#luceat

[prplocks]

ᴄᴏᴍᴇʙᴀᴄᴋ: ʙᴀᴇ173

luceat

reblog if you save

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

[ravena-ohridska]

Can someone who understands linguistics tell me if the phrase "luceat siderum" really means "let the stars shine" or is Google translate lying to me?

[guttersniper]

@luceat said: you, stay away from the pot.

big eden.

underneath the pulled low brim of his hat, for it is still the days where people wear hats everywhere, mutt's firmly stoic expression morphs and pinches until it settles somewhere between offended and irreverent. his nose scrunches, and his eyes squint.

the look is enough. they've built this nonverbal communication through time. (for the non-native speaker, transliterated: this is the thanks i get for all those times i've helped you? not even getting the dignity afforded to a culinary guinea pig? che palle!)

to stave off the impulse, one no doubt ushered further along by the aromatics, mutt poured himself a cup of coffee from the moka always on the stove. he doesn't put anything in it -- a leftover, as much of him is, from the days when he was alone and at least he could find something even though it was only a cup of black coffee.

he stands nearby, watching the pot in nicky's brief absence. just in case, of course.

[vitalphenomena]

@luceat (x)

Sanitizing is finished and tomorrow's prep work is done. Louis has nothing left to do, as far as he is concerned (he rarely puts it upon himself to do something extra, such as somebody else's dishes); he is just whittling away at the clock, gaining a few extra dollars from hourly "labor" before the kitchen manager does their final walk-through of the back of house.

He is talking about dating apps, girls at the grocery store, men at bars. He is talking about how easy things are with Ezra Haven and Cassius Bairn, how nice it is to get laid and get out, how complicated things would be otherwise. (I wouldn't know what to do on a date, he confesses, and —)

Belatedly:

"You think I can't pay attention to people besides myself?" He asks curiously, as if he wasn't just so wrapped up in his own introspection that he almost missed Nicky's comment entirely. Then, his attention becomes rapt. He leans forward, attentive, but in a way that is remarkably patronizing.

"Tell me more about my romantic proclivities, Nick," he says, the name incomplete and insincere. "Since, I think, you know so much about them. Hm?"

[november-golf]

@luceat continued

Even for Manchester it's a beautiful night. Clear, with a density to the air. You can see the stars even in the city.

Not that Jibreel looks up. He, the angel, walks in step with the saint, set on looking where the saint looks.

Midnight Café. It's actually a kebab house, patrons, drunk, singing Sweet Caroline. There is another blonde, a potwash in the back, you can see them ending a phone call through the porthole. Dressed to match Jibreel, not in color but in style: the language that spells out whether or not one belongs.

Among the many things still in purgatorial stasis as chaos wracks the world is the building of an official embassy for the forces of heaven. Jibreel was it - this was it - the whispers and the response.

They find a clean surface and a sense of solitude. They sit, the condiment tray between them like a line in the sand...it becomes clear that this is going to be one of those transitions marked by a nebulous lack of ceremony.

His smile is fond, steady. "How's life?"

[rejectory]

@luceat *

Not my name.

❝Every night.❞

A cottage for what, huh. To be lonely in?

— No, no, no. Digging graves for anyone but himself. Anaïs. Jean-Pierre. Alain he wasn’t there for. Léon he couldn’t bury for the grief.

But bothering with a piece of shit’s send-off, that’s all Nicky.

He’ll shoot up salting the earth, shovel at the ready. Special rules. Makes him feel better, Booker wagers, when he’s exacting his own justice.

None of that, though, the ugly moment Joe takes his sweet time waking up. Down in Rieux-Volvestre, it had Nicky mad-eyed with the ancient rampage stuffed down the slim-necked genie bottle of his body. All morning, in denial. One wrong rub and he’d spill. He shoved two fingers into the mountainous forehead of his dear god looming over Joe’s body and flicked.

Booker saw another waiting crack in the ground then. But that one, he couldn’t. Would not. By the time Joe made it back, Booker had been wine-tasting his touristy way up North where his roots had rheumatized into a beast of the present as abstract as thoughts of Joe.

After, they wouldn’t hear from him for months on end.

He still has the bullet he would’ve tried his best with, round-nose. He would’ve put it in his mouth in the bathroom behind the shower curtain at the tried-and-true angle. You never know. Might get lucky.

❝For how many nights?❞

How many more?

He needs a little something for the hackles.

[tellwolves]

@luceat said: if you want to make a fool of yourself, i can’t stop you.

i remember mama.

" so call me a fool. " he's bent over to retie his shoes, causing the words to come out a little strained from the compression of his belly up against his knees. he taps them twice when he's finished.

finn comes back to his full sitting height, spreading his shoulders and using a hand to sweep his hair back into place. " these youngsters have no idea i'm the fort campbell dance marathon champion of 1956. " he won't hear anything about how that was nearly twenty years ago. that would only encourage him, besides.

he stands up, then bends so that his face is near nicky's to share this last bit in a half-secretive way. " fear's never been a word in my vocabulary. "

[noodledragon]

Art Fight Attack #9 - a chumby baby Argen and Luc for @404-alarnia-was-not-found uwu keepin our revenge chain alive

[sistersoftheforce]

@luceat​ asked  ‘ what fresh hell is this ? ’ {hux to breha}

“The porgs?” Glancing back at Hux, Breha momentarily let her attention drift from the feathered interlopers. She’d call them stowaways but that wasn’t entirely accurate. No, they had purposefully been brought on board and while Breha wasn’t any happier about them than Hux was, she also wasn’t about to toss them out the airlock.

No matter how much she wanted to.

“Those are Ani’s new pets...”

[solesnati]

"Unf" (from Cobb because the man has eyes and he can appreciate)

Send "Unf" if your muse finds mine sexually attractive.

just two Tatooine boys with working eyes

[jedigone]

»       @luceat​        *  

“ so much for not starting something  ”

[guttersniper]

@luceat said: the best way to survive a knife fight is to never get in one.

deep space 9.

he huffs, wry. " i didn't say i disagreed with you. "

(and he's not even going to get into semantics. they will always survive a knife fight. -- he also knows that it is more of a most likely. an until the day we don't.)

they're preparing potatoes for dinner. peeling and slicing and placing them into a bath to soak. he didn't see any trouble in using one of his own knives, seeing its cleanliness. he's always used them for more than simply fighting, defending himself.

mutt keeps to his own space, but near enough to nicky to be companionable. far enough away not to touch, but near enough to be pack. to feel the faintest hint of the warmth of nicky's skin seeping into his bones.

" only that, " he slices a chuck off his latest potato, and pops it into his mouth, careful not to touch his lips to the metal, chewing as he continues, " i've been in my fair share. and i'm still here. "

[vitalphenomena]

@luceat

"Tell me more," she says, dry but open. "Tell me more about your god." As if He truly belongs to Nicky. As if this is all there is - what Nicky now feels.

And maybe that's all she sees, after it all.

[lightfaithed]

“don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t exactly blend in.” (From Tala)

It did the trick on Tatooine. Obi-Wan had never stood out among the masses dressed in cloaks similar to his. People favoured browns and dark colours in the desert, dirt and dust was less of a problem this way. Only the wealthy managed to keep their white clothes in pristine condition by having them washed regularly. And so Obi-Wan's attire had marked him as neither wealthy nor particularly poor as he even had a cloak to call his own. Nothing noteworthy.

Tala was right though, this did not seem to work on the current planet. People dressed in all sorts of colours and Obi-Wan's drab look stood out like a sore thumb. He sighed and let his eyes wander over the numerous stalls that sold all sorts of clothes. "I suppose I'll have to go find something more exciting."

[dutyfcrged]

@luceat​ / anakin liked for a short starter.

             “How are things faring with your Padawan of late, Anakin?”  Obi Wan questioned, settling back into the seat on the crew carrier, intent on taking advantage of the time he had with his student to catch up and offer any help or assistance that might be needed.   

[tellwolves]

@luceat said: you have eaten?

i remember mama.

taj mahal spins on the record player. toby takes a deep drag from his cigarette. nicky's more likely to find a giraffe walking down tenth avenue than a new yorker who smokes with quite his dedication. in response, he makes a noncommittal whining noise, his free hand wiggling back and forth.

there's matzo ball soup in the fridge. eating it night after night is starting to get old. he wishes he could go with finn up to westchester, spend quality time with the dear girls and talk with the in-laws over drinks once they've got the kids in bed, then he wouldn't have to depend on food made before and left for safekeeping in the freezer.

it's a fair exchange: he's a misery at cooking, finn's a misery at instruments.

" we could go out? " he straightens up in his seat, a little, at the thought. " got dim sum on my mind. "