#thread length

[stump-not-found]

Did me sending that ask inevitably result in a poll with the overwhelming majority voting for bill to die, thus sealing his fate when it may have turned out otherwise had i not sent this question? have i doomed saved permanently affected us all? is Bill going to seek revenge upon my mortal soul for cursing his end? should i have never asked, thereby fucking around and finding out? i'm scared.. Find out on next episode of dragon ball z part of theseus' guide

here's the thing

[thearcherbrothersx]

Closed starter for @aftermiiidniiight / Muse: Declan Archer

He'd agreed to come by and pick her up this evening. He'd had a late meeting and she was out with friends not too far from his office, so naturally it made sense for his driver to swing by her venue on the way back to his place rather than have her make her way there later.

Declan left his driver with the car outside and made his way inside the club she'd told him she'd be at, his features maintaining the visual of ice; cool and calm. This despite the fact that his eyes visibly began searching the area for her as soon as he stepped inside. He looked entirely out of place, perfectly trimmed and kempt, dressed in a tailored Armani suit, a Rolex around his wrist. The sheer value of the man's attire probably surpassed the average occupant's yearly income. And yet he didn't seem bothered by the smell, the noise or fact that one person or other was intermittently bumping into him as he made his way through the crowds.

In fact, his expression didn't change until he finally spotted the gorgeous redhead on the dancefloor surrounded by several appropriately aged males, and at that point it was only for his lips to thin and brows to shift slightly higher on his forehead before his features settled back into that same indifferent mien. He watched her for a few seconds, considering the many different actions he could take, as well as the possible outcomes of those actions, before he turned around to leave.

[firestne]

at the devil's cask ( open starter )

he always picked the same spot, at back of the tavern with his cloak on, smoking a pipe and staring at nothing. for a man so used to disappearing he seemed so predictable in his quest to be left alone. well, how much can one disappear being stuck on an island for an unknown amount of time? these small gifts of peace is all he can get.

already in his second ale, the server didn't have to say anything to know what vidar wanted, which he appreciated. he was too tired to speak, even to a server he managed a grunt or even a yes or a no. maybe they've been on land for too long. or maybe his dreams were more active than usual, if he could wish them away he would've done it long ago.

as vidar let out another smoke from his pipe he saw a person standing in front of him, he saw them always towards but didn't react. didn't say anything as they stood in front of him, simply waited.

[silentwastelands]

STATUS : closed LOCATION : portum bonfire, walking the shore away from the commotion FEATURING : sam & open ( assumed connections welcome, or dm _rennaissance_ to plot )

THE BONFIRE WAS MEANT TO BE A DISTRACTION, sam knew this logically, but at the same time he couldn't help but be distracted. now that people were getting their abilities back, sam was hopeful this meant things were starting to look up, despite knowing deep down how naive that was. their abilities might be back, but that didn't stop the strange blood from appearing in the woods ⸺ nor the ritualistic looking wood arrangement that accompanied it ⸺ from weighing heavily on the back of everyone's minds.

still, sam was always one to find the silver lining in every situation, which is how he found himself walking down the shore. dark eyes were glued to the sand, searching, until he suddenly stopped, squatting to closer inspect the object that caught his attention. his hand shot out, fingers digging into the sand before presenting the object to the other with a lopsided grin. "what do you think? worth bringing home to the nest?"

[epihlogue]

@mythicalitiy asked: INVITED: receiver cooks for sender for the first time (Henry and Alex!)

To say that Henry was nervous was an understatement. He’d been studying up on cooking: watching all of the videos, reading all of the materials and he’d even asked Pez for some lessons. What if he couldn’t manage even this simple meal for Alex? He usually burnt everything, which was why before this arrangement was to occur, he’d insisted on researching beforehand. He didn’t want to screw things up with Alex because of a poorly done meal. It wasn’t his fault he’d been raised with no cooking knowledge and yet he couldn’t help but blame those in the palace who could have done better to help him survive on his own. Not that any of them thought he would have to do that, yet here here was in New York and trying to cook an edible meal for the guy he liked.

Henry took a deep breath, monitoring everything on the stove as he’d done so. He’d decided to go with something simple: pasta with alfredo sauce and chicken. Fortunately, the chicken just needed to be thrown in the oven after being season and the sauce was left to be heated up. The pasta was boiling away in the water and he had some breadsticks in the oven too. The salad was already done, something premade he’d gotten yesterday at the market to speed things along. He heard the doorbell and turned the knobs on the stove down, not wanting anything to boil or burn while he was away.

“Alex, hi.” They weren’t living together despite him thinking Alex would want to when he’d gotten the brownstone. No, for some reason his boyfriend decided he wanted the full experience of a dorm at NYU, why was beyond him. He remembered his dorming days at Oxford and let’s just say, there were some things he would have rather not heard. “Please, come in. Dinner is about to be finished up, so you’ve arrived just on time.”

[eyestoanotherworld]

{Continuing from here.}

"I don't really know what they have here." {Sulfur thinks for a moment.} "Anything barbeque would be nice? I'll take just about anything at this point, though. As long as it isn't a texture nightmare, yeah?"

[lovcrsrock]

closed for @thelcwless based on this.

cash never saw himself as the marrying type. the whole institution always seemed sick to him-- the teeth-rotting promises of forever, of love and devotion. the mere thought made him feel like he was suffocating on air. but look at him now-- married. to someone who is entirely unamused by his presence. it was a marriage of convenience, brokered by their families to finally quell a feud between them that had gone on for so long both sides had forgotten what it was even about in the first place. he doesn't blame jamie for any of it, really. he knows he's had just as little say in the matter. still, the look in his eyes hurts when a single glance tells him that he doesn't want to be around cash, seemingly shrinking under his new husband's gaze. so he leaves jamie to his own most of the time, a phantom in his own home, choking on the unfairness of it all. that is, until he notices a stiffness in jamie's limbs. a painfulness in the way he moves. " jamie. " his voice sounds too rough, too angry, entirely unused to expressing concern for another person. he's opposite the other in a matter of moments, has him caught between himself and the wall as his eyes rake over his husband's frame. " what's going on ? are you fuckin' hurt or something ? "

[ishikaxmehra]

closed to all (capped at 5/4) location: civic center

The grand ballroom of the Devil’s Junction Civic Center was alive with murmurs of conversation, the clinking of champagne flutes, and the smooth sounds of a jazz ensemble playing softly in the background. Ishika Mehra stood near the silent auction tables, her gaze drifting over the opulent setup—silken black linens, vibrant floral centrepieces, and a curated display of high-end donations meant to encourage generosity. The Sanchez family had gone all out for this event, crafting an atmosphere of both elegance and purpose.

It was the first time in weeks that so many prominent faces of Devil’s Junction were gathered in one place, the weight of Valentine’s Day’s destruction still fresh in the minds of many. Even amidst the laughter and easy conversations, there was an undeniable tension under the surface. The Kang family’s loss was still being felt, and with so many crime families in attendance, the night carried an unpredictable edge. Ishika adjusted the cuff of her tailored red dress, the deep emerald of her ring catching the light as she took a sip of champagne. She had spent years navigating events like this, but tonight was different. This was more than just a display of wealth and influence—it was a statement.

Her gaze scanned the room, searching for familiar faces, those she could trust and those she needed to keep an eye on. Some were here out of genuine goodwill, others to ensure their piece of the city’s future remained intact. Ishika knew better than anyone that charity, in Devil’s Junction, was rarely just charity. She exhaled slowly, then finally spoke, her voice steady and composed. “Let’s hope everyone remembers why we’re here tonight.” It wasn’t directed at anyone in particular, but she knew the right ears would be listening.

With that, she turned slightly, leaving the door open for anyone to approach—whether it be for business, pleasantries, or something far more interesting.

[vandrs]

i might regret this, but here is a starter call. it may be random, i might reach out to plot a little, who knows !

[justaprankhan]

@mountainheroine

That had been... awkward. Hannah herself felt all over the place, because in the span of a couple of hours she had found out the others were back, that Mike was dating Jessica and not Emily, Jessica was dead, and not long ago she had had to explain that being bitten by a monster did not turn you into one to keep Mike from shooting Emily in the face. She had seen crazy, horrible things in the past year, but this was exceptionally unexpected, even more than their return. And now she and Sam had gone after Mike to make sure he didn't get eaten in his rush to find Matt, since Matt still had a chance.

Sam. Her former best friend. The one who had somehow understood the prank was wrong, or she wouldn't have come to the guest room, but had decided not to intervene until it was done anyway. An enigma. Traitor. The glance she threw in her direction was more of a glare, but Hannah forced herself to keep most of her focus on their surroundings. She just wished she was better at coming up with mean things to say, but nothing witty came. "I'm going to kill the big one," she finally decided to say instead, "Some day I'll find a way to... make its soul or spirit or whatever disappear... but until then, I won't let it keep a body. I'm not leaving in the morning if it's not dead." Granted, five more minutes with Josh and she may lose sight of that.

[firestne]

outside nya's home ( open starter )

if her mother could see her now she would shake her head in disapproval with a fond smile on her face. her daughter, sleeping outside in the could rather than inside where she could make a fire and be warm but no, nya decided to watch the stars and the moon like a fool and before she could notice her eyes became heavy and she fell asleep in her chair.

in her defense she had a long day and could not recall the last time she got proper sleep. sawbone always had a new patient, someone who needed help or people that couldn't effort the coin for treatment and yet nya helped all the same because she cared about the people in this island.

and yet in an island that inhabited pirates she managed to fall asleep, what if she were to get hurt or robbed? her tiredness did not think of that when she felt asleep but she did jolt awake when she felt someone touch her shoulder, her heart beating faster. "what? who—"

[moregraceful]

anyway before i got extremo derailed tonight, i was reading neon's curated collection of quotes from a russian interview with klim kostin and it got me wondering if any nhl teams keep chaplains on staff. considering this is the league where they will not even provide translators or language teachers like 95% of the time, i wasn't expecting them to, but cursory research turned up hockey ministries international which appears to pair local christian church pastors with junior, minor, and major leagues and call it chaplaincy even though everything on their website feels like youth pastor jock version. also found this very interesting if christian-focused athletic article from 2019 about the roles of faith in the nhl which mentions 23 nhl teams having a chaplain on staff. but the entire framing around the hmi program and chaplains in the nhl seemed to be around christianity? which admittedly i have only experienced chaplaincy in relation to hospice or extreme crisis situations so maybe single-faith focused chaplaincy is more standard when people aren't like imminently dying.

all of which of course gave me one million more questions while i was doing the dishes. like -- inclusitivity 101 but if they hired chaplains with interfaith training at all levels would they start seeing more religiously and culturally diverse players. and was also wondering if, even though hmi claims to be non-denominational, what kinds of outreach they do for orthodox players like kostin (i assume) or vasilevskiy (mentioned in the article) because none of the language on their website felt ecumenical. and also what kind of spiritual care they offer players in player assistance -- i feel like it's not uncommon to hear about goalies finding religion and coming out of player assistance concurrently. and also the number of goalies themselves who are christian, which was particularly interesting to me, as in the article, most of the ones who self-identified didn't come to faith until adulthood or were deeply on the pro-league career track. i also think about like--like what are the ahl (or echl/sphl) chaplains doing for the players who were raised with prosperity gospel and the various threads associated with that

and these are all very fascinating trains of thought for me to chase bc i love thinking about how faith impacts our lives broadly and in my little hobbies specifically but what i kept getting stuck on is if the framing around spiritual care in the nhl is all christianity, who is providing spiritual care at each stop for nazem kadri, who is a practicing muslim

[ifindus]

can I ask for some söta bror angst/drama? (it could be about any historical event)

You know I'm weak for historical shit 😩 How about the Siege of Fredriksten in 1718?

The siege was carried out by Swedish forces at a fortress in the south of Norway, in a city bordering Sweden. It took place during the Great Northern War where Denmark-Norway and Sweden fought against each other and Sweden made many plays at Norwegian territory. Norwegian forces held a stand at Fredriksten fortress and resisted several Swedish attacks and an army of 40.000 men through 24 days when the siege was called off after the Swedish King was killed by a shot to the head while inspecting his troops. This event was also the cause of huge Swedish losses in central Norway where another invading army was forced to turn around after the death of the King, freezing to death in the Norwegian mountains.

[writermuses]

closed starter for @erstwhles

Lale had given Raleigh every minute he wanted with their daughter. If she ever even caught a hint of him missing the little girl or hesitating to ask for more time, Lale would suggest it. She didn't want to impose on his life, but Lale still felt like she had stollen so much of his time with their daughter. July 29th felt like a lifetime away, the surgery had worked and radiation was started a few weeks later, lasting seven weeks. Seven long weeks of worry, weight loss, tears over tummy pain, and panicked mother hospital visits. Lily had missed the entire first semester of school and then her doctor suggested she continue with homebound schooling for the second quarter to build back her immune system. Luckily, Lily loved going to work with Lale, tucking away in various places in the library reading her way through whole sections of the library.

Somehow, Lale had managed to keep Raleigh from seeing the rent-controlled studio apartment they had moved into after their time was done with Christopher's Haven. The loud neighbors and sparse apartment hardly felt like 'home' but the pair were never there often enough for it to matter. The library had been the safe base for a peaceful transition of their daughter from one parent to the next, but Christmas Eve was going to change all of that because Lily was insisting that Santa could't find her if she didn't sleep at Raleigh's, where she'd be spending Christmas Day.

As her vintage van pulled up to the address, her text message still unanswered, Lale worried that he would be mad she'd shown up like this. It didn't stop Lily from unbuckling herself from the booster seat and climbing out to run full speed to the front door, leaving everything in the van except her beloved bear, Pucky. While Lily wore appropriate clothing for a Boston winter, Lale donned a cardigan over a sweater, under a thin zipping hoodie and jeans. She was already shivering as she knocked on the door. Leaving Lily's overnight bag and the presents she'd made and purchased for Raleigh in the car in case he had plans. "He wasn't expecting you, so you have to be patient. If he doesn't answer or says no. Then we'll go back to the library and we can use the computer to email Santa again. Ok-" The question hung on her lips as the door opened to reveal the man she still loved. "Merry Christmas, Raleigh."

Lale's whispered words were buried under squeals of delight, that joyous sound their daughter always made when she saw her dad. "Merry Christmas, Daddy! I came home so Santa can find me." Swallowing, Lale let out a slow exhale through her nose, trying not to be hurt by her daughter calling this beautiful place home. "Santa's too busy to read Momma's email. Right?" Lale's green eyes fell from their scan of the place back to Raleigh's familiar hands and how they so gently held their little girl who now tucked her face into the crook of his neck while her small hand hands played with the chain of his necklace. Once again Lale felt like she'd stollen so much from him and that she was just an imposter on his doorstep. "It's up to you, but... I tried texting." Lale did her best to put her smile back on, but her voice remained soft, as if she was closing in on herself. "It's really beautiful."

[avdaciter]

starter — linus ryeo

SETTING: the docks by the water ; late evening / early morning AVAILABILITY: closed starter for HANSA NARONG | ( @mystvcs )

— FLASHBACK THREAD · last full moon —

Linus didn't know why   ,   but this time, it had been hard for him to find Portum's borders. As his bloody and tired figure crossed the magical threshold his wolf let out a painful howl. He ached all over. More than his body, his soul and heart ached. His wolf knew it. If there was one person he couldn't lie to, was to his wolf. Slowly, he approached the water, cold and ruthless, piercing through his brown and grey fur and chilling his bones as he slowly turned back into his human form. The moon hung low in the sky, almost hiding as the sun stirred the skies awake.

The chill, morning breeze had Linus cursing under his breath and hoping for a cigarette. The water washed his sins away, the red mixing with the dark blue. For a second there, he didn't realize he wasn't alone. Hansa's scent felt like a punch in his gut. Sweet and inviting, involting in broken promises, grief and a hesitant smile he was way too familiar with. He could relate with that. 

But it was actually one of her snakes that caught his attention, letting Linus brush his fingers along her head, before noticing the bloody still clinging under his nails, which made the wolf pay extra attention to that, before he walked out of the water and to the spot he'd left his clothes earlier that afternoon. "I thought you'd be home by now. Shorter nights and all." He said as he put his clothes back on. "Besides... it's fucking freezing out here. Don't you gorgons get sick?"

[portrait-paintings]

Self-Portrait, Behind a Parapet

Artist: Ferdinand Bol (Dutch, 1616-1689)

Date: 1648

Medium: Oil on canvas

Collection: The Leiden Collection, New York City, NY, United States

Description

Seated behind a parapet, his right arm resting with assured elegance on a richly patterned pillow, Ferdinand Bol commands the gaze of the viewer in this refined and fanciful self-portrait.

Bol portrayed himself in the foreground of the picture plane in a three-quarter-length pose, wearing a deep red and gold-trimmed velvet cloak, thick gold chains and medallion, and a black beret topped with a long arched feather. He exudes confidence and grace, and a bit of youthful arrogance.

Bol’s signature and the date of 1648 can be read on the paper he holds gingerly near the edge of the parapet. Against the muted brown background, strong contrasts of light and dark model his dignified form and reveal the varied textures of the fabric, particularly the sheen of the gold thread on his red cloak. His face is distinguished by a small moustache and goatee, while the brown curls of his hair reach his shoulders.