#˛⠀⠀🌊 ⠀⋆ ❪ threads ❫ ⠀ ⠀ ›

[essalis]

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 na ilha da circe !! escolhe um lugar da ilha mais uma frase da aqui, aqui ou aqui ou manda “☀️” para um starter aleatório dentro do evento!

colegas de quarto do evento: @zmarylou, disponível.

[captainseamech]

//should I let this ^ fool release steam like his original counter part or should I be normal?

[anemcia]

🌊 LIMIT: 3 TO 5 PARTNERS 🌊 ANYONE ALLOWED 🌊 FIRST COME, FIRST SERVED (Though I might be selective.)

Like/Comment or Reblog for a SHORT starter! Specify muse please, otherwise I am choosing at random. I’ll get to these through the ASAP, but please be patient with me. Motherhood comes first, so expect some delays! I will do my best to keep the threads going.

🌊 OPTIONAL: Want to plot with me? Shoot a DM and we can discuss the details from there! I’d love to do something worthwhile, but be aware this could have a longer wait time.

[multeasers]

since it's been a little while, please like this post if I can dm you to talk and / or plot stuff out, like new threads old threads or anything else :0 !

[nakika]

estar li ainda era um pouco estranho, quer dizer estava rodeada de pessoas que nunca viu na vida tendo que lidar com um pai que nunca foi presente e nunca seria além de ser um local totalmente diferente de onde cresceu, ou mais ou menos, a praia dava algum conforto como se ainda estivesse na ilha de oahu mas aquela não tinha monstros ao menos em nenhuma das vezes que entrou ouviu as vozes inquietantes avisando que estava em perigo e para fugir então podia se aventurar mais, o que se tornou um habito frequente sempre que estiva livre.

agora estava sentada na área, já tinha se secado completamente e apenas pensava sobre a possibilidade de que talvez conseguisse fazer um prancha e de fato começar a trabalhar no seu surf? tinha ouvido falar que as vezes as ondas eram grandes e agitadas. quando o som de passos indicando que alguém se aproximava a fez ficar um tanto tensa, naki não era antissocial mas se sentia um pouco estranha com os outros semideuses principalmente após ter sido tão inútil no ataque que se sucedeu ao natal. ━ ah... oi... ━ anunciou que a praia não estava vazia. ━ você deveria entrar a água tá muito boa. ━ acrescentou tentando ser simpática, seria bom fazer amigos mas não sentia muita abertura. ━ eu... já vou indo... quero dizer... já estava de saída... ━ anunciou um pouco nervosa ajeitando as coisas, não iria embora porque não tinha mais nada pra fazer mas não queria ficar ali e causar algum desconforto.

[denmark-street]

While enjoying a largely positive reception, @RGalbraith's #TheRunningGrave is, like other #CormoranStrike novels, apparently being criticized for its length - that it's too long for "popular fiction." But, respectfully, I think this view is misguided. The criticism is in part "generic" -- that is, having to do with the genre of crime fiction. Conan Doyle wrote short stories, Agatha Christie novels are modestly sized. And readers have become accustomed to thinking that "poplular fiction" comprises short beach reads. But Wilkie Collins's pioneering works of English detective fiction like The Moonstone (1868) are nearly twice as long as Murder on the Orient Express. TS Eliot cited the length of Collins's work as one of its virtues, describing it as the first, the longest, and the best of modern English detective novels." Most importantly, @RGalbraith / @jk_rowling is not, it seems to me, setting out simply to write "popular fiction" - the #CormoranStrike series ought to be considered in the tradition of the Bildungsroman, or Coming-of-Age Novel which examines the psychological maturation of its central character(s). And a more just comparison would be the socially aware novels of Charles Dickens, whose "popular fiction" averaged in the hundreds of thousands of words! Bearing in mind that Dickens published in weekly and monthly serials, the salient point is that his "popular fiction" aimed to educate readers about what he believed were the urgent social issues of his time -- and so does @RGalbraith. In conclusion, #TheRunningGrave may be too long for you -- and that's fine. But with its keen spotlight on cults, crime, domestic violence, & so much more (I wish to avoid spoilers) it is for many of us NOT long enough... And could have been at least one chapter longer!

[persefs]

all my pjo ocs / reworked / verses moots ... do u know how badly i want to smooch u all

[alllreturns]

closed com @princesarejeitada, no ccc.

Embora Allison tivesse suas diversas precauções com a magia daquele lugar, era impossível esconder como achava a criação de cômodos do C.C.C … bem, mágica! Quando ouviu que podia conjurar qualquer coisa, esperava algum tipo de restrição, mas estava aprendendo que talvez fosse literalmente qualquer coisa. Nunca foi muito atlético no mundo real, mas agora que não está trabalhando (ainda…) e suas pernas deixam de funcionar (e existir…) periodicamente, pensou que poderia fazer um treino, especialmente por acreditar que ninguém mais conseguiria acabar na mesma sala que ele. No entanto, ficou muito mais encantado com a quantidade de armas que a sala conjurou para ele. “Huh. Acho que é um tipo de treino, ainda,” murmurou para si mesmo, enquanto tentava segurar alguma espécie de machado. Não esperava, porém, que ele fosse muito mais leve do que ele imaginava, fazendo com que caísse para trás, dando de cara com Valentina. “Ah! Oi! Oi… É… Não sabia que”, começou a falar enquanto se levantava, com certeza tendo parecido ridículo naquele momento, “qualquer um podia entrar aqui… não que seja um problema você estar aqui, mas, você sabe! Eu não estava, eh, esperando companhia…” E agora parecia ridículo e rude, céus… “Que engraçado, como esse lugar funciona, né. Você já conseguiu encontrar essa sala aqui, antes?”

[petrifiedcrange]

There is one silver livining in what happened — my whump, hurt/comfort, angst-with-happy-ending loving self is gonna have the time of her life fix-itting the hell of that finale with Izzy barely but pulling through even though for the longest time they're unsure if he will pull through or not and every member of the crew, including Ed and Stede who barely leave his side, can have their breakdown about it but then he pulls through and they throw the biggest party in his honor and maybe just maybe Izzy finally lets himself believe he is truly and deeply loved and needed by his family

[monsieur-neuvillette]

💤

Send 💤 to see into one of my muse's nightmares

TW for blood/death

He’s walking in endless halls, painted red, looking for some way out, biting his lip and not feeling the pain from it.

An entrance, theres an entrance at long last, a way to escape, to writhe free and he runs for it.

Despite his running though, the door never feels like it gets closer, terror as his feet keep him in place, running but going nowhere.

He wills his feet to listen, to move.. and suddenly the door is in front of him, relief replacing it, lifting his shaking hands to push open the door.

Only into another nightmare outside, yelping as he’s practically shoved out of the door, the building disappears behind him as he collapses on to the ground.

He doesn’t understand what that was about but he focuses whats beneath his hands, grass… It’s soft but his nose wrinkles, its… Wet, warm and sticky..?

He’s disgusted to find his hands are coated in blood, it’s stubborn, it’s sticking to him, no matter how he tries to wipe it off, it doesn’t budge, it feels horrible on his hands. So horrible.

He’s on a hill, colorless except for the red sticking to his hands, the moon high in the sky, his gaze following the streak of red, trying to find the source of it and finding a body, which doesn’t surprise him but in the darkness of the night, he can’t make out who it is, his mind immediately assuming the worse.

He’s terrified, what if it’s Wriothesley? Or Nian? His heart drops at that thought, pushing himself to stand and walk over.

His heart shatters.

His thoughts were right, fear was correct, lips pressing thin as he stands before Wriothesleys body, shifting for a second before kneeling down, gathering Wriothesley in his arms.

Theres not a trace of how he died, no wounds, just a body, a body and blood that sticks to his own hands.

His fingers tuck a tuft of hair behind Wriothesleys ear, his gaze tearing up, stifling a sob as he pulls his mates body close, hugging him tightly, as tight as he could, his body shaking with cries.

Then, soft footsteps reach his ears, two pairs that make his heart sink.

Looking up, he sees Nian first, then Sigewinne, swallowing a lump in his throat as tears trickle down his cheeks, clutching Wriothesleys body a little tighter.

Nian cries, he can’t blame her, her dada has fallen, he shuffles slightly, opening his arm to let her come rest by him, so they can both be close to the fallen duke, his mate, her father.

But before the little girl can come over, Sigewinne stops her, a disgusted look on her face as she pulls back their daughter.

“This is your fault!” Sigewinne shouts, the words stinging him so deeply that he coils up, coiling around Wriothesley and pulling him closer.

“…how..?” His voice feels so small and so weak, tears running down his cheeks as he awaits an answer.

“You didn’t stop him, you in fact encouraged him, just because you couldn’t stand being alone. You drove him to seek out immortality and look at what you have done!!!”

Those words sting deeper than he could imagine, mind whirling as he stares at the lifeless eyes of his beloved.

It’s his fault. He made Wriothesley seek immortality, just because he couldn’t be strong and accept he would lose his beloved at some point… now he’s lost him far earlier than he ever should have, just because of mere emotions. It was his fault..

He wants to scream, the tears running down his cheeks not enough to express the pain in his heart, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth though.

Neuvillette watches Nian walk over, his vision blurry, wanting to reach out and hug her, comfort her, only to receive a slap that makes him retreat, it doesn’t hurt physically but it hurts regardless… yet he doesn’t blame her at all.

it hurts, pressing his forehead against Wriothesleys chest, feeling nothing, tears running down his cheeks.

He gathers Wriothesleys body in his arms and pushes himself to stand, stumbling as he heard both Sigewinnes and Nians— or perhaps his own voice disguised as them, telling him its his fault.

Then he trips.

He’s falling, falling, and he jolts awake with such intensity.

It’s raining hard, thundering even, and for once, physical tears stream down his cheeks. He glances at the side of the bed, covering his mouth to not make a sound.

Wriothesley is alive, his chest rising and falling slowly, he’s asleep, he thinks at least, quietly sobbing as he leans in and presses his forehead against his mates chest, feeling the heart beneath, tears streaming down his cheeks.

After a short while of being there, he pushes himself away, walking to Nians room and hesitantly peeking in, a boom of thunder outside briefly startling the scared dragon.

As he approaches her bed, he sees her, fast asleep, carefully scooping the little girl into his arms, trying not to make a sound as he hugs her, “I am sorry.”

He waits there for a few minutes, crying as he holds his daughter, before carefully placing her back down, making sure she’s undisturbed, tucking one of her plushies close and pulling the blanket to cover her, watching for a few minutes before returning to his own bed, letting tears drip down his cheeks as he watches Wriothesleys chest rise and fall.

He’s not gone, it’s not his fault yet. Not yet…

[heatherxmp]

Gruesome 🌊 ft. Hecate

Careful with him. Continued from this tense moment with @mphecate

🌊

    The student is dismissed and Heather makes a note to find them later on for a grilling from him as well. He might just gift wrap the kid and deliver them back to Hecate for the full scale of her scolding again later.

     For now though, he’s got the goddess herself nearer to him and he can practically feel the rage coming off her in waves. He stays still as she steps closer and says her piece, stance not aggressive but rather open. Either like he doesn’t sense the danger he’s in with her rage or that he is ready for it regardless of how it pans out. There are academic laws that protect him from her retaliation but he knows better in this city to think that will stop anyone from naturally reacting as their emotions dictate. The only reason he stays calm as he faces her threat is because he also knows her professionalism.

     To anyone else the way that Heather leans just a little closer to speak just to her might appear as just two professors discussing something about lesson plans in private. That’s just as well— they needn’t know the truth.

     “Grill the kid all you want, Hecate,” he says lowly. “I don’t honestly care because he needs it. But do it after his exam is done. He’s been in the library since the day before yesterday studying for the class you nearly made him late for.”

     Someone passes them in the hall and Heather gives a polite nod of his head to them before he continues as they walk away, “He’s trying to do better in that class so he’s acting a little out of pocket due to a lack of sleep. Doesn’t justify what he said to you but at least if he passes that class he is less in both of our hair later next semester.”

     The siren pulls back again and looks at her. Something lives in the way that his eyes take her in like a silent sorrow but it’s not pity. “About…that. You’re valid for your feelings and I apologize for the part I play in hurting you. Why do you allow it if it’s not what you want?”

[essalis]

𝑊𝐼𝑇𝐻: @tommasopraxis

𝑊𝐻𝐸𝑅𝐸: jardins

❛  meet me at midnight.  ❜ 

poderia reconhecer a presença da prole de thanatos mesmo de olhos vendados. talvez fosse o cheiro característico de lavanda e bergamota ou os reflexos mais apurados da santagar, mas a verdade é que quase podia sentir o ar diferente quando estava perto do semideus. mesmo que ele não tivesse deixado o bilhete com as instruções e ela tivesse ido ali justamente para encontrá-lo ela sabia, e ela desconfiava que o mesmo se aplicava a ele, quando era tomasso que se aproximava. os jardins, a meia noite, na ilha de circe contavam com uma aura misteriosa e sombria, talvez fosse quando ele se sentia mais a vontade, imaginou. — o bilhete, o jardim, o horário da bruxa. você estava tentando de propósito ser dramático ou é só uma segunda natureza sua? — perguntou, virando-se para encarar o moreno.

[captainseamech]

//*frenetic typing stops* wait, what do you mean people stopped putting names to their threads?

[anemcia]

//Gettin the tiniest urge to have Magenta as more of a guest muse on the blog. Would be kinda fun, considering I can have Flint fight with em' and generally just to have should anything come up where Magenta might be needed.

[multeasers]

only six more drafts 2 go here 😏

[nakika]

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ*closed starter with @andrearicci.

━ céus esse povo não aguenta beber nada. ━ julgou mais um semideus que após alguns copos vomitava, entre uma careta de nojo. ━ esse jogo parece meio chato você não acha? ━ naki comentou para o homem grande perto de si ao qual havia começado a bater papo casualmente. ━ mas que tal a gente jogar? só que com uma regra extra, além de beber tem que falar algo minimamente questionável sobre alguém da festa. ━ e com isso ela queria falar mal e fazer fofoca mesmo. ━ sem julgamentos claro, quem somos nós pra julgar?