#ty bri

[earthenterran]

Hey Terran! What were some of your favorite books you read this year 👀

Of the books I actually finished all the way through: Fifteen Hundred Miles from the Sun BY Jonny Garza Villa

^This was probably my favorite. It's a story about a long distance realtionships between two guys as they finish up highschool. It's got a good mix of conflict, it's fun, there are painful parts (there is homophobia but also a very good support system), and it's probably one of the fastest books I read through. I know the author has another book (Ander and Santi Were Here) that I definitely want to read as well when it comes out next year! I also enjoyed Parasite BY Darcy Coates. I went in knowing it was horror, and wanting to try that. It was a good dip in the genre I think.

Lastly, that I'm Glad My Mom Died book by Jennette McCurdy, she's a solid writer, and I enjoyed how she told her story. (I also reread Gideon the Ninth and enjoyed that)

OF THE STUFF I STARTED BUT HAVEN'T FINISHED: The Order of Time by Carlo Rovelli Rovelli approaches the concepts of time from both a scientific and philosophical approach, and it made the topic a lot more digestible to me that other science books I've attempted to read in the past. Sabriel by Garth Nix Okay, tbf I'm not super far into it, I've only started this recently, but it was recommeded by one of my best friends as its his favorite series but it gives me nostalgic to the books I read when I was younger, and the imagery is really good so far. I'm so eager to see where this story takes me, I already know I'm going to enjoy the rest of it.

I'm definitely excited to read more with the upcoming year, I have so many books I wanna get through. OH OH! Last thing. I did get to read the last volume of the Life is Strange graphic novel (been getting them by the volume, not the issue, so I had to wait until spring to read it) and... I've said it before but... oh, my heart. I will reread this story to the end of time, it healed my hurt from the game's... stuff. Didn't take it away tbc, but gave me new things to enjoy, new moments to love, and new characters to root for.

[galaxysketches]

GALAXYYYY DROP ANOTHER WARDEN INGO POST AND MY LIFE IS YOOOUURRRSSSSSS /j

i'm trying i swear

[prvtocol]

᠂ ⚘ ˚ Recom Brianne (@prvtocol) with twin son, Mi'kwel & Metkayina warrior San'tos (@badtrigger) with twin son, Mon'te ~ art by @badtrigger ᠂ ⚘ ˚

[nikodimopoulos]

save me from the dark ;;

LOCATION: an abandoned building near the california border FEATURING: niko dimopoulos, @stefanosxdimopoulos, @heyymikki

MENTIONED: @elliottortegax, @giovanniiricci, titan dimopoulos

TW: blood, death, mentions of torture, guns, etc

The hours ticked by one after the other, and while Nikolaos Dimopoulos was not the type to stand idly by, he'd recognized the importance of giving the benefit of the doubt from time to time -- at least when it came to his relationship. But at a certain point, at the twelfth hour of no word from Mikayla during her 'business trip' to Las Vegas, the location she'd shared from her phone still stagnant in it's position at the hotel she'd be staying at past checkout, he knew that something had to be very, very wrong. Though concern, worry, fear struck him to his core once the realization hit, he remained calm.

The type of calm that was often unsettling.

The first step was calling the hotel, offering up the name Mikayla typically used as she 'worked' under the guise of her personal assistant in need of an invoice. Thankfully, to his luck or perhaps his uncanny ability to sound convincing over the phone, it only took moments for the detailed receipt to be sent right to his inbox where he saw – Endeavor Property Holdings. Immediately his mind sprung back to the only place where he'd ever seen that name: Mikayla's article.

Jaw clenched tightly, his composure slipping for the briefest moment as he abruptly stood, the kitchen chair he'd been sitting on immediately toppling to the ground from the sheer force. Giovanni. This was all his doing, the silent waiting game they'd been playing for weeks now finally coming to a head.

He should have known, should have suspected this could be a trap. Foolish of him to think Giovanni wouldn't step outside the town line to conduct his sadistic fucking mischief, if only because he rarely did himself in all his years with Los Santos.

Moving to the office, he opened up his laptop and did a quick search for Endeavor Property Holdings, writing down each address registered with the company, cross referencing with the current operations, how long they'd been in business, any particular financials...until he came to an unusual one. A building that'd housed a small furniture store for a few years before closing up shop, and yet the address -- the Las Vegas address -- was still registered to the company.

Even better, Endeavor Property Holdings had been actively making payments this entire time.

This had to be it. And, if not it, then at the very least something.

Moving over to his bedroom closet, the male opened up his gun locker and pulled out two semi-automatic handguns, as well as a bulletproof vest, tactically strapping them to his person before pulling out his phone and dialing the only person he knew he could trust.

There was a temptation for Stef to just let his phone ring, irritation building at the sound of it vibrating as he pulled it from the pocket. Squinting at the screen in annoyance he only answered once he saw the caller ID.

"I need you for a job." Niko said by way of greeting, knowing Stefanos was the last person in the family that would take offense to his urgency. Closing up the gun locker, he pulled a thick shirt over the vest, along with a dark colored jacket, heading out of his room and towards the door.

There's relief rather than offense at the lack of pleasantries between them when Stef always preferred to get to the point. It's shown in his brief response, though part of him considered it something that his cousin should already know. "You got me."

"Small operation, but bound to be bloody. I'll explain on the way." Niko didn't expect Giovanni would house a lot of men wherever Mikayla was being kept. If anything, the less eyes, the better, even if this entire thing was sloppy. Perhaps the CEO was getting desperate. 

“Is it gonna be a long one?” Stefanos’ question wasn’t asked out of concern for himself, not when as long as he had time left to give it’d be given to his family without a second thought. Niko could have as much time as he needed, though the urgency in his voice seemed to suggest that time was of the essence.

“It’s ninety minutes out,” Niko replied, “if we’re smart we should be in and out in less than an hour. I’ll be there in five.”

Stef’s mind had gone to his dog, reluctant to leave him alone in case they got tied up, especially when the malinois had taken after his master a little too much with how few people he liked. But a plan was already forming in his mind without really waiting for Niko's response. “I’ll get someone to stop by for Titan.”

Stef fired off a text to his neighbour and with the minor obstacle now taken care of, the man sprung into motion. Vague grunt of acknowledgement was given to the few details that Niko provided, pulling out what he needed from his tightly organised closet accordingly. Nondescript clothes and a bulletproof vest. Guns and rounds were then stashed on his person, even picking up a small knife in case it ended up getting a little more up close and personal.

"And Stef? It's...personal," Niko swallowed thickly, getting into his car. "But I need you to prepare as a professional. Got it?" He spoke as he drove, his mind racing as fast as he sped down the highway as he worked to connect the dots, to strategize with the very limited amount of information that he had. Despite the worry – dare he say, the fear – that gripped at his chest in anticipation for the state Mikayla might be in, the brutality she must be experiencing, he kept a level head, a calm disposition. The last thing he needed was to lose his grip, and he was confident that with Stef by his side he could do just that. 

Another might have paused at Niko's next words, shown some hesitation or surprise at hearing the admission, pressed for details or remarked on the way that his voice seemed to have grown tight with emotion. But not Stefanos. He barely missed a beat before uttering his clipped reply of “Say no more.” 

The pair of them had always been similar enough that he felt safe predicting how his cousin might feel. If his twin had been his other half, possessing all the traits that he lacked, then Niko was his mirror image reflecting so much of himself back at him. It was maybe an assumption that the other would feel uncomfortable with his brief display of emotion but Stefanos knew that if their roles were reversed he'd have wanted to move on from the vulnerability of it immediately.

Final check was given to the space around him, ensuring he had what he needed for whatever lay ahead of them. Satisfied he was prepared enough for what they would face, he locked up and waited on his porch. “I’m ready.”

At five minutes on the dot Niko was pulling up to Stef’s place, and only moments later they back on the road and heading west, close to the California border. Silence fell over their drive at first, the former capo attempting to collect his thoughts before deciding it was time to give his cousin an explanation – at the very least, it would provide insight into what they were doing. The why of it all didn’t typically matter; whether it was Stef’s call or his call, there was an innate trust between them where they knew that whatever they were doing was necessary.

“You saw that article that came out a few weeks ago. In the Tribune, about Giovanni Ricci.” It wasn’t a question – of course he did. Stef had his ear to the ground just like he had. “The person who wrote it, she’s my girlfriend.” Niko’s eyes briefly flickered over to the other male, knowing that he’d divulged he’d been seeing someone but leaving it at that. “She went to Vegas last night, was supposed to be back this afternoon. I did some digging. I think he’s got her.” 

Niko shook his head. “I don’t think he’s stupid enough to take her for payback alone, I think he’s probably trying to get her to reveal her sources. She’s just stubborn enough not to give ‘em to him.” A slight, humorous scoff fell from his lips, his expression turning dark only a moment later. “I’m not planning on leaving anyone in there alive.”

Stef had little to say in response to Niko's revelations on their drive over, hardly feeling as though there was any need for his additions. Acknowledgement had been given when it was needed, the odd nod or grunt, finally speaking only when his cousin had made his intentions for the kidnappers clear. "You got it."

–

The building was a far cry from the boutique furniture store that was shown on a few old Google photos, but it hadn’t been hard to find. He turned his headlights off and parked on the very edge of the lot, Niko’s Bentley shrouded in darkness as the two of them cased the joint.

Two Escalades parked right beside the building, yet no one inhabited them. Gun drawn, Niko motioned for Stef to follow him toward the back door, pressing his ear against the cool exterior. Immediately he could hear the sound of two men speaking, the aloof, casual cadence of their voices causing him to tense up in anger.

A shoulder against the door frame, Niko held up two fingers to his cousin and then pointed towards the door, before motioning for him to come closer. His finger moved to rest on the trigger, his free hand wrapping around the metal knob, and he nodded towards Stef before swiftly opening the door and shooting the man on the left square in the chest whilst the other took the man on the right. 

Swift nod was given in response to Niko's instruction. Stef could practically feel the tension rolling off his kin. The stakes were high and emotions along with them but Stefanos had always been able to play at being the calm in any storm. Shifting so that he could take aim through the ajar door, he lifted his gun and pointed it where his cousin wanted, exhaled and shot. The thud he heard moments later signifying that he'd hit his target.

“Clean.” Niko complimented Stef as he stepped over the bodies, his boots narrowly missing the pool of blood beginning to expand out on the floor.

"Always." Humourless smile tugged at the corner of Stef’s mouth after his quip left it. Taking the life of another maybe should have been a heavier thing - the weight of a life was supposed to be something he carried around with him, wasn't it? - but Stefanos had pulled the trigger enough times it felt almost as natural as breathing. Nothing more than a reflex, an instinct now.

There'd be time for overdue guilt one day but in that moment he only cared about doing what Niko needed. 

Niko’s ears perked up upon hearing the sounds of frantic footsteps above them, and he nodded towards the stairs and began to ascend. Obviously these men were pure grunts, no substance by how frantically they seemed to be moving about. 

The sounds of gunshots were unmistakable, and they were getting closer. Mikayla should have felt some sort of relief that someone was coming for her, but the man in front of her eyes went wide with fear, a similar feeling taking her over. People did reckless things when they were nervous or afraid, and the gun in his hand and the frantic gaze between her and the hallway was enough to tell her this might not end well for someone. There was nothing she could do, her hands and feet bound to the chair beneath her – though even if they weren’t, the bruises and swelling around her body surely would’ve made escaping past the two men nearly impossible.

“You can get away before they get here,” she murmured in an even tone, hoping to reason with them. “You won’t get out alive if you don’t.”

“Shut up!” the second man hissed. In a few long strides, he made his way across the room to her, slamming the butt of the gun against her head and moving the gag back into place.

Once upstairs, Niko turned the corner to see one of the doors slightly ajar, raising his weapon and slowly pressing forward until he was beside the door frame. Through the opening, a man stood with his gun drawn, facing towards the inside of the room as he shouted commands to what sounded like another person. Brows narrowed and he listened a bit closer, the groans of a woman under duress becoming more and more apparent. He swallowed thickly. Mikayla.

“You.” Niko mouthed to Stef, gesturing to the man in the sliver of the doorway, squatting down low to give him a clear shot. “And then we…” He clenched his fist, motioning towards the room. Once he was confident that his cousin had the shot, he held his head down to allow him to take it, pushing into the room a moment later.

Standing tall, Niko pointed the gun at the forehead of the first man – the only man – that he saw, jaw clenched tightly as he realized that he was pointing his gun elsewhere; right at a bound and gagged Mikayla’s head.

Mikayla was afraid to move, to speak. The instinct to plead for her life grew more with each tense passing moment. She looked at the two men, one unfamiliar but looking so much like her boyfriend he could only be one of his many cousins, and then her eyes locked on Niko’s. She could feel the trickle of blood through her hair down the back of her neck, head swimming from the earlier impact.

“Don’t move a fucking muscle!” The grunt shouted, pushing the gun further against her temple. Quickly, Niko was able to deduce two things: one, based on his body language he could tell that this guy was nervous. He wasn’t told that there was a possibility of violence. In fact, none of this was anticipated – at least not this quickly. Two, there had been more people here only moments ago, judging by the way the room had been laid out. Perhaps Giovanni himself had also been here, perhaps they could even catch him if they moved fast enough.

However, for once in his life Niko wasn’t thinking about the smartest thing to do. He was thinking of what he wanted to do.

Stef moved into the room behind his cousin, instantly coming to a stop as he took in the scene before him. Brief internal debate waged, wondering if he should try to go after the others but the idea was quickly shot down when he caught how jumpy the kidnapper looked. One sharp movement from either of them could end in tragedy.

So he stayed still, reading both the kidnapper and his cousin's body language, never for a second doubting that Niko didn't have the situation under control. 

A sigh escaping him, Niko met Mikayla’s gaze for a brief moment, attempting not to fixate on all the pain and anguish evident in her wide-eyed stare. Stay calm. Don’t get emotional. “Close your eyes.” Niko advised her sternly. He looked back up at the man, a cruel grin twitching at the corners of his lips as he shook his head. 

“Amateur.” 

Niko took the shot, the bullet immediately piercing the kidnapper’s forehead and propelling his body backwards, blood spurting in all directions. Mikayla flinched as the gunshot echoed off the walls, blood and gore splattering across her face. A stillness fell over the room, and Niko quickly cased the area before calling back to Stef. “It’s done!”

Niko let out a large breath, pushing his gun back in his holster before switching gears, immediately moving to tend to Mikayla. “You’re okay, baby – hey, you’re okay.” His tone was soft, calm as he began to undo her binds, removing the one from her mouth first before working on her wrists, her ankles. “I’ve got you.” Once undone, he knelt down, meeting her at eye level and taking her face in his hands, his thumb brushing away the fresh blood that had just been spilled from her cheek. “It’s over, it’s done.”

Mikki’s whole body shook, the adrenaline of the moment coursing through her veins and washing the fear along with it. She had never stared death in the face in the same way she had tonight, and though she knew Niko had blood on his hands from his past, knowing and seeing it for herself were two very different things. He was lethal, and all of the warnings he had given her before about the kind of person he was finally felt real.

A sob ripped forth from her throat and she threw her arms around him, holding on for dear life. “I’m so-sorry. I-I-I shouldn’--” her voice cracked. “I shouldn’t have come tonight...”

Niko shook his head, squeezing her tightly, securely, in his arms. “This isn’t on you.” He assured quietly, his own cheek now stained from the blood that matted her dark locks. “None of this is on you.”

Feeling too much like an intruder to a private moment as Niko's attention shifted to his girlfriend, Stef made his way through the room towards where others might have made their escape. Methodically he checked the rooms finding them all empty - bar one. Two men lay within the last room, one with a gun in his hand, the other tied to a chair looking worse for wear. Decision was made quickly, shot fired at the kidnapper before checking on the man in the chair. There was a vague sense of familiarity that reassured him that he’d made the correct choice, relief felt when he could feel a pulse beating in the other’s neck. With a sigh he threw the man’s arm over his shoulder, balancing his weight before he made his way slowly back towards the lovebirds. 

He made sure his footsteps were heavy on his approach, not wanting to startle them or interrupt at the worst possible moment. Clearing his throat as he re-entered, Stefanos cut straight to the point, though the man he was propping up would likely have drawn attention regardless. "Assuming he’s with you?” Brow raised, question aimed at the woman before gaze moved back towards his cousin, confirming that there was no one else left to worry about.

Niko turned to look at Stef, another heavy sigh escaping him as he recognized the man passed out at his side. “Ah, shit.” He muttered. 

Hearing Stef’s footsteps, Mikayla looked up in time to see the man dragging an unconscious Elliott into the room. Another sob left her and she nodded, moving to stand and stumbling in the process. “Oh my god, what did they do to him? Is he alive?” She didn’t wait for an answer, instead making her way to them and checking for herself. He was beaten and bloody, probably as much as she was, but he was alive. That’s what mattered.

“He’s breathing,” Niko assured, following close behind Mikayla and wrapping a hand around her arm, pulling her closer to him in an attempt to keep her steady. He could imagine adrenaline was coursing through her at a mile a minute, knowing that she’d more than likely be in absolute anguish once that wore off.

“No sign of anyone else." Stef’s eyes traveled over the room, wondering if there'd be anything useful that they should pick up. But even with the option of evidence he had no desire for them to linger. "We should get out of here."

Niko nodded. “You get him in the back seat, make sure he’s still breathing.” His eyes flickered between Elliott and Mikayla. “They’re both going to need medical attention. We’ll tell the docs in the ER that they were mugged.” As much as Niko preferred to avoid formal hospital settings considering the risk of police intervention, he knew it was warranted here.

Taking one last glance around the room, Niko steeled himself and gently lifted Mikayla up in his arms. He met his cousin's gaze, giving him a knowing look – one that expressed all the gratitude that he wasn’t able to verbalize at that moment – before nodding to the door.

“Come on, let’s go.”

[jonathanbiers]

dbd is a horror game they said

me havin a movie date with ghostface

[furymint]

❗ for a frightened starter (and/or) 👫 for a reunion starter

starter prompts | header | tw: mild gore | wc: 1,403

Nolanel didn't know how much longer his legs would carry him. Filthy snow splattered under his step, and scorched metal sparked as his greaves struck their surface. There was nothing else left in the world. Even as the wind cut slices through the smoke, opening the greater landscape to him, nothing more lurked through its wreckage. If Garlemald was host to a single thing worth saving, it was its memory. Everything else of worth was dead.

Three bells ago, he would have regarded that belief as shortsighted. He had known what it was to love a land that despised him just for drawing breath in its glades and heights. Ruins could be as sacred as chapels, mongrel beasts so full of spirit, and buried trees as magnificent as the tallest belfry. The people of Coerthas were greater, stronger, and closer to the Fury than the patrician souls of the Holy City, and good gods Nolanel wanted to return to them instead of pretending the nearest Garlean with a blue collar could compare.

He wished he'd never met the damn woman. Perhaps it was penance that he'd meet the only decent cen who was—he knew it in his heart—certain to die. He'd spent the past moon with her silly laugh as a guide through asphalt and apocalypse. It was a good thing. When he nearly lost his footing and heard the monster hiss in sick anticipation, he knew he was spending his last thoughts on the wrong thing.

But he didn't want to be in this country, or to be among the soldiers who stared, or to have the frustration of seeing an enemy humanized. His drachen mail pressed into him with its familiar half-weight. In the only war that mattered, he'd never known the nauseating quiet of water as it boiled uninterrupted, free of comments made only to fill the time it took to truly think. It was a worthless nostalgia that she fulfilled. That was all she was. She wanted to kill him.

They had made a base in the processing center of a scorched and bloody post office. The bodies didn't bother him and he knew what to do with their open, bloated flesh, even as she stood in the doorway and whimpered her disgust. Once the ash at the base of a metal transport cart had been emptied, and the thing secured, packed, and fitted with steady fuel, he'd transformed it into a reliable furnace. Some of the corpses broke in his arms but all of them burned. The Garleans didn't have a god, she'd said, but they had pride, art, and industry.

A nation of thieves, he thought. Garlemald was full of punishments for every man still foolish enough to live in it—that did feel slightly like a god's hand. It made him believe that Hell was a larger place than he'd first imagined.

The thing chasing after him had seven arms. With each second, and each yalm that flew under him, it dragged its hulking mass forward through the snow. Cars snapped like twigs beneath the coarseness of its scales, and the heavy, oily stink of its saliva dribbled down its red front. There were horns on its head like the trunks of trees, a panting maw devoid of teeth, and a snake-like tail that beat the ground in its wake. Nolanel was thankful it didn't have a tongue to speak. The last thing she'd said was "sorry" before her pupils split into four.

He'd been strong enough for this sort of thing once. His legs didn't hurt back then—a year was long ago—and he feared nothing he could kill. Thinking was a manner of forgetting before this place. Now he thought nothing of that lake with the yellow pebble he'd found at its center, or the field where he'd pulled the lips of a ewe back for a bottle, or home. There was no name for that man his heart destroyed itself for.

If his ankles wanted to break, let them now. He crouched, prayed, and jumped. Aether screamed in his armor and burrowed in his bones. Every sky was Ishgard's sky, and this one was full of soot and snow and fire. Nolanel fit his body into the wind. A second passed, and he set his foot into the stand of Gae Bolg and plummeted.

The lance gored into the monster's skull. Ice scattered in knife-like shards. He channeled magic into the collision, pouring himself out like water, feeling the cold rise through his veins and empty into explosions of freezing force. It numbed and half blinded him, but before he launched away, the monster shuddered and paused as if it, too, was remembering something that could not matter.

Nolanel leapt onto the thing's writhing back and stabbed at its spine. The scales raised and cracked, but they did not part for his blade. He pounded ice into it as it garbled and foamed in a mania's thrall. Either it was dying or gathering strength, and Nolanel begged for a split or an end. The arms lifted from their scramble, open and cruel, and scored across its own back to mow Nolanel down. Long, ebony claws shred the scales into bleeding furrows.

With desperate accuracy, Nolanel pitched his lance into one of the wounds. Immediately ice crystals grew and burst, prying open the monster's body, tunneling through its meat to seize tendon and control. A spindly hand closed around Nolanel, lifted him, and hurled him into the road.

Metal shrieked loud enough to echo in his ears. He dispelled the shock quicker than the haze in his blurry eyes, and he panted amongst the gravel until he could lift himself. The balance was wrong in his armor—some of the prongs must have snapped—and there was nothing in his body that he could feel. 

The monster lurched toward him. Every arm quivered, overextended, hands open to grab, crush, and kill. The eyes bulged, thick with blood, and spread tears across its face. As if in echo of every groan, the fracture in its skull widened with the clamor of grinding ice. Its reason began to fail.

Nolanel let his strength drain into doubling its misery. The numbness in him gradually faded, letting him feel the cost of what he'd done to save his legs. It was as though his ribs had snapped from his sternum and curved inwards, crushing and stabbing every organ. He coughed and wretched, every breath too much and not enough, every color in the world pulsing with malice until he shut his eyes.

The monster slowed and whined. As it panted, its corpse-stench breath melted the snow. Stinging heat and hatred rushed over him but he did not stand. In his mind, he focused only on ice. Expand, pierce, stop it, halt the thing, freeze it, let it know what pain was before it dies. Nolanel squinted through the terror and cursed it.

One of its hands ripped Gae bolg free, sending chunks of ice showering to the ground. It flailed and sputtered, and its arm dipped low as vitality deserted it. With what seemed the last of its life, it flung Nolanel's weapon at the nearest building and shuddered into a twitching heap.

Nolanel tried to dismiss the ice. He squeezed his fists in the sign for finish, gasped and shouted for it to stop, while aether contorted wildy under his skin. Magic was not his place. The ice stayed in this world and it would make the same futility of his life as it did the one it already ended. He wondered if he should entreat fire or Halone—anything to close the siphon—but he already felt as though he were burning.

The great body of the monster settled to rest. The ruptured head sagged and spilled crimson viscera into the snow. Nolanel folded himself to the ground and tucked his arms against his chest.

Propeller blades thumped in the distance. He could not wait the agony out. No man could outrun a machine. His lance was a hundred yalms away and buried in muddy snow.

Despite every nerve reviling him, he stood. Old years were on his shoulders when he stretched them, obeying habit instead of his screaming brain. If he could not cast magic, he would walk, and when he could not walk, there would be a new question to answer.

[lightsiided]

‘what happened here?’

* thor starters | accepting

     to explain it all would take a LIFETIME. it seems like a small amount of time in theory -- five years -- but for rey, and the others who remained, it felt like an eon. even thor, for whom years pass by as quick as breaths, would likely say this period of time has been grueling, if asked.

"honestly... we didn't have many happy moments here." new asgard is a lovely place, of course. the people have always been welcoming to rey, happier to see her than thor ever seemed to be. but that never HELPED. few things did. "these years were hard on thor."

she winces as soon as the words leave her lips. what a stupid thing to say -- as if they weren't hard on sigyn. as if she wouldn't have preferred to be here struggling alongside thor. as if her life isn't exponentially more difficult NOW that she's returned. rey dips her chin, wondering if she should apologize. they don't know each other well, yet, and admittedly... rey has been unsure how to approach talking to her. she has a history with thor; they've known each other a long time. she was around far before rey was.

and they share the same grief. grief rey knows she will never understand. she never knew her family -- mourning their LOSS was different. less terrible, probably, than saying goodbye to someone you loved, who loved you in return. maybe that's why she's had such a hard time trying to find the words that will comfort thor. maybe sigyn will have better luck.

things have been better, since the others came back, but not the same. they still feel odd, the fractures in their relationship too fragile to just patch over. so some time apart might be good for them. thor seems to think so, at least, or he wouldn't be planning to go. rey tries not to let the thought turn BITTER. he needs this time to himself, she knows. she wants to let him have that, no matter how hard it is on her.

still, she won't be sad to leave this house behind. even cleared of beer bottles, with the windows open to let the light in... it depresses her. it is a reminder of some of their worst moments, and she DOESN'T desire to live in them, anymore. well aware that she's hardly answered the question, rey turns back to sigyn. "what will you do, now? with thor on his travels. i'm sure they'd be happy to have you here, but... well, you'd be welcome with me, too. though i can't say it will be very fun."

@victoriousfidelity

[blackestnight]

trick or treat! 🍬

send an ask with "trick or treat!" for a fic-related surprise.

the real surprise is that this one is NOT a wip or a ficlet...instead i am going to ramble at you about Thought Processes and Headcanons, specifically regarding this fic (that i remember you liked) and specifically ft @nuclearanomaly's bookshop/punk band au

jayne was like "yeah hanami's here she's a cryptid and fray's friend and she drives a truck and scares the shit out of everyone" which, tbh, is her ideal form. she deserves to be vaguely menacing in the background of everyone's rom-com plots. she and fray both live with sid and rielle, a collective which is known as "the heckhouse" (formerly "the hellhouse," but there's a kid living here, c'mon, watch the language). absolutely no one in the band knows what the fuck is going on with that house and none of them are brave enough to ask.

i definitely alluded to both hanami and fray having had some kind of problems with alcoholism in the past, although tbh i still don't have anything super specific in my head about their early friendship (other than "they met when fray passed out from exhaustion after a 14-hour shift at a children's hospital while doing his residency and hanami literally tripped over him in an alley while she was walking to the parking garage and asked if he was dead"). i wanted to give them the "edging on unhealthily codependent" vibes that i Adore in any fray+wol dynamic, though. you can't fix them and whatever is wrong with them is more compelling anyway.

the entire heckhouse dynamic is great, though, because they all bounce off each other in the funniest ways. sid and hanami performatively hate each other but are also first in line to drag each other out of trouble, fray and sid are ride-or-die eternal partners in crime, rielle bullies everyone in the way only a twelve-year-old girl can.

family outings are fun too.

random classmate of rielle, pointing at fray: hey, is that your dad? rielle: no...? pointing at sid: oh. is that your dad? rielle: gross! no. pointing at hanami: well then who's that? rielle: THAT'S my dad.

[newty]

WIP File Game

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet (or sketch, if for artwork) or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Tagged by @asamis-jodhpurs! i dont Name any of my fics unless im forced to so theyre gonna have whatever my email draft is titled

the light i hear ch3 🏠

blue light new 💎

raffles 👥

eli poetry scraps ☠️

nol eli kiss stuff 💯

wwi au duck hunt 🔫

nol nightmare 🐉

miracles 💤

first au - gal and sun ☀️

clo village 🐟

gonna tag some ffxiv friends!! @aethernoise @nuclearanomaly @karoiseka @blackestnight

[haematicspectre]

Tagged by @deankarolina to post my top 9 albums of 2023 🥰💞

IZA - AFRODHIT // Heejin - K // Shygirl - Nymph_o // Hozier - Unreal Unearth // Carly Rae Jepsen - The Loveliest Time // ODD EYE CIRCLE - Version Up // Chuu - Howl // Loossemble - Loossemble // ONEW - Circle

I've listened to a lot of amazing music this year, so I'm going to limit this to my most listened to albums released in 2023... Which is highly predictable (4/9 are LOONA)...

I feel like this is simultaneously a great representation (my AuDHD means I listen to a set of songs on repeat for hours and hours) and a poor representation (I have listened to seriously so much music this year) of my listening experience haha - Alas!

Anyway, pls listen to Ghareeb Alay by Elyanna and Balti 🇵🇸

I am also always always always open for music recs :P if you want to make one of those Spotify mashed up playlists, I'm also keen!

[alara-kahya]

My darlin', I'll be all you need (you need) I know it hasn't been your day, your week, your week, your week So put it all on me (woo) Oh my darlin', put your worries on me Can't judge me 'cause I feel the same thing And I'm here for whenever you need, you need, you need To put it all on me

@nathaniel-donovan

[miunshxne]

playlist: scorpio • come closer (leave me alone)

[galaxysketches]

Happy birthday. I’m too shy to say it, but I hope your years are wonderful and you get plenty of water to drink. Thank you for being such a wonderful artist and giving my life meaning with your art. It brings me joy that you have such a lovely style. Even outside of Ingo and Emmet. Happy birthday

waah!! oh my goodness I legit teared up reading this, you have no idea how much this just made my night 😭😭😭💖💖💖 tysm for such kind words anon! <3 I really appreciate this dearly 🥺💖✨ and i hope you have a lovely day! ;v; ✨✨✨

[prvtocol]

˚ ⚘᠂ bri & san'tos᠂ ⚘ ˚ [commission by @malotte00 ; san'tos belongs to @badtrigger]

[furymint]

wc 641 (this ask was sent to my insp blog @unforgettablesilhouette so just to keep my writing in one place i copied it here! thank u @houserosaire!)

"What," Nolanel grunted, "are you doing?"

Elliot strengthened his grip on Nolanel’s hand. "You needn't question what you know—it dulls your understanding of the world."

They strode side by side in one of the brackish portions of the city, where the closely paved walkways of the Pillars began to twist into the impaired streets of the Brume. Lights in Skysteel make hung over the path towards the sector's barracks to guide ale-drunk soldiers home, but as soon as the sun fully set, the rest of the road would be lit only by the windows and brazier fires of the shops.

Nolanel tried to jerk his hand away. "Instead of chaffing me, answer me why," he griped.

"I'm fond of you," Elliot declared. "And walking with you remains the highlight of my days."

Sarcasm soothed Nolanel no further. "Let go of me or I will make a scene."

"The Horde would agree to peace sooner."

"Are you more ill in the head than we knew? Do you see anyone else here making some pathetic show of their affections like this?"

"Not exactly. You're also not looking deep enough." Elliot pouted. He tugged Nolanel toward the center of the street to skirt the collection of low tables and chairs that made a bistro's veranda. "The people don't know you here; you've never been here—"

"Baseless certainty will be your death one day."

"Yes, and I'll march to my grave completely blind in the belief it is my salvation! Now stop pretending there are knives at your neck and start looking at the stars. They're beginning to appear."

Nolanel tried to yank himself free again. To his own annoyance, he could never purposefully harm Elliot or allow himself to appear as trapped by sick enjoyment as he was—so his strength was not in him as he lifted his arm and punched it suddenly down. Elliot dipped readily with the force and leaned against his shoulder. Spite prevented Nolanel from enjoying the warmth.

"You may be correct about the people here knowing me, but what of the agents among them? My aether is poisoned with the inner dragon. The Inquisitors need to see no more than that."

"Be realistic! Hypocrisy may be strong among them, but the Inquisition is abounding with inverts. They're the ones who require intervention from a saint—preferably Raphael, what for their tools, lest—"

"Gods, be silent, afore I scream. The Inquisitors do not look above their caste to sell himself as the adored pet of some nobleman with a penchant for uniforms."

Wagging his free hand dismissively, Elliot shrugged, "If the Tribunal were looking for such a pair, they would find more than one here."

Nolanel finally paid attention. The strip was lined with brasserie, cafés, and dwellings, all of them twinkling with activity and rumbling with the voices of men. Of the knights posturing at the rim of counters or alone against walls, few of them lifted their concentrated eyes to him. They watched Elliot.

Others were long engaged in conversation, drink, and games, while women with slack hairstyles prodded those who stepped too close apart. Smoke cycloned behind the windows of one bar, then rushed into the streets as a laborer threw open its door and hollered a greeting.

There were too many alleys and too many people who stood on the lip of their darkness, like effigies of temptation, to feign some occupation while they waited for another to approach.

Nolanel returned Elliot’s grip with force, causing Elliot to laugh. "'Tis not myself I intended to shield, but you, ser. We wouldn't want anyone to think you could be had."

"Still—"

"I know this area, which is why I've brought you to visit de Charlus' little place. He boast the best madeleines. Nevertheless, if anyone offers you a cigar—"

"You're making this worse," Nolanel cringed.

"You'll love it."

[hermitmoss]

I am bad at thinking up questions but I *am* deeply curious now about the multiple Brider timelines 👁

Brider being my original Jedi OC, she exists in all of my star wars AUs, including ones set in the PT, where she's an Archivist under Jocasta Nu.

If Order 66 happens, she either dies immediately, ends up turning into a spooky person-eating forest on Iridonia, or becomes the Sixth Sister, an Inquisitor who sounds so reasonable and logical that you almost start to believe what she explains to you...

If Order 66 doesn't happen, she ends up becoming the Archives Mistress.

There are also time-travelling Briders, because this is Star Wars fanfiction. The best time-travelling Brider is the one who is a ghost working with the Resistance and pretending to be Leia's aide.

And there is, of course, Brider Surriss, Third Barsen'thor.