#S4INTS.

[narrated]

nathanael makrov ; i talk when i'm nervous. i'm gonna shut up now.

the ship is simultaneously too quiet and too loud. he's accustomed to how the walls of the mantis hum when the engine is running, the difference when it's in regular orbit or hyperspace. it's lulled him to sleep most nights in the past three years, settled him down from a panic attack, grounded him when memories become alive. an inescapable tinnitus rattling in his ears, just a fraction louder than the hum of the force and its fractured discordant melody. and yet there's something missing: the voices of his family. cere, greez, merrin... all gone on their own missions. leaving him once again alone in a ship far too big for him and bd-1, leaving him once again feeling like the padawan stumbling through the corpses of republic ships.

❛   wait—   ❜ he says, turning the pilot seat around. @s4ints is already halfway out of the cockpit. they certainly hadn't gotten off to a good start, with cal ready to dump him at the nearest port after deciding he would tag along. they're still not close, but simply the presence of another living breathing being has made the ache inside him start to settle. cal sighs, running a hand over stubbled cheeks, before replying, ❛   you... you can stay. i don't mind, truly. it's nice hearing someone else talking.   ❜ he keeps the last bit unspoken (i haven't heard anyone's voice but my own for a while).

[vullcanica]

@s4ints : ❛ vehicular arson is not the answer. ❜ / hob for matthew

"If you don't wanna get busted it is." Matthew intones from Hob's left shouder, peering down to watch him pick up the red pen again and annotate a paragraph. Well shucks. He'd liked that one. "You know, it used to work for those sicilian guys back in the day. Ever watched The Godfather?"

It isn't often that he gets time away from the Dreaming as of late. Dream's a hardass, rigid kind of boss who he can effortlessly convey the sentiment of immeasurable disappointment with a single look or word, so Matthew tries not to shirk his duties too much. And if he does, he makes sure its within vicinity of Mervyn who attracts Dream's displeasure like a magnet. Lately, though, he's made a habit of visiting Hob. He's a good, calm man, the Inn is a nice place for people watching and in the evenings Matthew can settle down on the counter, in the nest of an old scarf, and help him grade university papers. It feels like a morsel of his old life, but better, more mundane and less wrought with misfortunes. Besides, Dream isn't nearly as sullen whenever he comes to fetch him from Hob's doorstep.

Matthew watches him underline another paragraph in red. "Aw c'mon Hob, give the kid an A. It's got flair!"

[pre1ude]

🎼 for hob and / or eshaq let's go

for hob 💙

[flmed]

the forgotten, almost childish beam is hidden underneath the calloused palm, however she still could see the rose tinted cheeks that are emerging bashfully upon the compliment––––––it has been few moons, or years perhaps, that he let himself to relishing a momentary indulgence for surviving the desolation of mankind . . . liquors are merely catalyst tools for effervescent happiness but the ingenuity of happiness always come from loving interaction 'twined with amorous flirtation, whether it is deliberate or not, but it is a reminder that he is not a shell oin the trench, but a person on the ground, coiling to the sense of reality; of how it used to be, but could never return to how it used to be .. remnants of what's left, or perhaps something to reclaim once again,

@s4ints, frieda said, "i've never heard your laugh before. i love it."

‘ you should have met me before the war––––––i was much tolerable &. handsome, obviously, ’ wiggling his eyebrows as he raises his glass to his lips &. sipping an equal amount of audacity to return the same woo she has spoken to his ear .. cheeky simper, vehemently shaking his head disapprovingly within self because he let himself to be swindled by a jest &. compliment . . . but it felt good, it feels good, that he could be the ghost of how he used to be, or the person that was waiting within the dirt with their burnt hand above the ground; dangling &. expecting someone would pull him from the everlasting dread of being dead, &. taken to be alive .. perhaps she has made him feel alive, even if it feels iniquitous because she may have wanted her husband laughing alongside with her .. but it's the laugh she recognised, &. loved it that doesn't come from her husband, but the husband's comrade before he got burnt alive, ‘ but i guess, i still have it in me .. that a little boy. he still lives, apparently. ’

&. PLAYFUL AFFECTION

[tsareviich]

@s4ints continued from [x]

he should be scared of him and some part of him is. he was the monster from the shadows. the person that caused the downfall of his family. but, some part of him, was still just a man. and vasily refused to let himself be scared of a man. he still... was. but the darkling didn't need to know that. it was definitely better if he didn't know that. surely that would just give him more power against him. and vasily didn't want him to have anymore power over him. " you're one to talk, mister i love to hear myself talk. " a pause, tilting his head. " and i think you're confusing me with my brother. he's the talker. " then again, he was proving the darkling correct at this moment. but vasily didn't care. " and i know you've met my brother so you can even pretend you don't know him. " he tilts his head again, like a confused puppy. " and come on, you can admit some part of you enjoys my company. "

[conheaded-a]

              relaxation is uncommon for him: a man on the move, constantly running, a race to a finish line that doesn’t exist yet, but it’s different with @s4ints​ ,  it always has been.  they lay intertwined, connor’s face buried in her hair, breathing her in, his breath slow, steady before he retreats, the warm darkness of sleep slipping away, losing the battle of desire to look at her, to make sure she hasn’t left yet as the first rays of light begin seeping through the window panes; casting a soft orange hue over the duvet. she glows as the sun kisses her skin, and connor is in awe of the warmth that pools around her.   

              if he were artistically inclined he might ask her to stay still, might paint her wrapped in white sheets hair splayed across the pillows in a way that reminds him of wings outstretched. instead he tries to memorize her. eyes dancing over every perfect imperfection.    the sun could hold no candle to her.

after last night, i think i'm in love with you.

              starstruck look slips into something else: something more reserved. softness melts away the same way he does around his father, his siblings, when they jab mercilessly at insecurities in a way only family is capable, before his expression hardens.

            “ willa, don’t. ”    he says quietly, after a moment, hardly longer than the pause between heartbeats, he repeats it sternly.  “    — don’t. ”   a seriousness to him that could rival logan himself. it feels cruel. like when he was in boarding school, when a girl would ask him out and then go back to her gaggle of friends to laugh and giggle behind his back. when his love notes were passed around like cheap cigars, their hushed voices just loud enough for him to hear. what he means to say is : i won’t pay you to say that;   “ you don’t have to say that. ”

       what he means to say is : i can handle that lie from anyone else, but not from you.

[xhatake]

no 1 for the expression meme 😳

don't ask me about his hair

[abusedog]

maybe it's not the BEST thing to say to a bride to be , much less when the groom is your own BROTHER , but you can never be too cautious when it comes to a marriage . ❝ you know , @s4ints , you can TELL US if he's holding you against your will or something ... ❞

sc.

[khrused-archived]

INJURED MEME WITH: @s4ints [ re: sasha ]    ,    ... " 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞? "

it  is  her  instinct  to  hide  ──────  to  shrivel  and  turn  away  from  his  inquisitive  stare;  but  there  is  no  hiding  a  busted  lip  nor  the  blood  that  had  trickled  off  her  chin...  still,  her  head  lowers  in  shame,  sore  lips  pursing  tight  in  an  attempt  to  hide  the  wound  as  a  lie  clambers  its  way  up  her  throat  yet  lodging  within  like  a  sob.  instead,  she  shakes  her  head  and  tries  to  blink  away  the  tears  still  lingering  from  fear.  "  it's  fine  ―  i'm  fine,  sasha...  "  she  tries  to  dismiss  it,  tries  to  move  past  his  firm  stance  in  a  quick  retreat  ―  not  yet  able  to  reveal  her  shame...  and  yet,  instinct  collides  her  into  his  chest  ―  impulse  leading  her  hands  to  clutch  at  his  shirt  as  nature  allows  her  tears  to  fall  and  sting  at  the  open  sore  splitting  her  lip,  "  ―  it  doesn't  matter  anymore...  "

[lunarfey]

@s4ints sent: not that i officially added her yet but isobel & kenzi 👉👈 / prompt, accepting.

vomit / don’t ship / ok / cute / adorable / perfect / beyond flawless / i will ship them in hell

listen, i already know they're going to be a power couple.

[narrated]

jonathan sims ( @s4ints ) — ‘I played god once and it did not end well.’ 

what an oddly specific lesson to try and impart on someone. casper wished he didn't understand what he meant by that. the other man, the other avatar. that was the word, right? for what they were — avatars of some bigger power trying to influence humanity. at least he didn't get the fucking eye one. sure, his boyfriend died, he has a giant scar on his face, and he would never go back to a sense of normalcy... but now he knows it could have been eyes! ❛   okay, well, i can tell you right now that isn't in my plans. so don't worry, you won't have to lose any sleep over me suddenly turning evil.   ❜

[vullcanica]

THEY ARE A 10 BUT they need to be nicer to me >:( (todd @ nik ofc)

He hums in a show of consideration, all illusion of sincerity killed by a faint curl of the lip. "Insolent, nightmarish housemates can't be choosers. Be glad I remember to feed and water you every day."

[pointm4n]

your honour i present to you - ✨ THEM ✨ / ft. @s4ints

[pyreshe]

all I do is think about g.rishaverse livvy crying her eyes out as she tells aleksandr smth along the lines of "you were my father in every way that mattered and I loved you! I wanted to be like you! you broke my heart, and I can't even hate you completely for it-!"

[kellm4n]

            there is a certain amount of paranoia required of them to do what they do, gerri had learned that early on, to stay on her toes, to wait for the other shoe to drop. it’s helped them stay afloat in times of crisis, and so when she looks at greg and decides he’s up to something, she feels that conclusion is a justified one.

          @s4ints​ doesn’t remind her of logan, not really. he is more like baird had been, trying to play big dog. if she had to guess, if she had to put a read on him, she might say he’s hiding something, some sharp edges beneath that soft bellied display.     he’s been useful, helpful even, but he’d played his cards right in their first interactions, betrayed tom by revealing his little coup, his meeting that had no cause other than harm. she wonders idly if he believes she owes him for that. perhaps she does. but that is something he will have to ask her himself.

❛ i guess it runs in the family, huh? ❜

            calculating gaze flickers over gregory hirsch : not a roy. adjacent perhaps, but not like the kids. it’s the same way she or tom is family, only when it is beneficial.    “ you’re suggesting the general . . . asshole-ness is genetic ? ”    he wouldn’t be wrong.

[mysfated]

trembling  fingertips  glide  along  the  silken  edges  of  death's  ,  @s4ints  feather  ──────  her  bones  aching  with  each  shallowed  breath,  each  moment  a  step  closer  to  her  end...  "  i'm  reaching  out  to  you...  "  she  whispers  breathlessly,  voice  more  a  painful  whimper  than  a  plea,  "  ―  can  you  hear  my  call?  "

starter inspired by lay me down by sam smith