#THIS NIX

[nixetra]

[harbours-lighthouse]

Jason Todd with a gf who isn't good at replying to messages. It's not that you mean to be rude, it's just that you're busy and often you forget about the notification that only lights up your phone's screen for half a second. Besides, if what you're being sent are memes and random tiktoks, then those can wait. But when Jason Todd jumps into the picture? That habit of yours is a problem. At the beginning, you were on top of things, replying in a timely manner—then you got comfortable, and the habit crawled back into your life. The first time you let a message from Jason go unanswered for nearly an hour, you were left with your door hanging off by a single hinge, the wood splintered. You purse your lips together, watching the door sway precariously. Awkwardness bubbles inside your chest, though you're half-convinced it's more of the desperate urge to laugh at the ludicrous situation you're in.

Turning slowly to face Jason with your hands on your hips, you grimace at the tense line of your boyfriend's shoulders and the tightness around his mouth.

"Um...well," you clear your throat. "We know that the door isn't okay, but are...you...okay?" Jason's sigh is laced with a wariness that's bone-deep and you wince, face scrunching as regret stabs through you. You throw him an apologetic, weak smile. "Sorry..." It's safe to say that you put in the effort to consistently answer Jason's texts, purely because you'd rather like your door to remain intact, and to prevent your boyfriend from using his body as a battering ram to get into your apartment.

(And to dodge the long-winded, passionate lecture about how important it is for you to respond to him. It worries him, okay?)

[yekokataa]

Nix Gottlieb is very much based on a real person. With the house Luiks interited there came a bunch of black and white photos. We started using these photos as blueprints for characters. All real people, all deceased by now. And one of them was a picture of a man with monk’s hair, glasses, and this strange, strange smile. This was a drinking buddy of Luiks' father. If you had to describe him in a sentence you would say ‘one horrible cunt.’ Absolute terrible fucking human being, but also a legend in this drinking circle back in the day.

This is a real story: there's a party that Luiks’ dad is at, and this guy ‘Nix’, he’s an actual doctor. Somebody at the party complains of a stomachache and Nix touches his stomach and diagnoses him with appendicitis. He literally takes him into a bedroom and operates. He cuts out his appendix and it turns out it’s close to the point where it’s going to explode, so it was very good that he intervened at the last moment. Two days later this person runs into Nix on the street and thanks him. And it turns out Nix was so drunk he has no memory of it. When he finally understands it’s not a prank, all the color drains out of his face, because what are the chances he didn’t kill the person by accident?

There was so much about this real person that was not an adaptation, we just put it into the game.

– Argo Tuulik

[elpurata-victim]

thank you ellie for this idea

[gollancz]

Vampires vs Werewolves, ft. Joe Hill, @victoriocity, Aliette de Bodard, Ben Aaronovitch, Oraine Johnson, Garth Nix, @sarah-hawley and @jonnywaistcoat prevaricating like he knows any answer will be used against him in the future.

[thenixkat]

Idk about anyone else but Chilchuck being accurately read as an empty nester rather than a deadbeat dad has a lot more potential. Cause generally empty nesters tend to find or end up with folks to parent or pets to fill the void of 'my kids don't need me anymore', 'the house is empty/too quiet', and such.

You could argue that the older man who started a union and is a union boss looking out for the other half-foots in the area might be subconsciously viewing folks as replacement kids.

[n1xxi3]

sighhhhhhhh

fine

i have had SO many ppl DM me about my lighter post oml

so

if this gets 1000 notes i will TRY to not SH for like... 3 weeks?

yes this is purposely high i dont want yall to reach it

tagging some ppl just because @justaboymadeofhoneyandglass @aesthetic-writer18 @iris-flower1019 @a-t1r3d-b1s3xual @thequeen0fhearts @acid-eating

[travalicious]

Lirael by Tommy Arnold

[fyeahnix]

Sevika is known as "Zaun's Scariest Woman," but when she's alone with you, she could give the sweetest, most innocent dog a run for its money.

------

Sevika barely uttered a word when she came in that night. You thought to scold her when she didn't greet you as normal, but judging by her rigid shoulders and perpetual scowl, she'd had a particularly crappy day.

When she finally finished her longer-than-usual shower and night routine, she clambered into bed, reaching to pull you closer before burying her head in your chest. She sighed, then inhaled, then sighed again.

"Hi, baby," she finally said.

"Hey. You...feeling better?"

She nodded and tightened her grip around you. "'m sorry. Didn't mean not to speak earlier. Wasn't mad at you or anything. Just...had a day. Needed to unwind."

You brushed strands of her loose hair out of her face. Innocent strokes traced arcane marble, massaged her skin until you journeyed to train fingers through dark hair. "You know I'd help you with that if you asked."

She buried her face deeper, muffling her voice. "You're helping a lot now."

You smiled.

Having moved to lay between your legs, Sevika rested there, nuzzling her nose into the side of your breast. She breathed. Deeply.

You sat with her for an unspoken amount of time, feathering your nails across her scalp and down her neck for the occasional shiver that rolled down her spine. She wasn't sleeping—not yet, anyway, even in the dim, amber-lit bedroom you shared—but soaking in the comfort. For a person like Sevika in her line of work, high stress was a given, an expectation. Day in and day out was a fight for survival and a fight for freedom. There would always be days like this, where she'd come back to you in one piece but her mind shattered from the day's events, where she'd search for solace in your embrace to help piece herself back together. You always regretted destroying that modicum of peace with the same probing question that came to mind.

"You wanna talk about it?"

Indignation colored the breath that escaped her flared nostrils, and she slow-blinked into the distance. You'd seen that expression enough times to know what fueled it. She left the question to linger in the air. You respected it.

She reached for your free hand. Pulled it close and kissed your knuckles one by one. Then pressed her lips against the heel of your palm. Another. Then another. And on and on until she inched higher and landed in the center of your palm. Like a meditative process, the motions calmed her, relaxed her facial muscles 'til serenity returned to take control.

"Not now," she whispered and motioned closer to fit her scarred cheek between your collar and neck. "Just wanna lay with you."

And so you did.

Silence overcame once more and for a time you lay still, only interrupted by the sporadic moan that escaped Sevika as she succumbed to sleep.

------

taglist: @gaudesstuff @archangeldyke-all @abitohoney @sexysapphicshopowner @iamaboringrattat

@ash-fall7 @the-anonmaton @peanutbutterprincess @thesevi0lentdelights @kylorey25

@thegothicchangeling

[the-nerdy-fangirl]

Sorry Miguel, but “I took the place of a version of me that died to live the life I thought I deserved” is not equivalent to “I saved a few lives in another universe and would like for my dad to not die in mine please” Dawg.

[nixetra]

"average zaunite commits 2 war crimes per year" factoid actualy just statistical error. average zaunite commits 0.0004 war crimes per year. Warcrimes Singed, who lives in cave & commits over 2000 war crimes each day, is an outlier adn should not have been counted

[beardedmrbean]

Amazing

[andromeddog]

a well deserved rest

my secret santa gift for @onlyyouexisthere ✨ i hope you enjoy this drawing of winters having a little break, which we could all use

[elpurata-victim]

statistically speaking this should convince neutrals to join the autobot cause... right?

[harbours-lighthouse]

“Hey, so…” you clear your throat, “I’m gonna die someday and—” 

Jason visibly recoils at that. The painful reminder of both of your fragile morality is not one he wants to think about, or for his case, remember. 

You keep going, though your words come out slow, hesitant and soft.

“I want…I want to let you know that I love you. A lot. More than what I know what to do with.” 

“Baby—” Jason’s voice falters, and he drops his head, shaking it.

What is he supposed to say to that? It feels as if you’ve taken a sledgehammer to his chest and cleaved it in two. You’re not breaking up with him. You’re not screaming that you hate him. But why does this feel worse than those two combined? 

Jason swallows thickly, feeling the burn of the rope chafing against his wrists, and the blood leaking down his temple is hot and thick.

“And,” your voice begins to shake, “I don’t wanna die without telling you—” 

“I know,” Jason cuts in, a sense of helplessness clawing inside his chest. Bringing his gaze back up to you, he says in a softer tone.

“I know, sweetheart.” 

You purse your lips together, willing the burn in the back of your eyes to fade away. The desolate cell around you both feels like a cage. Mildew clings to the stale air. The coppery scent of blood lingers in your nose. How many people have died here?

Jason’s heart is rampaging against his ribcage, like a frightened bird violently beating its wings and desperate to be freed. 

He says your name firmly, and you lift your head from where you’d been staring at the floor; the tiles are cracked, dried blood stains the grout lines in a black-red.

Your eyes are bright, watery in the dim light. It sends Jason’s stomach churning with dread. 

“We’re gonna get out of here, okay?” there’s a weight to the words, and you can almost imagine them burning themselves into your skin, marking you with a severe promise. 

Keys being jingled unharmoniously against someone’s hip—coming closer to you—sends your skin crawling, erupting into goosebumps and fear. 

Jason’s eyes harden. His shoulders tense. The clinking metal becomes louder.

“You just need to listen to me. Listen to what I say, yeah?" he eyes bore into you, sapphire and jade burning. It urges you to nod your head.

The clanking sound echoes, loud and shrill and horrible. Jason's eyes don't leave yours, and you can see the plan formulating behind them; a sequence of actions you can't envision for yourself, but you know you won't have to.

He'll tell you, but you'll also have to listen to the unsaid things, too. 

and then i lost the plot...literally. there is absolutely no context here and i don't know what this is or where it's going, or if i should burn it or expand it into a fic.

[mochiwei]

Getting back into traditional art with some Sabriel fan art!

My favorite fall tradition is getting cozy while listening to Tim Curry’s audiobook recording of Sabriel and drawing 🥰