#ARC. TBT.

[nancyrelocated]

DAWN READIES TO SPLIT ACROSS THE SKY, a mouth opening to yawn. they've been working a little too long, though Nancy swears every few hours she can go a bit longer before resting. lord knows the cramping in her fingers refuses to dissipate, a dull throbbing that keeps itself around as a reminder that she, too, is HUMAN. absently, she rotates her wrist as a stretch, then playfully knocks her shoulder into her partner's. ❝ when we get back to the office ( ... ) i can work on calling some folks ? i know a woman who's got her hand in too many honeypots -- shes bound to have heard of Cressida's company.  ❞ BAD BUSINESS AND TOO MANY BODIES UNDERGROUND, OR SO EVERYONE SAYS. ❝ you wanna take another go at her safe ? i'm happy to trade - off with you whenever... ( a pretty beat, a small glance. ) you're also welcome to spend the night, or what's left of it.  ❞

NIGHTTIME LIFTS LIKE A VEIL. slow and steady, the lilts of house sparrows, lazy and sweet, break the early - morning silence. he [ @atleur ] looks at her, the woman can feel it: his gaze is as warm as ever, and he knocks his shoulders with hers once more. ❝ you are a gem upon mars, Miss Drew ( ... ) and twice as beautiful. ❞

the detective feels herself almost tense at the knees, a brushfoot butterfly trapped in her ribcage. she catches her lip in her teeth and half of a smile blossoms almost too easily. You're a sweetie, you know. says she, allowing her eyes to roll playfully. ❝ i want to get as much done as possible before retiring until later. y'know how i am ... this gem upon mars feels like we're on the brink of a breakthrough.  ❞

[oddly-casual]

Trolls band together spoilers

I like this thing Viva has going on with her cape being her safety blanket. Especially since it’s literally a patch of fake grass which could also be used to camouflage herself.

Like we’re introduced to her with it on, but only when she finds Poppy and gets excited does she take it off, like rips it off.

And it stays off for the whole song. It’s only later when Poppy starts asking Viva about their separation does Viva visibly get uncomfortable and puts the cape back on as she leaves.

That cape stays on even when Poppy and them all leave. The last time we see it on is when Viva appears with Bridget to help in the fight. She admits she’s freaking out but she takes her cape off anyway and it never comes back.

It gets flung in the water, sis had no intention of getting it back. But I think that’s really cool because this was Viva putting herself on the line, taking a leap of faith for people she loves even when she’s lived in fear for so long.

[murdermade]

@fleshcarverfugitive from here

Deep down, Orin knows that this woman is not the source of her pain but it is hard to think straight in the middle of a mental breakdown. Her entire world is coming crashing down and if Amalica had keept her mouth shut, none of this would be happening.

Her own dagger is gripped in her hand, raised as if she's going to thrust the thing through her but something gives her pause, the way she cries out that she is trying to help her distracts her enough that the Changling isn't stabbing her yet.

"Help me?! You destroyed me! Everything I have done....you're telling me it has all been for nothing?!"

[indigobloom531]

Velvet's Villain Arc

(I am obsessed with the way they animated Velvet's face here, it's actually a problem)

I dunno about the rest of you, but one of the best things about Velvet being the villain in Trolls Band Together is that there's no rhyme or reason why she's doing what she's doing. Velvet captured Floyd and tortured him for fame for zero reason other than her own selfishness.

In the scene where Velvet wear the shoulder pads for the first time, the filmmakers try to fool us into thinking that Velvet does these things because her and Veneer were poor when they were younger and just wanted more in life. But after that, as you all probably know, Veneer explains that they weren't poor at all, and actually lived in a good home in the suburbs with parents who had well-paying jobs, yet Velvet still continues to torture Floyd.

Nowadays every villain (especially kids' movie villains) have to have some sort of tragic backstory to explain why the villain is evil. But for Velvet there's nothing. She's just being evil for being evil, and on top of that she manipulates her twin brother into doing it with her while taking advantage of his love for her. For these reasons, this makes Velvet one of the best villains in history.

[crownshattered]

|| ….i made banging Grelle and Ciel playlists and now I already want to add them….

[taleswritten]

@myrkulsapxstle sent

A package and letter are delivered to Orin, the missive sealed with a symbol of Selûne and written in slightly heavy, yet deliberate hand:

Orin the Red,Best wishes for this year's Winter Solstice from both myself and the rest of the Thorm family here at Moonrise Towers. What remains of it, anyway. I trust you are well? I've yet to receive another letter from you -- though I cannot tell if that's simply because of the Couriers being delayed, or because you've grown weary of reading my ramblings in response. In either case, I should hope this is both on time and not too painful to read. As I reflect upon the last year, and our time together entrenched in divine schemes and away from them, I find myself proud of who you have become. Watching you turn from the Dread Lord's schemes and become who you desire to be has been nothing short of gratifying - and I hope you feel just as proud of yourself. You have done all the hard work, Orin. Take some time for yourself this season, would you? And do not forget that you are always welcome at Moonrise - as you are. I hope the package I've sent along with this missive meets your standards, and assists you in taking some time for yourself -- I will await your judgement.Yours, Father Ketheric

In the package, the box wrapped neatly in silver and reds, are some new metal hair decorations and clips ( can some of those hairpins function as weapons...? ) in a polished wooden box, cushioned by a greyish-blue blanket - soft and warm, and the perfect size for Orin to wrap around the whole of her body.

A small card gave details - the blanket was made of fleece, and came from the city of Cormyr, on request ( and upon the recievement of payment ) from one K. Thorm.

Happy Holidays!! // (post game companion ) Ketheric / @myrkulsapxstle to (redemption) Orin :3

The package and letter both find her with ease, though the poor courier gets quite a fight when Orin receives the letter and gift with a dagger in between her teeth, still coated in red.

Apparently opening the door while cleaning the dagger of blood is a terrible idea. He shoves it at her and runs away as fast as he can, leaving Orin to cackle with the dagger in between her teeth.

She goes back into her home to open the letter with her dagger and read it. Her heart warms as she reads it, especially when she reads the way he signs his name as 'father'.

The letter is wonderful and it makes her smile before she's turning to the box to open it with the dagger as well. She tries not to get blood on any of the items inside.

She tosses the dagger to the side and it lands with a clank as she shifts through the box. The hair clips are beautiful and she takes them out to tuck them in her hair. It feels right, too.

The blanket causes her eyes to light up in happiness and she throws it around herself. It's warm and fuzzy and she could sleep cuddled up in this thing but first....first she will write him back.

She gets off the floor with the blanket wrapped around her shoulders and moves to her desk where ink quill and paper await.

Dear Father,

Thank you for your gifts. This is the first time I've ever gotten a gift by someone I can call my father. It's....weird but not unwelcome. Once upon a time, I thought my heart cold and dead but it warms me to know you think of me as a daughter.

You are the father I never had. I hope you know that. Even with my inclination to lead little lambs to their death, you have always accepted me.

Thank you. I have attached something for you in turn, I hope you like it.

Your Daughter, Orin

Attached is a painting of his beloved wife. Someone she has studied to get just right. On the bottom of the paper, signed with her name, is a note.

Your wife would be proud of you, Father.

[starchanged]

What if... *Turns Penny into glitch trainer*

[winterreigned]

a lot of Sansa haters like to say lady dying foreshadows her death/demise but it’s actually just the death of Sansa’s innocence. she grows to no longer aspire to be that proper lady, just to survive. it may even foreshadow that she will no longer be a lady, but a bastard (in the vale/books) and eventually a queen. seems Sansa may lose that lady title…

[fanforged]

beneath a sheen of black and crimson, qian's gaze simmers. she doesn't know how long she'd gone without her gear, but its weight draws a single bead of sweat down the nape of her neck. now, a willowy, prison - starved shadow of herself, she feels as green as she'd once been when first donning the armor. but, still, it makes her feel strong. it makes her feel connected to avatar kyoshi and the warriors and her village and the person she used to be.

she wonders, as she looks zuko in the eyes, why she feels so alone.

" i'd heard the fire lord's son was arrogant — that he was banished for disrespecting authority. but i suppose it only makes sense for that to extend towards those he wields authority against. " she sneers, a splitting image of kyoshi herself. " you destroyed my life. "

@banishmark asked : ' you seem somewhat familiar. have i threatened you before? '

[murdermade]

@harpershigh sent

From @harpershigh to Orin Verse 3 (redemption arc)

Jaheira’s hands moved slowly through Orin’s impossibly long hair, the soft brushstrokes feeling heavier with each pass. How had it come to this? The Chosen of Bhaal — Sarevok’s own granddaughter — sitting before her as if she was just some regular girl, while Jaheira, of all people, tended to her.

Bhaalspawn.

Murder incarnate.

Her enemy in every sense, and yet... Jaheira couldn’t shake the pull of something deeper, almost nostalgic.

She thought of Abdel Adrian, the man who had defied everything his blood had demanded of him. He had been a Bhaalspawn too, destined for a path of death and destruction, yet he had chosen life. He had chosen to rise above what was expected of him, and Jaheira had loved him for it. Deeply loved him. She looked at Orin now and wondered, could this woman — this undeniable threat — do the same? Was there more to her than what she had been born to be?

But as much as Jaheira wanted to believe in that possibility, doubt gnawed at her. Orin wasn’t just a risk to the camp; she was a danger to the world. It was foolish to hope. And yet, how could she not? After everything she’d seen, after everything she’d lost — hope was all she had left. Even if it was dangerous. Even if Orin could never escape what she was.

As Jaheira's fingers gently untangled Orin's hair, she couldn't help but wonder how much of this woman's life had been stolen by blood and violence. What kind of childhood had she endured, growing up under the shadow of Bhaal? The world had likely never shown her the simple joys, the warmth of love, or the peace of a carefree moment. Trauma had shaped her, robbed her of everything good life had to offer.

Sitting here, brushing her hair, Jaheira couldn’t see a murderer.

She saw a girl.

Perhaps lost, perhaps too far gone, but a girl nonetheless. A girl who had been denied the chance to become anything but a weapon.

Perhaps, just like Abdel, this girl could defy the darkness that had shaped her. Maybe standing by Orin, offering her a different path, was the right thing to do. After all, if Abdel could rise above his heritage, then perhaps Orin could too — if she chose it.

Hope.

It had the power to change everything, to lift the broken from despair and reshape the world for the better. But it could also destroy you, leading you down a path of false promises until there was nothing left but ruin. She had seen both outcomes too many times to count. Hope could be a dangerous thing, as much a blade as it was a shield. Still, she found herself hoping — fiercely, desperately — for the first outcome. But the fear of the second gnawed at her, a shadow she couldn't quite shake.

She could only hope.

Silence. The woman is unusually quiet. There are no insane ramblings or hissing or threats. Utter and complete silence as the woman works her way through her braids.

Her entire world has been flipped upside down. Bhaal had been everything to her and to be faced with not just the idea but the fact that he didn't care about her? She wants to crumble, she wants to break, she wants to scream and cry and stab things until she feels better.

Instead, she sits here, letting the druid brush through her hair. Showing her a kindness and a love that she has never had before. It feels motherly, in a way, and that thought alone makes her want to crumble.

How many years has she longed for love? How many years has she spent killing in the futile attempt to win her father's love and instead she had been met with nothing but silence. As if she'd be screaming into the void. Maybe she had been this entire time.

And here Jahiera is, giving her a love that seems so easy to give for the druid. Is it really that easy? She;'s tried to kill her and the party over and over and yet, she still shows her care.

Orin doesn't know how to handle it. A part of her wants to jerk away and hiss at her like some feral animal. A bigger, deeper part instead places her hands in her lap and allows the woman to tend to her long hair.

"I..." When she speaks, for the first time since Jahiera started, it is quiet. No longer the murderer she had been but instead the girl that Jahiera sees. A quiet hesitant voice. What does she even say? What does she do now? Where does she go from here?

"......I can brush my own hair." It sounds rather pathetic, a part of her is trying to push the woman away before she, too, can turn on her and yank that care away like some kind of thread meant to be snapped.

It's not what she really wants to say, though.

"I don't know where to go from here. Father never cared for me, did he?"

[divinechain]

"Now I’ve got something I want to protect. It’s you."

for duty is love. // ೃ⁀➷ fanmail.

they exist between silent but knowing glances, lingering touches, and unsent text messages. the lines between duty and love ever blurring the more time the two spent together. sleepovers that become too frequent. a hand tightly latched onto another too many times. a kiss that never should've happened. a rose brush is growing in minako's throat - scratching at her insides while she deliberately ignores usagi, its rose petals filling her lungs and slowly suffocating her. during training, she finally takes her simmering frustration at herself out on the wrong person: the leader drills into ami far too hard for her lackluster attacks during a practice spare with rei. the other teen nearly looks on the verge of tears once she's done before usagi and makoto supportively rush to her side, a displeased scowl washing over their faces in the process.

minako can practically hear the ' what's your freaking problem? ' that's about to be thrown her way from makoto until rei speaks up to quell the incoming fight before it can even start. ' we need to talk. ' is all that's said before she pointedly looks between minako and the exit of the idol's private gym. with a huff unbecoming of her role, minako picks up her gym bag and storms out - although not before pettily slamming the door behind her as faint arguing could be heard behind her. she instantly regrets yelling at ami by the time she gets to the elevator, already whipping out her phone to text her assistant about sending a bouquet to her home tomorrow afternoon as an apology. she also blocks out a few days next week to take makoto and ami out individually, pushing recording sessions and photoshoots back to prioritize her friends.

the soldier sighs once she steps outside and is exposed to the chilly, evening air. ugh, stupid minako... she kicks at the air in frustration, annoyed at herself for both forgetting her dumb jacket and also losing her cool due to her own scattered emotions. she was supposed to be the leader. she was the one who was supposed to keep it together in front of everyone! minako can't help but dramatically sulk as she flops down on the sidewalk to wait for her incoming lecture 'talk' from rei.

it isn't long before her second-in-command comes out...but instead of being faced with anger like how minako was expecting, there's a soft look of understanding on her face as rei studies her over.

' you probably wouldn't think so but i get it. ' rei speaks quietly, the way her dark, raven hair blows in the wind somehow making her look even more ethereal than ever before. ' after we all...remembered, ' her brows knit together at the word and the pair both hold in a quiet, sharp breath together; their memories bonded them together but not all of it was pleasant to relive. ' things were awkward between mamoru-senpai and i. but...we talked. he listened to me and i listened to him. then we both talked to usagi. '

' ....and? ' minako voice is quiet, petals in her chest threatening to burst from her mouth and cause her to choke on the spot.

' and now...we're in a better place. ' rei said simply before she looks down at her with a shy, sympathetic smile. minako chooses not to comment on the faint blush that's blossoming across her cheeks. ' i think...you should talk to usagi as who you are now and not as venus. b-but you do what you want of course. ' rei finishes with a flick of her hair before she crosses her arms.

ah, there it is. minako thinks while she desperately tries to hold in an obnoxiously loud snort. classic tsundere rei. her friend is already moving back to the entrance to minako's condo before she has a chance to respond to her advice, ' remember to apologize to ami for tonight. makoto too. '

' yea, yea, i know. ' minako confirms with a guilty wave of her hand. ' already on it. and rei? ' her second looks back, listening attentively, ' tell everyone to just get ready to spend the night, it's getting late anyway. '

' alright. you coming up soon? '

' soon. and thanks rei. ' rei's response is a haughty huff that makes her lovingly roll her eyes before the front door shuts and minako's alone again, staring up at the moon wistfully like she was lovesick. she leans her face into her arms and sits there alone for who knows how long before the sound of the front door opening gets her attention. she doesn't bother to look up - at least not until she feels a jacket being draped tenderly over her shoulders and when she does, moonlit perfection greets her.

' here, it's hot chocolate! ' usagi is beaming down at her like nothing is wrong, picking up and opening a thermos by her feet that's nearly overflowing with marshmallows and what looked like graham cracker crumbs sprinkled across the top. it looked incredibly unhealthy...and absolutely delicious. minako instantly wanted ten. ' makoto made it but i helped! ' usagi explains as she proudly watches minako take a sip of her cavity-inducing concoction. minako pauses as she lets the taste of sugar linger in her mouth, a milk moustache on her lips before she squints at the drink dramatically before giving her 'review': a rapid, theatric nod in approval that has both girls hollering with laughter.

usagi happily sits down next to her after the laughter dies down, hesitating slightly before she scoots so close to minako that their knees touch. ' we were worried. a little mad too...but mostly worried. ' usagi states carefully as she takes the thermos out of minako's hands and steals a sip of her own.

' i know. i just... ' minako replies, popping a marshmallow from the thermos in her mouth while she tries to best explain her feelings. she closes her eyes when she thinks about that night: the two of them alone, nervous with excited, heavy breathing and intertwined hands before their lips are touching...and then a memory of a princess stabbing herself through the gut cuts through the moment and instantly kills it. ' i thought about the past and i got scared again. '

minako's blue eyes are hard as she opens them again and stares forward out into the distance, refusing to give into the urge to cry. slowly does she feels the touch of her princess taking one of her calloused hands into her own as a tear begins to fall down her cheek. ' i don't want to be scared anymore though. ' she whisperers quietly as the two lean into each other, her tears being wiped away by the very person she was supposed to comfort during times like this instead.

' when you're scared, tell us - tell me. ' usagi whispers back as if she could read her thoughts, gently caressing minako's thick hair as the young leader cries on her shoulder, ' i want you to rely on me too because...now i’ve got something i want to protect. it’s you. '

minako's breath hitches at that, instantly watered by her words as the pair clutch onto to each other tightly in the night. she can feel the weeds in her throat slowly wither away and while she's not completely alright, she thinks she'll get better.

[10shadowd]

merry 2024 here’s a shitty vessel megs doodle

[taleswritten]

@fleshcarverfugitive sent

A package with a letter attached arrives to Orin: the letter written in a neat script and sealed with silver wax.

Orin, I trust this finds you well - or at least not painted red, at the very least. It's been some time since we've traveled together, but I hope the world at large has treated you kindly since our squid-infested misadventures. I hope you've found peace somewhere beyond the confines of the Undercity. Gods know you deserve it. Attached to this letter, if the Couriers didn't lose it, should be a package - a present for the Solstice. I hope the contents serve you well. Come see me sometime, my friend. I'm always happy to host you.Yours in truth, Magistrate Amalica Dryaalis

Indeed, there is a package alongside the missive, wrapped in deep blue paper and wrapped in silver ribbon. Inside? Paints and brushes, along with a small canvas ( or two. Or three ). And, of course, since Orin would be Orin no matter what - a spider dagger was laid beside the brushes. The weapon was made in the exacting nature of the Drow, with razor sharp edges and had a hint of magic about it.

The same one that laid upon the altar of Lolth at Stormshore Tabernacle, belonging to House Dryaalis. Orin would put it to better use than Amalica, after all.

Happy Holidays! // (post game) Amalica / @fleshcarverfugitive to post game (redemption?) Orin :3

Settling into a life that isn't full of murder has been hard but Orin finds she has made a good life for herself. Her art, as gruesome as it can be, has many worshipping her for her talent.

Paintings are sold with ease and there is always something new to paint. When the urge to murder gets too much to bare, she does what she does best - assassination. It turns out an assassins guild would love to have a changling for a member.

She only takes assassinations that she believes are for completely irredeemable people. Amilica's voice urging her to be good instead of evil often plays in her head.

Perhaps one day, she will even give up the life of an assassin.

When she returns home, the box and letter are on her doorsteps. She picks them up and slips inside her home with ease before she begins to look through the letter and the box.

A small smile curls the corners of her lips as she reads it and then wastes no time in opening the package. She is overjoyed by what she receives. An artist can never have too much paint and her own dagger had begun to dull. This is the perfect gift.

She settles down to write a letter for Amalica.

Dear Amalica.

I got your gift. How very thoughtful of you. The paints will be put to good use and the dagger is perfect for slaughtering meatsuits. Do not worry, I no longer kill innocents. I assure you, these people deserve it, and I do love watching them squirm and beg for their life.

Perhaps I will visit sometime soon. Dare I say I have grown fond of you? Do not get used to hearing that, it will not be said again.

Perhaps I can bring gifts, too. None of the fleshy meat kind, of course.

Attached to her own letter is a drawing. One that is surprisingly not gruesome this time around. No, instead it is a portrait of Amalica down to the very last detail. Proof that Orin can paint other things that isn't entirely gruesome, though another thing the drow should not get used to.

[galleylads]

—a dual muse rp blog brought to you by tino!

FEATURING: PAULIE & ICEBURG OF GALLEY-LA COMPANY

✶accepting of multi muse, crossover, and oc blogs✶

low activity. anime focused. text based for now due to lack of icons.

est. July 2023, please read rules before interacting. ⸻ strictly interacting only with those that are 18+ years of age. minors are not welcome on this blog.

**please HEART or REBLOG if you're interested in interesting with 2 halves of 1 loveable idiot**

[dreadgrace-a]

‘you court death with far too much persistence.’ | @starlyht

Lark simply laughs, Sol'rys' displeasure dripping from her like the beast's death-spray. His caution had gotten both what they wanted. Life and death. Death and life. Her bloodlust is sated for now. Father in her is satisfied.

She grins at the drow. Is the blood in her teeth the minotaur's? Hers? Or something far more unfathomable to the likes of them? ‘We all court death. You, I, Wish, Shadowheart, even Gale. It is our nature; why should I deny that?’

[mrsforger]

twiyor is so in love huh (re: that last chap)