#something old something new something borrowed something blue

[magicicephoenix]

hey was anyone going to tell me that “something old something new something borrowed something blue” is a real thing and not made up for Doctor Who or was i just supposed to discover that by looking it up on a whim

[blueishspace]

(Something old and new, borrowed and blue p79)

Jimmy: Scott?? What the hell is going on?

Scott: It's a bit complicated.

Scar: It's really not!

Scott: Uh, so Scar is Cleo and Etho's son.

Jimmy: Huh huh, I got that much.

Scott: Bdubs too, he's Scar's...brother.

Jimmy: uhhh.

Scott: Apparently Etho is absent?

Scar: He went to buy milk and never came back!

Jimmy: Why are you so happy about that?

Scar: Oh! I'm not.

*... Ok then*

*Scott whispers to you*

Scott: Sometimes things like this happen in new games, I don't understand it but I'm as confused as you.

Jimmy: So they weren't family in Third Life?

Scott: I'm pretty sure Bdubs and Etho were boning in Last Life so I'm going to say no.

*You wheeze, Scar turns toward your direction"

Scar: Oh! Are you ok friend?

Prev Next First

[conceived-angel]

something old = carmy taking syd to ever's funeral, something new = carmy taking syd to tiff's wedding, something (permanently) borrowed = the thom browne jacket, something blue = carmy after finding out about shapiro's offer

THEY'RE GETTING MARRIEDDDD (syd's signing the partnership agreement)

[getosugurusbangs]

sorry for betraying you all and changing my blog theme 😔😔

[random-jot]

Something Blue: Afterlife

An anime-inspired 'opening sequence' for my original comic 'Something Blue,’ which you can read for free right here on tumblr!

Song: Afterlife by Avenged Sevenfold

[newobsessionweekly]

something old

Main masterlist | The Rookie masterlist

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

Tim Bradford x bestfriend!reader Series: Something old, new, borrowed, blue Fandom: The Rookie Summary: You and Tim have been best friends for years, but your friendship is jeopardised when you caught feelings for him and Tim decided he wants to propose to Lucy.

Angst

A/N: How I LOVE this one. I've been so exited to post it, I really couldn't resist any more. I hope you like it as much as I do. Feel free to give some feedback and if you have any ideas for the next parts, I'm all ears. Thank you so so much for your support, I appreciate every single one of you. Lots of love, bubs! ❤️ Warnings: eating disorder briefly described, getting drunk ? not proofread yet Requested: not really, yes maybe - here Words: 4k

You buried your head into cases, one after another, working overtime and exhausting yourself on purpose. Keeping your mind occupied with work and the treacherous world outside, you didn't have time to think about your own life. And it was for the best. For the past months you watched the man you've been in love with for years fall for someone you've considered your friend. Of course, neither one of them knew about the feelings evolving inside you with every sight of him, but it doesn't make it less painful. And it still keeps you up at night.

Tim has been your best friend since you can remember. You've been there for each other through thick and thin, always finding solace in each other's arms. He's been your shoulder to cry on, the first person to share your happiness with, and the only one who's got your back. Until now. Sitting at your desk, you checked your watch and sighed. It's almost ten pm and the bullpen is just as quiet as a grave. Your grave, plugged up by your own misery. You didn't catch sign of Tim for weeks, the last thing he said to you was a distant 'morning' thrown in a rush as he left for patrol duty with Lucy. It's funny how you imagined that seeing Tim and Lucy on a daily basis at the station would tear you apart, because right now, not seeing Tim for weeks broke you even more. They kept their distance at work, showing only professionalism as their sparkling glances filled with so much love and joy spoke volumes. Laughter slowly broke the silence, the well known voices echoing through the station. You raised your head a little, to take in the sight as you watched Tim and Lucy bantering. But you noticed something was not right, his smile didn't reach his ears as it used to, eyes don't seem filled with emotion and she didn't seem to notice. You knew Tim like the back of your hand. You could sense something's going on between them, but you lowered your head just in time, before your eyes could meet Tim's. Your intention was not to avoid him, not necessarily, but seeing him so late after his shift ended, surely caught you off guard. Just as his hand on your shoulder did.

You raised your head, startled by the unexpected sensation of warmth as his smile grew on his face, genuine you might say. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." he excused himself softly as his eyes searched yours, going back and forth between you and your desk, "What you doing here so late?"

You blinked, momentarily stunned by the sudden closeness, the warmth of Tim's hand on your shoulder seeping into your bones. For a moment, you forgot how to breathe, lost in the depths of his gaze as his eyes searched yours with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

"Just... catching up on paperwork." you managed to reply, your voice steady despite the chaos swirling in your mind.

Tim's smile faltered for a moment, a flicker of something you couldn't quite decipher passing through his eyes before it was gone, replaced by a mask of sarcasm. "Doing the homework for the whole department, Detective?"

You chuckled softly, the sound feeling forced even to your own ears. "Something like that," you replied, offering him a weak smile in return.

Tim nods, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he pulls up a chair beside your desk, his expression serious. "Can we talk?" he asks, his voice low and hesitant.

Your heart skips a beat at his words, a thousand thoughts racing through your mind as you nod, motioning for him to continue. "Of course, Bradford. What's on your mind?"

He hesitates for a moment, his brow furrowing with uncertainty before he finally meets your eyes. "It's about Lucy," he says softly, his voice tinged with nervousness.

His eyes darting away from yours before finally meeting them once more. "I want to propose to Lucy," Tim admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I'm scared, scared that I'm not good enough for her, scared that I won't be able to protect her."

Your heart clenched at his words, the pain of your unspoken feelings bubbling to the surface once more. But you pushed it aside, forcing a smile onto your face as you reached out to take his hand in yours. "Tim, you're more than good enough for her," you said softly, your voice filled with conviction. "And as for protecting her, well, I think you've proven time and time again that you'd do anything for her."

Tim's eyes searched yours, a mixture of fear and hope swirling in their depths. "But what if something happens to her because of me?" he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Your heart feels like it's been wrenched from your chest at his words, a dull ache settling in the pit of your stomach. You've known for a while now how deeply Tim cares for Lucy, how much he loves her. And yet, the thought of him spending the rest of his life with her, fills you with a sense of profound loss.

You shook your head, a sense of determination coursing through your veins. "Tim, you can't live your life in fear of what might happen and you can't blame yourself for the dangers of this job," you say, your voice trembling with emotion. "Lucy knows the risks. She chose to be with you, despite them."

His eyes searched yours, a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty shining in their depths. "Thank you, Y/N," he said softly, his voice barely audible over the din of the bullpen. "I needed to hear that."

You smiled, squeezing his hand gently before releasing it, a bittersweet ache settling in your chest. "Anytime, Tim. You know I'm always here for you."

You smiled, pushing the pain aside, burying it deep beneath the surface where no one could see. Because in the end, all that mattered was Tim's happiness, even if it meant sacrificing your own.

As Tim stands up from the chair, a playful glint dances in his eyes, and he can't resist teasing you. "You know, Detective, it's past your bedtime. Shouldn't you be tucked in by now?"

You roll your eyes with a laugh, shaking your head at his antics. "Oh please, Bradford, like you're one to talk. Last time I checked, we're both adults capable of burning the midnight oil."

Tim chuckles, his laughter filling the room with warmth. "Touché, Y/L/N," he concedes, his smile genuine. "But someone gotta keep you out of trouble."

You roll your eyes, unable to suppress a grin at his antics. "Like I need you to keep me out of trouble. I can handle myself just fine, thank you very much. I'm a grown adult who can stay up past bedtime if she wants to," you tease, flashing him a mischievous grin.

Suddenly, Tim's attitude shifts, a concerned expression playing on his face as he leans forward, his voice soft and earnest.

"Seriously, though, Y/N," he says, his tone gentle. "Don't stay up too late, get some sleep. You're no good to anyone if you're running on empty."

You're taken aback by his sudden change in attitude, the warmth of his concern washing over you like a comforting embrace. Despite the playful banter, you can see the genuine worry in his eyes, a reminder of just how much he cares about you, even if he doesn't always show it.

You smile softly, touched by his concern. "Thanks, Tim," you say sincerely, your voice warm with gratitude. "I'll make sure to hit the hay early tonight. Wouldn't want to dethrone you as the grumpiest cop."

Tim's lips quirk up in a small smile at your teasing, a hint of relief flashing in his eyes. "Hey, watch it." he says softly, his voice gentle. "But take care of yourself, okay? Promise me."

You nod, a sense of warmth settling in your chest at his words. "Promise," you reply, meeting his gaze with a reassuring smile. "And you take care of yourself too, Tim. Don't forget to look after your woman."

With a chuckle, Tim nods, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes as he turns to leave your office. "I won't," he promises softly, his voice carrying a warmth that fills the space between you. "Thanks, Y/N. For everything."

The station buzzed with activity around you, the usual hustle and bustle of the station fading into background noise as you sat at your desk, lost in a sea of memories and emotions. You've seen the bullpen and the files of criminals more than you've seen your own bed, the caffeine taking place of your breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Since Tim told you about the proposal, it's been radio silence from him, not a word exchanged between the two of you. The weight of his words hangs over you like a dark cloud, casting a shadow over everything you do.

You glance down at your hands, absently tracing your fingers over Tim's dog tag from Afghanistan. He had offered it to you when he safely returned home from the war, a silent acknowledgment of your friendship and the bond you shared. And now, as you hold it in your hands, it feels like a cruel, constant reminder of everything you had lost and everything you could never have.

The tag feels heavy in your palm, a tangible reminder of the weight of your unspoken feelings for Tim. You close your eyes, willing the memories to fade, but they only come rushing back with even more intensity. Memories of late nights spent talking and laughing, of shared secrets and stolen glances, of a friendship that had once meant everything to you.

You've lost weight in the past weeks, the stress and heartache taking their toll on your body. Dark circles ring your eyes, evidence of sleepless nights spent tossing and turning, haunted by memories of Tim and the friendship you fear may be slipping away.

Angela, your only remaining closest friend and confidante, joins you at your desk, her presence a welcome distraction from the storm raging inside your mind. "How you holding up?" she asks softly, her eyes searching your frame with concern. "I, uh, heard about Tim and Lucy."

"Yeah, no, I'm fine," you reply, forcing a smile onto your lips as you clear your throat. "I'm really happy for him."

Angela raises an eyebrow, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Liar," she mocks gently. "You don't look fine."

You sigh, the facade slipping for a moment as you meet Angela's gaze. "It's just... been a rough couple of weeks," you admit, the words heavy on your tongue.

"I know, I'm sorry," Angela says sympathetically, reaching out to squeeze your hand in a gesture of support. "You know, I'm here if you need to talk or something. Or drink it away. Whatever suits you," she adds with a chuckle.

You spot Tim across the bullpen, his back turned as he converses with another officer. A surge of emotion wells up inside you, a tangled mess of longing and heartache that threatens to overwhelm you.

"You know what?" you say suddenly, your voice firm despite the tremor in your heart. "I could use a drink." You pause, a plan forming in your mind. "Or maybe ten. But I have to take care of something first."

Angela looks at you, confusion flickering in her eyes as you rise from your desk and make your way towards Tim. "Y/N!" she calls after you, but you ignore her, your mind made up as you steel yourself for the confrontation that lies ahead.

Outside, the sun sets in a blaze of orange and pink, casting long shadows across the pavement as the city begins to quieten down. But for you, the night is just beginning, a whirlwind of emotions and unanswered questions swirling around you as you prepare to face the man who holds your heart in his hands.

Your heart pounds in your chest, a mixture of uneasiness and determination swirling inside you. His gaze meets yours, and for a moment, you see a flicker of something familiar in his eyes, a warmth that sends a shiver down your spine.

"Sergeant Bradford, may I have a word?" you ask, your voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside you.

Tim turns to face you, his brow furrowing in concern as he takes in your appearance. The other officer excuses himself, sensing the gravity of the situation.

The circles under your eyes and the weariness in your expression send a pang of guilt coursing through him. He's been so consumed with his own turmoil that he failed to notice the toll it was taking on you.

"Everything okay?" Tim asks, his voice soft with concern.

"Yeah, just wanted to talk to you about something," you reply, your voice betraying none of the turmoil raging inside you.

As Tim's concern for your well-being rises, so does his guilt. He knows he's been distant, preoccupied with his own thoughts and emotions. But seeing you like this, so worn down and fragile, hits him harder than he expected. A surge of emotions threatens to overwhelm you, as well, the love you've buried deep down resurfaces, overshadowing the pain and frustration that have consumed you for weeks.

"Hold on a second, Y/N," Tim says, his voice tinged with worry. "When's the last time you slept? Or ate something?"

You feel a surge of anger bubble up inside you, a mask to cover the hurt and vulnerability that threaten to spill over.

"Okay, Bradford. Don't pretend like you care," you snap, your voice sharper than intended. Deep down, you're grateful to know he still cares, but the pain is too raw, too fresh to acknowledge.

"I just thought it's best for you to have this back," you continue, taking his hand and placing the dog tag in his palm. Your voice trembles slightly as you speak, the weight of your words heavy in the air. "You know, for the wedding. Something old. Like... our friendship."

Tim's heart sinks as you push the dog tag into his hand, your words ringing in his ears like a painful echo.

Without giving him a chance to respond, you turn and walk away, leaving Tim speechless and confused in your wake. Deep down, you know you've made the right choice. It's time to let go of the past and move forward, even if it means facing a future without the man you've loved for so long.

He knows he messed up, knows he let you down in ways he can't even begin to comprehend. But as he watches you disappear into the crowd, he's filled with a determination unlike anything he's ever felt before.

He won't let you slip through his fingers, won't let your friendship crumble away to nothing. Whatever it takes, he'll make things right, even if it means facing the painful truth that he's been in love with you all along.

The night air is thick with the scent of alcohol and laughter as you stumble out of the bar, Angela's concerned gaze following your every move. You've had way too much to drink, the alcohol coursing through your veins and clouding your thoughts with a haze of euphoria and pain.

But despite Angela's disapproving glances, you press on, drowning your sorrows in the numbing embrace of alcohol. It's a temporary escape, a fleeting moment of oblivion in a world that seems determined to crush you beneath its weight.

As the night wears on, the alcohol begins to take its toll, your movements growing sluggish and uncoordinated. Your laughter turns to tears, the pain of losing Tim as a friend hitting you with a force you can't begin to comprehend.

And then, just as the world begins to blur around you, Angela's voice cuts through the fog, her words a lifeline in the darkness. "Bradford, get your ass here and clean the mess you've made," she says over the phone, her tone tinged with worry.

Tim's voice responds, filled with concern. "What happened?"

"Y/N's a bit drunk and I can't deal with her by myself," Angela replies, her voice tight with concern.

"Give me five," Tim says, his urgency palpable even over the phone.

As Tim rushes to the bar, his heart pounds in his chest with a mixture of worry and guilt. He can't shake the feeling that he's somehow responsible for the state you're in, that his actions—or lack thereof—have pushed you to this point.

When Tim arrives at the bar, you're a total mess, the alcohol having stripped away all semblance of control. Seeing you like this, vulnerable and hurting, tears at his heartstrings in a way he never expected. He can't help but feel a surge of guilt wash over him, knowing that he's played a part in your pain.

He helps you into his car, his touch gentle yet firm, a rush of conflicting emotions floods through you. His hands are warm against your skin, a stark contrast to the cold reality of the night air.

You feel a pang of sadness as you meet his eyes, clouded with worry and concern. The distance between you feels insurmountable, a chasm widening with each passing moment.

"Come on, Y/N. The party's over. Let's get you home," Tim says softly, his voice filled with concern and they wash over you like a soothing balm, a reminder that even in your darkest moments, he's still there, still willing to help you pick up the pieces.

But you protest, your words slurred and disjointed as you gaze at Angela through heavy-lidded eyes. "Why did you call him?" you mumble, frustration evident in your voice.

He buckles you up, his movements careful and deliberate, a flicker of hope stirs within you. Maybe, just maybe, there's still a chance to salvage what's left of your friendship, to bridge the gap that's grown between you.

Tim exchanges a look with Angela, confusion flickering in his eyes. "Where are her keys?" he asks, his tone serious.

Angela shrugs innocently. "Yeah, that's the problem. She lost her purse. Don't you have a spare key?"

Tim's jaw tightens with frustration. "No. You?"

Angela shakes her head, her expression apologetic. "Obviously not, that's why I called you." she smiles at him playfully, "Good night, Bradford."

As Tim starts the car and pulls away from the curb, the world outside blurs into a hazy kaleidoscope of lights and shadows. You bumble something incoherent through the drive, your words slurred and disjointed as you struggle to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

He helps you out of the car and guides you inside his house, his touch is both gentle and reassuring. Each brush of his hand against yours sends a jolt of electricity coursing through you, igniting a fire deep within your soul. You lean on him heavily, your legs wobbly from the alcohol as he guides you inside.

Tim leads you to his bedroom, his movements gentle yet firm. He helps you out of your shoes and jacket, his touch lingering longer than necessary as he tucks you into his bed, tracing invisible patterns along your arm, pulling the covers over you. You can feel the warmth of his touch seeping into your bones, soothing the ache in your heart and calming the storm raging inside you.

"Can I get you anything?" he asks softly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort. "Do you need anything?"

You mumble something incoherent in response, your words slurred and barely audible. As he sits beside you on the edge of the bed, his touch becomes hesitant, unsure of how to navigate the tangled web of emotions between you. His hand hovers over yours, his fingers trembling ever so slightly as he debates whether to reach out or pull away.

"You," you whisper, your voice barely above a whisper.

Tim's heart skips a beat at your words, a surge of excitement coursing through him as his touch falters, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek, searching your eyes for any sign of doubt. But all he finds is raw honesty, a vulnerability that takes his breath away and leaves him feeling exposed.

He maintains a serious expression, his concern for your well-being overriding any other emotions.

"You're drunk, Y/N," he says softly, his voice tinged with regret. "You don't know what you're talking about."

But you're insistent, stumbling over your words. "I know," you say, your voice tinged with desperation. "I know I love you and I know I need you."

Tim's heart aches at your words, the weight of your confession hanging heavy in the air between you. But he knows you're not in the right state of mind to have this conversation now.

But you shake your head stubbornly, your words slurred as you try to leave the bed. "I need to go. What would your fiancée say" you insist.

"Take it easy, Y/N," he says gently, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder. "You need sleep. We'll talk in the morning."

But you plead with him, your eyes searching his for any sign of reassurance. "Please don't go," you whisper, your voice tinged with desperation.

With a sigh, Tim gives in, knowing that arguing with you now would only make things worse. "Fine," he says softly, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I'll humor you and sleep on the floor."

You pat the empty side of the bed, a small smile playing on your lips. "Here," you say, your voice soft and pleading.

Tim chuckles softly, shaking his head in amusement. "You're so drunk," he murmurs, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulls you close. "And you're definitely gonna kill me in the morning."

Tim settles into bed beside you, his touch is gentle yet firm, his fingers tracing soothing patterns along your back. The warmth of his embrace envelops you like a cocoon, comforting and familiar, and you find yourself leaning into him instinctively, seeking solace in his presence.

"But it's definitely worth it," Tim whispers softly, his voice filled with a tenderness that makes your heart swell with love.

His touch sends shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that burns brighter with each passing moment. It's as if every brush of his fingers against your skin is a promise, a silent reassurance that you're not alone, that he's here for you no matter what.

And as you bury your face against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulls you into a sense of peace you haven't felt in weeks. In this moment, with Tim's arms wrapped around you, everything else fades away, leaving only the two of you alone in the darkness.

But beneath the surface, a storm rages within you, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions that threatens to tear you apart. Guilt gnaws at your insides, knowing that you've burdened Tim with your drunken confessions, knowing that you've crossed a line that can never be uncrossed.

His touch is tender yet tentative, as if he's afraid to break the fragile spell that binds you together. He can't help but feel a sense of peace wash over him, knowing that in this moment, nothing else matters except the two of you, wrapped up in each other's arms, clinging to the fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, there's still a chance for love.

And yet, despite the turmoil raging inside you, there's a sense of rightness in this moment, a feeling that you've finally found your place in the world. In Tim's arms, you feel safe and loved, cherished in a way you never thought possible.

[be-an-echo]

watch the world burn

@seethesunny this is for you

[ye-olde-tardis]

When I was a kid I thought "something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue" was a doctor who reference that people made at weddings.

[achievementofthemajority]

Okay, can I get a hell yeah for bi Buck!! Not trying to step on his moment to make it about Buddie BUT I thought about something this morning and I have to get it out. It's about the interview where Ryan says, “There’s something new for both of us (coming up this season)". Eddie must be very involved in this plot line, otherwise it wouldn’t be something new for Ryan as an actor. If he’s just being a supportive bff, that’s nothing new for Eddie/Ryan. The way he phrased it is sus. You combine that with how they said Tommy would be around for only a little while, and I'm thinking we're getting Buddie sooner than some people think. Those who don't think of this as a stepping stone for Buddie, please, remove head from ass. It's definitely happening, and soon.

[madebysimblr]

Cordy: You’re really going to go to Selvadorada?

Ollie: I really am. It’s rare enough that they’ll scout anyone outside of the country, let alone two of us. Be happy for me?

Cordy: I’m thrilled for you, honest! Just going to miss you.

Ollie: AWH. I’ll miss you too.

Carl: I’m just sayin’! If that boy hurts one hair on my precious little girl’s head I’ll castrate him!!!

Gigi: Take it down a notch Dad.

Carl: I’ll be at precisely the notch I see fit!

[wedding march begins to play]

Gigi: Ok, ok. But it’s time. Remember that this is my special day?

[spottedenchants]

🌱 for the fic title ask?

🌱 Do you have any preferred structures/themes in your fic titles?

ooooo okay- for structure, short answer, kind of, longer answer:

Ficlets:

my first batch of TS!Mighty Nein ficlets = 'In Which Essek and So-and-so Do Thing'

prompt fills = lowercase adjective ending in -ed

Chunky Main Point fics (title case):

generally applicable song lyrics OR a line pulled directly from the C2 transcripts

overall though, puns/wordplay are my go-to if i can't find something fitting xD

As for themes, nothing overarching there, but the titles of Essek & Kingsley fics tend to reference Mollymauk in some way

Thanks for the ask! :D

fic title ask meme!

[blueishspace]

(Something old and new, borrowed and blue p80)

Jimmy: No, I'm dying actually.

Scar: What!?

Jimmy: Oh noo...

Scar: Jimmy!? What's wrong?

Jimmy: *cough cough* ...Goodbye.

Scar: Jimmy!!

Scott: He... he's joking Scar.

Scar: Wait, really?

Jimmy: What, nooo, I'm totally dead. Bleh.

Scar: ... That was mean.

Prev Next First

[nate-fraust]

Something Old, Something New

Sorry, don’t really use Tumblr except to see what new stuff’s being posted about my ships, so this’ll be a lame first post.

Anyways, I guess the prompt for this sort of thread thing is “Post a snip of one of your oldest works vs. one of your newest.” In that case, I’ve got a few things for y’all.

(Btw: thx to @n1hila for the tag. If anyone else would like to join, like @mel-kusanagi, you can, but you don’t have to. I’m just a dude lurking in the shade of y’all’s brilliance :) )

So, since I got tagged on the basis of my writing, I guess I’ll start with that. Writing

The first section is an excerpt from the first chapter of “coNTROL”, the first fanfic I ever published during my early years as a part of the inFAMOUS fandom. I’d initially posted it on Fanfiction.net back in September or October of 2013, but I deleted it from my account there and reposted it to my AO3 five years later. This story sparked my love of writing and storytelling, so much so that I’m working on earning my bachelor’s in Mass Communication/Journalism right now. The second section is “Phantom”, my latest one-shot. I wrote it as part of the “Codextober” challenge from @orphiceonian, using the prompt “Blade”. I’d intended to follow it up with another one-shot of Loki (or Delus/Luka/Leug, as I would call him using the “Isu” name he would most likely have) meeting Aletheia/Angrboða (Drud/Drutes in “Isu”) during his time apprenticing under Promethus/Consus (Permenos/Setor) at his workshop prior to the War of Reunification* in 1923 Isu Era. However, classes and assignments got the better of me. Perhaps I’ll finish it over this break.

Old:

His brain drummed a maddening beat against his skull as he limped towards the destroyed military truck. Dammit, he cursed. Would this incessant pounding never end? He reached the truck, which had evidence of a firefight or some sort of incindeary devices all over it. The back of the truck was facing him, a box of smoke and flames. Delsin rushed as best he could towards the opening, trying to ignore the oily stench of smoke and burning human flesh.

He saw the shine of a DUP officer's helmet, and ignored it. Why should he care for the oppressive SOB? He peered around and noticed movement through the fumes. He hurried over to the figure and tried to get his attention.

"Sir? Sir, you need medical help." Delsin said to the hunched over man as he clapped him lightly on the shoulder. Don't we all, he reflected bitterly. "I need to ca-".

The man grabbed his arm and held on like a vise. "No!" he shouted hoarsely. "No hospitals! They're never taking me back!"

Delsin tried to wrench his arm away from the madman, and ended up touching his wrist to the stranger's thumb. A roar sounded in his ears, and they flew apart. Delsin hit the ground and slid to the back of the car, bashing his head on the end of a cold metal bench. He barely heard the crack of the man's neck as he slid into unconsciousness. New:

Wind rushes into me as I come back to myself. Far off in the distance, a sable speck plummets into the spear-din, glinting and crossed. I watch it fall.

Someone is screaming. Somewhere, someone is screaming.

The heat is at my back. I turn to face it.

Ice shoots through my heart.

“ You ,” I sputter, gilded spittle flecking Delus’ scarred visage.

“Aye.” The bastard’s smile is cruel, lit from within with madness. “ Me .”

He goes to pull his dagger from my chest, but I grasp onto his arm in a grip made tight from death. His eyes are full of hate and panic.

With the last of my strength, I cast Gungnir far from me, willing it farther and farther still as I pull the traitor’s blade deeper into myself.

Delus is screaming in my ear, cursing me, my blood, my kin. I close my eyes against the truth as he howls to the roaring winds, crying of his hand in beloved Balthas’ slow death. I close my eyes and call out to the Swayer, drawing it back, back, back-

My blood-brother chokes on his words as Gungir tears through us both, fleeing far to the north. We fall.

The air is thick with cries of “ Zàw! ” and the black scent of death, but my eyes are fixed on his. There are no promises, no oaths to be made in the face of such a sight.

My body is cold now, yet the wound burns all the same.

Delus’ mouth moves, gilded tongue full of venom-

* - The War of Reunification was a conflict that likely would have been analogous to the Aesir-Vanir War of Norse myth. If the conflict was continent-wide, it could have also/otherwise been the basis for the theorized Proto-Indo-European myth of the “war of the functions/foundation”.

Bonus: Art

I’ve been drawing for far longer than I’ve been writing, but I don’t stake any significant claim on it. However, I do have a few pieces in my Google Photos. Old:

This is a drawing of Delsin Rowe from one of my other (unfinished) inFAMOUS fanfics, a Last of Us crossover titled “The Light”. Had I continued with it, Delsin would’ve looked something like this by (probably) the middle of the story. His right forearm has a green-blue shattered arrowhead, which was supposed to signify the Glass powers he would have gotten at some point in the journey.

This is a drawing of Diana Prince/Wonder Woman, semi-inspired by Christy Tortland/Serena Kenobi’s iteration of her in her “Hunter” Wonderbat series of fanfics. If I’m remembering correctly, I may have based the body off of Gina Carano, but I really should have worked more on Gal Gadot’s face. Either that, or I should’ve just done Jamie Alexander instead.

New:

This is an early sketch of a marble statue of Dagris, a “god-king” deity from a homebrew DnD campaign I’ve been involved with for a few months. We’ve stalled for the moment, so I figured it would be alright to put this out into the world.

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Bonus2: Poetry

Yes, I’m still here. Yes, I’ll be getting out of y’all’s hair in a moment (if you’ve not stopped reading already). Just wanted to leave you with a few snippets of poetry. 

Old: It’s pointless to write these words,

for I’ve dug my grave with my own hands,

with my thoughts,

and they're simply wind to you.

I’m grasping at an image,

A watercolor from the back of my mind.

The paints run down

As the image is washed in the river of thought.

I want to know;

I need to see.

But it’s not for me.

New:

Before me, behind me, above me, about me,

The sky. 

Choked by the fideless clouds,

It roils, gelt in fury.

Orcus’ rictus gapes;

Kharon, bowing, beckons,

Cyan cowl stained,

Blotted by woeful waters.

Onward, ever onward;

Through tongueless tears,

Through faned fears,

Through a thousand-thousandfold.

Not so strange,

The fruitless ash,

Maddening horse-gallow.

Not so great,

The landless thorn,

Crossless cedar-hyssop.

Gloryless wanderer,

Sightless sees,

A pitiless gaze,

A manger seiged.

[guinevereslancelot]

got my friend a silver sixpence for her shoe bc she got engaged (and she's estranged from her parents over it) and she told me she's getting married barefoot 😂

[wreckitredglare]

Marriage keeps coming up as a topic. In jest, in seriousness. Where I am the wife, where I am the former wife, where I'd make a lovely bride. And on occasion, where I'll be a fine wedding guest.

I wanted to marry for love. I wanted that so much. I still do. But when I was perfect for it, I wasn't good enough to be chosen. When I was married, I was a terrible wife. I can't subject anyone to that again. Not until I become better.

But I imagine the futures. I wish for them so terribly. I just won't ever have them.

[goxjo]

𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

↪︎ a nsfw mini-series featuring various haikyuu x f bridesmaid!reader scenarios

A/N. I find myself cowering at the slightest hints of domesticity irl and therefore have trouble writing it so here’s a little idea I came up with that’s (sort of) close enough. AAAND I rewrote parts of something blue & something borrowed ++ they’re about 3-4 years old today sksks. Just wanted to show my earlier works some love that’s all <3

taglist. comment or send an ask to be tagged. please make sure your age is visible on your blog too <33

haikyuu masterlist ∘ general masterlist

꒰ 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐝𝐧𝐢 — 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 ꒱

I. Something Blue ⋮ Miya Atsumu

In which you, a bridesmaid, come across a groomsman who cannot wait to get away from all the drunk and lovesick fools at the wedding reception, much like yourself ⋮ Alternatively, in which you get to know each other while he’s balls deep into you

content. hookups, just a bunch of horny strangers, semi-public touching and grinding a.k.a. inappropriate pda, lots and lots of teasing, cockwarming, wc. 3.5k

II. Something Borrowed ⋮ Sakusa Kiyoomi

In which you find no way out of the most absurd wedding tradition of all time — the garter toss

content. light choking, slight humiliation, slight corruption, deepthroating, slight gagging, fingering, cunnilingus, mentions of alcohol, edging, slight praise kink, overstimulation, creampie, aftercare, wc. 6.1k

III. Something Old ⋮ Iwaizumi Hajime

In which the marriage of a close friend reunites you with your ex who returns after 3 years of no communication, making all unresolved feelings come to light ⋮ Alternatively, in which an ex tries to win you back

content. angst, exes to lovers, confrontation, quickie (sort of), semi-public sex, creampie, cum-eating

IV. Something New ⋮ Suna Rintarou

In which marital inevitabilities — merging families, in particular — force extended relatives to get to know each other. As if that in itself isn’t uncomfortable enough, you’re also forced to bunk with your future sister-in-law’s brother while you’re in town

content. and they were roommates!, reluctant roommates, acquaintances to friends with benefits to lovers, sharing a wall, mutual masturbation, some angst, bridesmaid & groomsman shenanigans