholic parents, but a sister too.”

Guilt slid right to her heart at the mention of her family. Shifting left, Nesta stared at the woman in front of her. She looked oddly familiar, remembering her on Feyre’s instagram. Ranging from posts featuring the City of Starlight to late night stories. Her stomach twirled with slight envy whenever they appeared on her feed. She raised an eyebrow at the woman as she tried to recall her name.

Michelle? Monica?  

Nesta glared. “I don’t know why you’re being such a busybody? And in any case, I follow Cassian’s orders.”

The woman glared right back. “Cass and Az went to the tack shop a few towns over to buy more feed or whatever.” She glanced down at her manicured nails before continuing. “It doesn't matter. Cass put me in charge of you. As a reminder, you were sent here to work. Not to look at ponies all day.”

The guilt dried out as anger brewed over it, swelling in Nesta’s stomach and mind. Her hands curled into fists. As emotions rose, so did the familiar wanting waves of liquor Nesta knew she should ignore.

“Fuck off.” Nesta snapped, her tone bitter to the bite.

The woman stood unphased. “Cassian mentioned you would be stubborn as Rhys’ mule. Get back to work, Nesta.”

Nesta moved back so she was leaning against the nearby tree. “I think I’m quite content to stay right here actually. And clearly you know me, but I don’t know you. Although you seem oddly familiar.” The desire to drink grew with every word she spat.

“I remember my sister hanging out with an alt-righteous bitch. Megan was it?” She spoke without missing a beat.

“It’s Morrigan.” The blonde snarled. “And last time I checked, the alt-righteous bitch was the one who almost killed her own sister by driving drunk.”

Time swirled as Nesta was no longer standing near Morrigan on that damn ranch. No, she was behind the wheel of her car, familiar blue eyes looking at her in fear, wincing for the impact to happen. The guilt rose and overlaid her entire soul as engine smoke blew into her lungs. 

Cold deadly rage bolted Nesta from the tree, her body barely inches from Morrigan.

“You know nothing about that day.”

“I know enough.”

The rage grew sorrowful in its course through Nesta’s heart. Her desire to defend herself lay defeated in between them. Nesta silently walked past Morrigan, bumping her shoulder with the blonde’s.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Morrigan called out.

Nesta stopped, looking over her shoulder. “I can’t stand you if I’m sober.”

She walked away, every step in wrath and grief. As Nesta came near the house, spotting a bay mare trotting around uneasily. Her body language came off as scared almost. Don’t I know the feeling?

Turning her head, Nesta continued walking down the dirt driveway making it all the way to the mailbox before turning on the two way road, heading to the right. Her phone was her only companion whose battery life ran dangerously low as the sky only grew darker.

**

Nesta was unsure how long she was walking for as she made her way down the road. The urge to drink was clutching her throat, needing the taste of smooth cold vodka. Her nails scratched her left arm, trying to suppress the urges that she fed willingly for the last several years. Body aches and a pounding headache merged not long after, her symptoms starting to come back in high tide.

Fuck that bitch. Fuck Morrigan. She doesn’t know anything. None of them do! Nesta thought to herself as her mind stayed focused on all of these thoughts. Her guilt had drained entirely but only to be replaced with anger. It was like this for years, no one knowing the truth, and Nesta knew she shouldn’t be surprised, but it bothered her. It bothered her to her bones, as they carried her trauma.

A car going the opposite direction came over a hill, its headlights blinding Nesta for a moment where she walked on the narrow shoulder. Large fields were all that she could make out as she stopped walking. A slow dread curled into the pit of her stomach. Where the hell was she?

She peered up to the sky, the once oranges and pinks and purples were now the shades of blackish blues. The sky was littered with stars, however their names she never could recall. Feyre was always good at remembering the constellations, their names and where they were in the sky.

The thought of her baby sister made the pit grow bigger, anchoring her to the stop. She squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to think of Feyre. Reaching into her pocket, Nesta drew out her phone that’s battery was at five percent. Panic strode deep within her, hands shaking. Quickly Nesta unlocked her cracked screen, moving on autopilot as she found the last number she called that was several weeks ago. The phone dialed, her anxiety growing.

I shouldn’t have called. She’s busy. She has her life. She doesn’t need me. But I–

“Hello?” A voice Nesta recognized far too well spoke on the other line.

Nesta struggled to speak, but her anxiety pushed through with a tail flare of courage. “Ellie?”

An old nickname for her first younger sister. Growing up they called each other Nessie and Ellie, a duo that survived their mother’s laws and father’s absences. The other day she didn’t want to think of her, but now she clung to her sister’s voice in this endless sea of darkness.

“Are you drunk?” Elain accused.

Startled by the accusation, Nesta’s pitch shot high. “W-what? No. Listen it’s a long story, but I walked off the ranch and my phone is dying-” 

“What!? Where are you, Nesta? What are you even thinking? Are you asking to join our parents now?”

Hurt slammed into Nesta like the wind was knocked out of her. But she pushed it down, all the way to the rage she grew familiar with living with. The rage everyone saw.

“Fuck you, Elain. I was just trying to talk to you.”

“Well excuse me for not knowing the difference. I don’t think I’ve spoken to you sober in almost two years, Nesta.” She sighed before continuing. “And the last several times you called, all you did was apologize to me while drunk.”

“You got yourself into this mess, Nesta. Figure out how to get back on your own.”

Her words ironically mirrored Nesta's conversation with Eris. Before she could hiss or cry out, the line went dead. Nesta pulled her phone away from her ear, the black screen filling the void. Numbly, Nesta walked, her anxiety and hurt and rage clung to the ground making her steps heavy as she pushed forward.

Her eyes stung with tears as Nesta continued walking. She sniffed, hoping to bottle these feelings away. She hated crying. Hated looking weak. Hated how she could be taken advantage of with tears. As sadness brewed into a simmering rage, she suddenly stopped. Lights of a nearby store shined, an open sign flashing in the corner of the window. Then it hit her.

“I also live down the road from the House of Wind. I run the general store down the way. If you make a right out of the ranch and keep going down, you’ll find my place eventually.”

Before Nesta knew it, she was running. Her lungs heaved at the sudden exercise as Nesta pushed open the door, almost falling face first into the wooden floor. Trying to regain her breath, Nesta gazed around the shop area. There was a counter filled with crops probably from local farmers. Nearby was an entire shelf dedicated to the local honey, ranging from honey in a bottle to honeycombs. On the other side was local pet food and toys. There were a few spots that held snacks and drinks for customers.

As Nesta approached the cashier counter, news clippings of barrel races that were so old the paper was an ugly hue of a brownish yellow. There were actual photos along with magazine cut outs. Then in an old wooden frame behind the counter was a photo of a woman who looked like Emerie. Her smile was big as she stood next to a bay colored horse. The horse wore western tack as it seemed genuinely content with the woman.

“We’re about to close, so make it fast–Nesta?” A voice came out from a nearby backroom. Her new friend stood with her hair in a braid like the other day. Emerie lifted the hatched to cut through to the store area.

“What are you doing here? I thought you said that you were…what’s wrong?”

Nesta shook her head, but felt the sting of water in her eyes threatening to fall. She rubbed her eyes roughly, pushing the tears away. She took a breath, then another one. Her hand still over her eyes as she spoke.

“I..I got lost.” She sheepishly shrugged. “Didn’t want to be alone.” She mumbled the last part.

There was weight on her free hand. Pulling the hand away from her face, Nesta cast her gaze downwards. Emerie’s hand laid on top of her’s.

“These roads can get pretty scary at night if you’re not familiar.” Emerie said, before pulling her hand away, ushering Nesta to the backroom. With a little encouragement, Nesta stepped forward going. Most of the room was taken up by shelves, back-stock items. At the end of the room was a desk with a computer and a phone.

“Make yourself at home.” Emerie pointed to a chair as she walked to the desk.

Nesta sat comfortably in the cozy armchair. It was worn down by the years with scratch marks and stains, but the golden velvet stood out like a sore thumb. It was the brightest item in the room, possibly on the store level. Nesta raised an eyebrow at the chair.

Emerie grinned at her expression. “I live upstairs, but sometimes I like to read down here when the shop is closed. My dad’s family has had this shop for decades. My mom helped with this store ‘til the day she died.”

Her brows furrowed, lost in a memory. A moment passed before Emerie spoke again. “He wasn’t a good father or husband, but that chair was the one thing he allowed my mom to have.” Emerie shrugged. “Having the chair here is like having her down here too.”

Glancing down at the chair, Nesta’s fingers traced the left armrest. Her gaze returned to Emerie as her new friend stared at her own tattoo on her arm. Emerie traced the words inked into her skin.

“It was something she said to me every day, even on the day she died. ‘I love you Emerie, more than the mountains, the moon, and Mars .’” Emerie’s voice cracked slightly when she finished the quote.

“I’m sorry about your mom.” Nesta’s mother appeared in her mind. Her stare mirrored Nesta's eyes, watching with unrestrained coldness. Rubbing her arms, Nesta tried to draw warmth from the friction of her hands.

“Thank you. Also I’m sorry, I tend to leave the AC blasting down here all of the time.” Emerie apologized as she tossed a blanket from a nearby basket.

Nesta caught the thow, noticing all of the different horses scattered around. A similar one flashed from a childhood memory. Quietly, she breathed looking back up.

“Is your dad still around?”

Emerie laughed, although there was little evidence of humor. “No. He died two years ago. Had a heart attack while running the store…When I found him.” Emerie tapped her fingers against the desk, shifting. “It was like a weight had been lifted.”

Nesta moved so she sat cross-legged underneath the blanket, mindful to slip off her boots beforehand. “I felt similar when my mother died. I was already traveling to shows by then, but when my dad called me to tell the news, I felt…I felt clear, if you ever felt that before.”

Emerie nodded. “I have.”

Standing up, Emerie opened the mini fridge near her desk. She pulled out two glass bottles that resembled beer. Nesta voiced concerns, but stopped short when Emerie handed one to her, a colorful label she’s never seen before. 

Cola Cold  - originally made Smite Hill.

“Smite Hill?” Nesta puzzled, staring at the logo.

“It’s a small town south of here. They’re not friendly, as you could guess by the name, but they make all sorts of craft sodas and strangely enough neat rabbit statues.” 

Emerie took a sip. “Their cola is far by the best in the world. And it’s a twist cap, so don’t even worry about asking for a bottle opener.”

Nesta hummed, twisting the cap off.

The first sip hit her with something fizzy, sweet, tangy, and maybe even citrusy. 

A small smile appeared as she took another sip.

���See? It’s good.”

“It’s fine.”

“Liar!” Emerie grinned.

The two smiled at one another, clanking their bottles together.

After a moment, Emerie asked. “You wanna tell me how you got here?”

Nesta took a sip of the soda. “Not really, I don’t wanna talk about me right now.”

Emerie didn’t push, taking the hint. Settling into her desk chair, she reached for a book near the computer when Nesta gasped.

“Is that The Seven Lords and Me ?”

“You know Sellyn Drake?” Emerie’s eyes sparkled with a devilish delight.

“I’ve only read that one from her. What else do you recommend?”

“Oh Nesta Archeon, you have no idea of the pandora box you just opened.”

As the truck turned off, Cassian had an uneasy feeling nestled inside him. Everything was fine up until Azriel and him were on their way back from the store for horse feed and other necessities for the barns. He spotted Mor’s convertible in the lot in front of the house. Grabbing the bags from the tailgate, Cassian began walking to the therapy barn first. He winced slightly with the added weight on his shoulder.

But as he walked, Cassian didn’t see the braided golden brown hair he’s grown familiar with over the last two weeks.The newest horse over in the corral was moving uneasily. She kept trotting and cantering, changing her gaits.

Where was Nesta?

“Cass?” A feminine voice called out. 

Cassian turned to see Mor coming out of the house.

“Hi Mor. What’s up? Have you seen Nesta?”

Mor picked at her nails. “You didn’t see her on your way home?”

“On the way home?” Cassian shook his head. “What the fuck happened, Mor?”

“I asked her to finish her break and return to work. It’s what she’s here to do after all. We got into a little spat, and then…” The words trailed off as her hands struggled to empathize. 

“Then what, Morrigan?” 

It was rare for Mor’s full name to be used within the family. It was even rarer from Cassian.

Mor disappointedly shook her head, caught off guard by the use of her full name. “I don’t know…She said something like going to drink or something. Then she just walked off the ranch.”

The world froze as Cassian’s mind went over everything that Mor just said to him.

“And you…You, you didn’t stop her?”

“I didn’t think she was serious and then 15 minutes went by, and…I’m not sure where she went...”

Panic rustled in his chest. “Alright, and you saw her walk out the ranch, not anywhere else?” He shifted, handing Mor the feed. “And here, put this food in the barn. Just leave them inside the feed room. I’ll get to it later.”

Mor grunted, the heaviness catching her slightly off balance. “Where are you going?” 

“To find Nesta. Unless you want to call Feyre on how you lost her sister.”

His friend quickly turned around, heading to the barn. 

His foot tapped, thinking.

Nesta couldn’t have gone far…Downtown is about a twenty minute walk from here. It’s the closest place to buy a drink.. 

Cassian pulled out his phone, calling her. It went straight to voicemail.

“Shit.” He dialed a second time, but was left with the voicemail again. He sighed as he stayed on the line.

“Hey Sweetheart, I don’t know where you are, but you need to get your butt back over here at the ranch…I’ll see you soon.”

His hand pulled at the ponytail from the half-up half-down look. Biting his lip, Cassian raced through his options. He could call the cops, but that could make everything worse for Nesta. And after her AA meeting earlier in the week, she seemed to be doing a little better. Was this all for nothing? His other hand hovered over Rhys’ name in his contacts.

Fear brewed as Cassian recalled that he had faced this before, losing someone out in the field during a battle. But what started as a rescue assignment turned into a recovery mission. The fallen soldier was eventually found far out west of the base. The state of his body…Cassian shook his head, not wanting to relive it again.

I’m not there anymore. He took a deep breath before running up to the house. As he ran, Azriel came flying out of the door.

“Emerie just called.” Azriel said, sounding a little breathless.

“Emerie as in Rip’s daughter, Emerie?” Cassian questioned.

“The only Emerie we both know who has the ranch’s number. Nesta’s with her.”

Cassian blinked, the shocked settling in. “She knew how to get there?”

Azriel shrugged. “Maybe Emerie mentioned it at AA. But we can discuss that later.”

The brothers hopped into the truck before taking off down the road.

**

The door to the truck flew open as Cassian jumped out. Standing on the store’s porch was Nesta. Behind her stood Emerie. 

“Where the fuck have you been?” Cassian shouted. Frustration and worried mixed, but it was only anger that dripped from his words. His gaze titled down, finding two glass bottles on the ground.

Cassian’s body shook, unable to hide his wrath. “You were drinking?!” 

Nesta looked down, not saying anything. Her arms crossed over her chest.

“Nesta, get in the truck.” Azriel called out, climbing out the driver seat. His black stetson hat blended with the night sky.

Nesta didn’t look back as she got in through the passenger door side, sliding to the middle. Cassian began to sneer when Azriel approached him.

Emerie glared at Cassian. “She was with me the entire time, Valyrian. She hasn’t had one sip. You know this is a dry store.”

Azriel nodded, picking up one of the bottles. “We would’ve smelled the alcohol on her. This is pop. She isn’t drunk, Cass.” His tone was almost a warning to his brother.

Cassian wrestled trying to find the right words. His ears shaded pink in embarrassment.  “I’m sorry, Emerie.” He stood as the regret of his words sunk deep. “Thank you for looking out for her.” He spoke gently to Emerie. “I’m sorry that I yelled and accused her of drinking.”

Emerie rolled her eyes. “I don’t care that you yelled, I care that you accused my friend. And more importantly you should be apologizing to her. Not the other way around, General .” Cassian’s old nickname from high school rolled off her tongue like it was nothing.

Cassian mumbled, agreeing with Emerie before he and Azriel got back into the truck.

The truck ride home was the most silent 2 minute car drive Cassian had ever been on. Not soon enough they pulled up onto the long driveway. Cassian didn’t spot the red car in the lot anymore. Mor must have left then. Probably for the best..

The three left the truck. Nesta stormed away, heading to the house. Cassian started to follow, reaching for her hand, but Azriel stepped in front of him, blocking his path. At this angle he could see the slight differences in their height.

“Leave her alone tonight. It’s been a long day for everyone. Talk to her in the morning.”

Cassian sighed, his anxiety spiking. 

“Let’s take care of the horses for now. It’ll distract you.” Azriel moved past him, but soon turned around. 

“You may also want to take your lessons and learn from them. Whatever you said about the damn horse in the corral, apply it to Nesta. She’s not broken, but no one becomes an alcoholic for shits and giggles. You of all people should know that.”

Cassian grimaced, the toll of his emotions from the evening wearing him down like rocks under water. He felt his brother’s hand on his good shoulder.  

“Let her come to you, Cass. When she’s ready.”

“When did you become the smart one?” Cassian questioned, cocking his head to the side.

His brother let go of his shoulder, heading towards the barns.

As Azriel walked he called out. “I have two very idiotic brothers. Someone has to be the smart one out of the three of us.”

Cassian agonized replaying the moments with Nesta in his mind. The emotion was so much, the dull familiar pain in his shoulder ached. He groaned, massaging his bad shoulder. The chronic aching had returned like clockwork. 

Glancing up the meadow of stars above him, a soft voice called out from his memory. The voice felt almost like it was from a different lifetime, combing through the ridges of his childhood.

“Today was bad, Cassian. But that means tomorrow can be better.”

Cassian turned, his gaze settling onto the mare in the corral. She wasn’t pacing as much, but she refused to stand still. Her big brown eyes watched him, as if something or someone was communicating with him.

“And if the next day is bad, you don’t give in. Keep reaching for tomorrow.”

Tag List (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @chairofchaos @blueunoias @velarisdusk @c-e-d-dreamer @jsmelodies @inkedinshadows @wolfnesta @lilah-asteria @highqueenmorrigan @daughter-of-lethe

[istherewifiinhell]

okay. heres what were all here for. tell me why the fuck im supposed to suck the dick of these uk comics

[ID: A man holding up an aged looking paper, with a medieval style drawing of a giant metal fire breathing man. He leans forward serious asking his son "... Did it look like this?" END]

marveltf story line, MAN OF IRON, 9-12 in the UK, or.... 33-34 in the us. alright lol do whatever i guess. first published in 1985

new vibe same procedure: Script: Steve Parkouse art: John Ridgeway (9-10) Mike Collins (11-12) Colours: Joise Fermin (9-10) Gina Hart (11-12) Nel Yomtov (US)* Letters: Richard Starkings Editor: Sheila Cranna and these caps are from the UK classics idw book so: Original Series Edits by Shelia Cranna and Ian Rimmer, editorial notes and assistance by James Roberts, Collection Edits by Justin Eisinger and Alonzo Simon, Collection Design by Shawn Lee (<- hey i know his work from turtles!)

*so the uk comics were part in colour and part B&W, to save costs... including the american reissues? printing costs i guess. but when reprinted in collected books, they would get the full colour treatment. whats not clear to me is WHO did those colours, its not listed anywhere i can find. ill simply have to assume its the same artists... and hope im not discrediting anyone....

AND ALSO the last page in this reprint apparently uses the US comic page, and i have a cap of that last page, so. Yomtov's in here too..... tf franchise the way u treat ur sacred texts breaks my turtles fan heart.

and lastly! the keen eyed may notice, we are back to toy accurate art, the character model designs haven't and wont make their way over until much later, I'm told.

well with all that perfectly convoluted business out of the way, lets explore what tfs is like across the pond.

[ID: The same man, Roy, driving as he thinks to himself "What kind of bozo would want to bomb the castle? The Saxon Liberation Front? The mind boggles…" END]

[spluttering laugh] so the humours a little different!

[ID: The boy, Sammy, climbing a tree, hand outstretched reaching for the arrow he lost. Standing, with his in the canopy is Jazz. Sammy yells in fear. END]

OKAY. so the vibes are little different

[ID: Caption Box: And the apparition was fearful, being a Man of Iron of great height and girth, seeming unheedful of quarrel, spear or sword…" The robot from the illustration, clearly transformer, but blockier, more retro scifi, standing in the middle of a medieval battle, men with chain-mail and swords looking at him with trepidation. Caption Box: The Man of Iron forded the stream at Eldric's Cross, making great strides for the abbey… and some brave souls followed, though none dared come too close…" Two of the fighters shown following him, a body shot with an arrow lays at the other side of the river. END]

damn okay. so the vibes are ALOT DIFFERENT

(no 10) sammy dreams

[ID: Sammy stands on a house rooftop, in his PJ's, looking down at the cobble street, where a seeker in alt mode rests. END]

[ID: Dark and moody art, a barely seen figure towers in the shadows over the residential houses. From a higher angle, its shown to be Mirage, he stands taking up the entire street, backlit and casting shadows. END]

WHAT THE FUCK. that is terrifying

(something about beautiful black inked art + toy model makes them so CREATURE)

[ID: Roy speaks to a man in army uniform. Roy: How large? Soldier: Well… ahh…at a rough estimate? About the size of an ocean-going liner. Roy: Whaat? Roy with a hand to his head in dismay: Well, for god's sake what is it? Solider: We don't know. I've called in extra men and we're going to excavate… END]

somethings! buried under the castle... gee well one wonders what it might be

[ID: Close on Jazz's alt mode dashboard, its filled with lights and screen of alien language. Hes saying: But I'm not a stranger, Sammy. Deep down, you know… don't you? You've been wanting an adventure all your life… Besides. I have something to tell you. Sammy looking doubtful. Jazz continues: Something really important. Sammy has a hand on Jazz's open door: Why not just sit for a while in the front seat? Just pretend you're driving… END]

JAZZ THATS KIDNAPPING BUD....

really get a kick outta this note in the printed version

[ID: REMEMBER: NEVER ACCEPT LIFTS FROM STRANGERS! TO BE CONTINUED! END]

(no 11)

[ID: Jazz speaks to Sammy on the road, a blue and white F1 car pulling up. "My name is unpronounceable in your language… so just call me Jazz! And that's Mirage right behind us!" Jazz takes a exit to a low road, a black camper truck driving alongside. "This is where we rendezvous with Trailbreaker. All set Sammy?" All three driving along, Sammy responds "Sure thing Jazz!" END]

[guitar riff] THE BOYS ARE BACK IN TOWN. im so glad all my good friends are here.

[ID: An fiery explosion engulfing Trailbreaker with a "Whaamf!". Wheels coming off, glass shattering, the truck top blowing to bits. Trailbreaker veering off road, a trail of fire and parts behind him calls out "Jazz! I'm hit... I'm hit BAD! END]

TRAILBREAKER NOOOO. who could have seen this coming...

[ID: Jazz narrowing swerving a missile. Exploding behind him, and speedlines trail him, and a wreath in flame around him. The colours are almost delicate, and a reflective glow in his paint. END]

wha. this just looks so cool.... what the hell....

[ID: Bluesteak, smiling speaking to comms "Autobot Bluestreak to patrol leader +++ Just brushed something off your tail, Jazz+++ try to be more careful in future, hmmm? Bluestreak out+" END]

being a cunt in the work slack. king

[ID: Jazz in profile, lit under the starry night sky, soft line-less colours defining the planes of his head in blue greys, and pitch black. To Sammy he says "Not really. It's a shuttlecraft… now stand back…" To comms "Autobot Jazz To Autobot leader+++ Approaching shuttle with Surveillance Subject+++ Request permission to board+++" END]

Wuh. Huh. Jazz u look so fucking cool right now?? And handsome.....

okay whats going on back at the castle (no 12)

[ID: The army soldier half sitting on a desk, holding a phone to his ear, the rotary cradle held resting on his leg. He's saying "IT's not just a question of scale, sir. We simply cannot identify it. END]

whys he kinda... apparently this style of uniform is called temperate barrack dress?? that answers none of my questions im just kinda... whyd u draw him like that tho...

[ID: A seeker, drawn in blues, walking between the ruins of the castle. Off panel someone says "It just seemed to appear from nowhere!" END]

bigfooting it up... AT A CASTLE. oh lads. im done for [blah blah he telePORTS and thats skywarps power but hes blue so WHO is it. dont worry abt it man. dont matter. they apparently change in the various times its been coloured, which is objectively funny imho. keep em guessing]

[ID: Moody and still illustrations of a robot identical to the Man of Iron in stasis, plugged into a bed of sorts. The ship around him is dark but for strips of coloured computer like lights in the walls and floor. Caption boxes narrate: Deep beneath the Autobots feet, in a sealed chamber, a special Autobot lay waiting… He was navigator, warrior and guardian of Autobot destiny… In his long, slow, machine world, a million years were as fleeting seconds. Human history had passed over him. Small inter panels. Mid on the Guardian: Locked in his dormant brain was the location of the planet Cybertron. He waited only to be re-activated, re-integrated with his mission… Restored to life. Close on the Guardian: His attendant was no more, the link between them severed. Laying in profile, just barely defined in the pitch black: Alone in the darkness he patiently beamed his signal. The same pattern of impulses… Waiting. END]

What the actual fuck (its even more somberly dramatic than just that)

[ID: Sammy, from a distance, staring at the castle. Caption Box: Autumn came, leaves fell. Sammy was a year older and a year wiser. He never saw Jazz again… Sammy asleep in bed, moonlight pouring through his paneled window. "But on clear, sharp nights, when stars glittered like needles and the night winds rattled his window… Then he slept a fitful, fearful sleep…" Sammy sleeping, with his dreams projected above him. "And the Man of Iron walked once more through his dreams." The End]

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

um well. okay! thats. fucking crazy. and this is the only tf comic this dude ever did. okay... can u tell he was from the dr who comics...... it ALSO means this doesnt actually speak at all for what the rest of tfuk will be like. which is damn funny. LIKE WOW! THAT WAS CRAZY. anyways.

[lilybarnesposts]

okay i love your writing and i have a super fluffy but could be angsty fic idea

reader loves physical touch but knows matt’s insecure about his scars but one night after drinking she’s like i with youd let me cuddle i love your scars

Hi! Thank you so much, I'm definitely still a work in progress! I hope I did this ask justice and that you like it. Matt would definitely be so insecure even though he has no reason to be because that man is hot, hot, hot! -*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*- Tag List Form Mm Masterlist Masterlist Matt Murdock x Gn!Reader, no pronouns used I believe Warnings: Matt being insecure, semi-brief mention of alcohol and being drunk, I think that's it. -*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Scars

Let it be known Matt Murdock hated his scars. He loathed them, made him feel like he was less than others, just because people had gotten hits on him, Matt can take a hit don’t get it wrong but when they leave such a lasting and in his opinion ugly reminder he wants nothing more than to keep them covered at all times, so he does.

Letting very few people see them, especially you, he loved you, you knew that. You also knew that he was scared to death of you leaving him because of his scars because he knows he doesn’t have the smooth skin that many others do, so you leave it alone, though your body itches to see them and kiss them, you’ve accepted it and know that when the time is right he’ll show you them and then you’ll show him that no matter how many scars he has you couldn’t love him any less. Often times after a case is closed Matt, Foggy, and Karen go out to Joises and drink and they often invite you, sometimes you don’t go, and sometimes you do. This time you did and boy are you glad you did because all four of you are sitting at a booth laughing about who knows what while feeling the warm buzz of alcohol settle in your veins. Matt has you cuddled to his chest as much as he’ll let you and you revile in the physical contact you aren’t sure what possessed you but suddenly you look at Matt and say. “You know, I’d cuddle you and kiss your scars if you’d let me,” Matt freezes, as do Karen and Foggy. Matt tilts his head at you, his eyes covered by his infamous red glasses. 

“I know you would,” he says quietly then looks back at Foggy and Karen who have recovered from your statement Foggy is telling Karen some embarrassing story from law school.

Later that night you and Matt catch a cab back to his apartment after saying goodbye to Karen and Foggy. Once you’ve entered the apartment Matt wanders into the bedroom and quickly going into the bathroom and shutting the door, of course, he’s allowed his privacy but when you know he’s doing it just so you won’t see the scars your heart stutters. You walk up to the bathroom door and knock slightly, you don’t hear the shower running so you hope he’s standing by the door. “I meant what I said, Matt, I don’t care about your scars, you mean more to me than that.” 

After a few minutes, the door opens, and Matt stands there with his shirt unbuttoned and his glasses discarded on the counter. Your mouth drops open and you already know Matt has zoned in on everything your body is doing, how your heart rate skips a beat, the breath that leaves your lips. You slowly stand up from where you’ve sat on the bed and make your way to Matt reaching your hand out but not touching him, “May I,” you ask quietly. Matt nods. Slowly, you let your fingers move over his scars, he’s tense you can feel it, but as you run your hands over his body he slowly begins to melt and when you begin kissing each scar, Matt thinks he falls in love with you even more, it’s safe to say that night that you sleep curled up to Matt’s chest tracing the scars and whispering how much you love him and how much he means to you, he just holds you tighter. Matt Murdock may hate his scars, but you love him, and that’s all that really matters.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Taglist @leossmoon @ellajazz @srhz (Sorry if this isn't the correct account! The other names weren't pulling up!)

[ducknotinarow]

"I need to rest" ( unsuspecting AlastorLucifer uwu )

| Send "I need to rest" for your muse to lay their head down in my muse's lap

Lucfier was sure since the whole battle with the angel's during the second extermination of the year that would surely draw more demons to his daughters hotel. It just made complete sense to him for it to work that way and he had promised his little girl he would support her dream 100%. Especially when he thought her last support bit the dust. Fucking Adam can't even kill the sinner that should be axed off? You know all of that was whatever.

So Alastor lived fine, so he came back to the hotel even. Least there were on the far end of the hotel. But what none of that explained was.

"Why are you laying on my lap!"

"I need to rest"

"You're milking this aren't you?" Lucfier states voice thin and even as he speak only feeling more annoyed by the whole situation at hand right now. "isn't it bad for the so called broadcast demon" He knew that wasn't the name Alastor went by he also knew they would hate him 'not knowing' his title as well. "to be seen in a so called weakened state?" He continues to probe a bit.

"You're lucky my daughter likes you or I'd be exercising my royals privileges all over you!" he says in a huff. Looking away for a moment before he looks back down to them, wondering if that fight with Adam didn't leave some lasting scars in the end. "...sooo healing..fine there Bambi?" He asks doing his best to sound as uninterested as he possibly can in that moment,