#thread: juno

[zoaoliveira]

who: zoa and juno (@saccharineflesh) where: the settlement

that damn bell.

how the hell can she hear it all the way out here? sometimes, she wonders whether it's just etched into her mind, a pavlovian response whenever the sky begins to darken. or maybe it's real and others can hear it too, but she's never bothered to ask. not at the risk of hearing "we all hear it." ... that'd be too validating.

besides, it wouldn't be the only sound she hears that she's not sure is actually there. as mrs. elliot always said, we're all driven to madness at one point or another, a foreboding prelude to the day she took her final step through that tree.

zoa immediately kicks off her boots, a cloud of dust forming as her bag thuds on the ground. scavenged lanterns hang from the ceiling, a soft glow illuminating their shared space. “hey, i’m back,” her voice carries an edge of exhaustion, but if you listen closely, there’s a faint hint of relief. after spending days out in the forest, the shadows feel like a calm, grounding presence, but that could just be juno's energy she's sensing. "survived another day in the labyrinth," she speaks dryly, her voice carrying its usual casual indifference.

shimmying off her jacket, zoa spreads it out on the wooden floor, she settles onto the makeshift cushion with an exaggerated groan. she's always preferred the ground over any furniture, though she couldn't tell you why. her shirt clings to her skin, worn and full of patches. her forearms are dirtied and decorated with scratches, little badges awarded after every mission, a reminder that it always takes it toll. the forest never makes it easy, but that's fine. she doesn't need it to.

the desire to share her latest find outweighs the thought of rinsing off, or even bothering with their rigged bucket system. she'd rather wait until daylight, and use the communal showers instead.

"i stink, so i won't be offended if you stay over there." she calls out, dragging her bag closer. "but i want to show you something." first, zoa pulls out her rusted flask from the side pocket and presses it to her lips, a ritual more than a necessity. then, unzips another pouch, revealing a weathered journal.

[circlique]

"Water. Earth. Fire. Air. For thousands of years, the Avatar has kept balances between the forces of this world. Nations, spirits, and benders, bound by the threads that connect all living things, partake in a tenuous dance of harmony with the Avatar at its center. Ten years ago, the Avatar and I defeated my father, an egomaniac with his own web of power and thirst for domination--but there was a cost. The Avatar, spirit broken by my father's torment, abandoned the world. In the absence of the Avatar, someone else must step up to keep balance. My father is alive, his tendrils creeping across the Four Nations once again. I must atone for my role in the Avatar's fall, and so, I will build a new team of benders to take on my father once more. Maybe, if they can set aside their differences long enough, we can bring balance back to this world."

My Avatar DND campaign wrapped up a year ago and I'm writing it out as a full-length fic. Set many Avatar cycles before Aang, it will feature Lion Turtle lore, Dai Li lore, White Lotus lore, and explore the limits of bending (with cool sub-bending types for water, air, and fire). If you like spy thrillers you should definitely check it out when I post it. ;) This teaser image is a scene from the prologue, which I hope to post to ao3 soon!

[ID in alt text.]

[purpleleafsyt]

Asteria, Ciro, Juno

[lunar-years]

We didn’t get enough of them in season 3 I’ll just say

[theodoranowak]

x. status -> closed for @hvneymelons (juno) x. location -> blue harbor train station

Theo supposes riding a train is not unlike riding the subway. Though, much to her own embarrassment, it’s not like she’d ridden the subway very often in New York. No — when your family has the means, public transportation even in a city as large as New York was hardly ever necessary. Maybe that’s why she finds the novelty far more exciting than she thinks any human being should; and, if she’s being completely honest with herself, it’s probably a tiny bit condescending.

She doesn’t think she exudes wealth — at least, she doesn’t think such a thing is possible — but even so, she tries her best to make herself as small as possible as she takes a seat on a shaded bench, waiting for the next train to Chicago. She could have probably driven, mind you, but as someone who rarely ever had to drive herself, she’s not the most confident in her ability to not cause an accident on a highway. Something objectively low in risk, she thinks, but not according to the anxious voice inside her head that sounds remarkably like her nagging mother.

Crossing one leg over the other, she links her fingers together around her knee, watching people walk to and fro, clearly in their own world. They all seem so comfortable here, like they do this every day, and, well — Theo supposes they just might. Maybe she’ll eventually be as comfortable as them, she thinks, if she starts taking the train more often.

A fleeting movement catches her attention in her peripheral, and she turns curiously to find the source. It’s a young woman who seems to have flipped through a page in her journal and is now scribbling something else down, looking deep in concentration. Theo doesn’t think it’s a good idea to interrupt her, but she can’t help herself — she catches sight of the woman’s writing, and finds herself saying, “Wow. You have remarkable penmanship,” before she can stop herself. She smiles sheepishly. “Sorry. I promise I didn’t read anything. Mostly taken by the sight.”

[thefvrious]

@atrickrtreat sent -> 🎲 and got a kiss on the nose.

It wasn't often that Dash was gentle or soft, but Juno brought out a special side of him. At first, it had made him angry that she always elicited such responses from him — since when did he care? — but he grew to enjoy the softness, to let it blossom when they were together. Sort of like how he felt like their friendship was blossoming into something more.

He wasn't sure what possessed him to do it, but he leaned in and pressed his lips to the tip of her nose, kissing gently before leaning back, grinning fondly at her. "You're so damned cute." He said, shaking his head at himself — what the hell even was that? "You're making me soft..."

[eyes-sheep-song]

I would not like to be my psychiatrist tomorrow when I tell her that I have been crying and screaming all week because mf private investigator Juno Steel left Peter Nureyev after becoming the most important people to each other and promising to leave everything behind to be together

[monnstrous]

CLOSED STARTER FOR @gzsoline ft. JUNO ! they said : can you grab it from the top shelf ? i can’t reach.

fazer os arranjos para adoções felizmente se tornava mais e mais difícil - felizmente porque mais crianças estavam sendo adotadas , e haviam cada vez mais interessados em abrir espaço em suas vidas para alguém novo. era quando ele alistava ajuda de amigos no correr de background check's sobre os possíveis guardiões. aleksander era meticuloso e raramente deixava algo passar , contudo, um novo par de olhos seria sempre bem vindo.

eles andavam pelo escritório , manuseando os corpos ao redor um do outro, e fazendo comentários sobre o que achavam nos documentos fornecidos a instituição assim como pesquisas - tanto quanto clandestinas - da sua presença online, e era isso que ele olhava quando juno pediu sua assistência . ― ❛ huh ? ❜ então a viu apontando para pasta bem acima de sua cabeça e sorriu gentilmente, andando até a outra, e pegando o arquivo. ― ❛ aqui. ❜ entregou em suas mãos e voltou para o computador. ― ❛ parece que não tem muito mais o que descobrir sobre os johnson's , são uma família de classe média alta , vão dar uma vida confortável para uma criança. ❜

[scryptids]

location: the broom closet

closed starter for: @sparepcrts (misery)

"remind me again what it is you do here?" juno was almost too focused on the little crystal pinched between her fingers, eyes squinted as if that would give her a better look at it. "like i know the general vibe and the appeal, but like...what do you do?"

[momentspassd]

— characters: sam & juno — setting: latte love — tagging: @hvneymelons

Only a few months into residing in Blue Harbor, Samuel had been unaware of the coffeeshop feud until very recently. No side had been chosen on his part, and as a newbie the writer felt no fealty toward one place over the other.

Coffee wasn't just coffee. As a New Yorker Samuel Harrison knew that much. Especially with many shops claiming to have the world's best cuppa.

Therefore he'd setup at an outside table with his laptop and drink, people watching rather then tapping away at the keys and making any progress on the next installment in his detective series.

It wasn't writer's block.

The coffeeshop impartial's thoughts were simply pulled by distractions. Big or small, didn't matter, though he was mostly consumed by matters with Ben and the boy's biological family and him losing grip on what he'd thrown his life away for little more than three years ago, along with the fact that the woman he'd left behind was also here in this small Illinois town.

Sometimes Samuel considered that the ups and downs of his own life were at the fingertips of a writer that did it for the drama. Whose fingers flew over the keys anytime a new plot twist presented itself.

"This seat's free if you need to sit," the writer offered, umber gaze landing on the figure standing nearby. Squinting into the sunlight, all he could discern was that the person was female and likely on their phone, but it was better to be polite than leave someone awkwardly standing by.

Gesturing across from him, Samuel tacked on, "unless you're grandfathered in across the street and can't be seen here at the gates of the enemy."

[lleccmte]

DEVÍAMOS LUTAR PARA VIVER MAIS UM DIA ? tudo nele dizia que sim, pois a raiva cruzava suas veias, a batalha entremeava suas entranhas & o conflito era um deus em si só. porém, queria também viver momentos comuns ; como desejou falar de coisas normais com a mãe - como desejou que ela dissesse : ' eu vejo que está morrendo ' , mas nada disto vinha a tona, agora era só um garoto com uma ferida na mão tentando abrir uma calda de chocolate para fazer sundaes.

❛ ah oi, juno. ❜  não tinha notado a presença do outro no chalé , porém também não se assustou ao vê-lo , lhe poupando um sorriso ladino que falava de conforto com sua presença. ❛ eu 'tô tentando ? ❜  disse balançando a mão no ar, as juntas ainda doloridas. ❛ eu consegui os ingredientes, acredite se quiser, mas essa calda 'tá impossível de abrir.  ❜  virou-se para o mais velho, segurando o objeto ofensivo, e sorriu mais largo. ❛ se conseguir abrir , faço um 'pra você também. que tal ?  ❜ 

@juncyoon

[the-voldsoy]

hello my brain latched onto the lyric "rich boys in nightgowns" and now im thinking about how Juno Steel-coded Gloomtown Brats is (im delirious)

[circlique]

Say her name three times, and she will appear.

Another teaser for my fic! I swear I'm gonna post it. It's done, it's ready. I'm just trying to work up the courage ahaha.

[thursdaygrl]

closed starter for @musingmixtape

It wasn't like Ellis didn't knock before barging into Juno's trailer, but he didn't exactly wait to be invited in before he went in. Their hair was up in clips to try and maintain the curly, swoopy structure the hair stylists had worked on for an hour that morning and a silky bomber jacket hung off his broad shoulders as he held his phone screen up for the blonde. "They think we're fucking friends. Is this a joke? Is it like — it feels biphobic."

[sewermageboy]

Yet another "oh this book was Written In The 90s": Cattie-Brie being like 18, and unconscious, when Drizzt (who has known her since childhood) plants a kiss on her :')

[thepassionateapathetic]

Fight | Cont.

Atilla had passed out as he watched the woman feed off the hunter. Well, shit. Oh well. Atilla came too feeling right as rain, however he was sore and he could still taste blood so that let him know he'd been in a fight. That and the fact that where he was waking up wasn't his own dwelling. Sitting up he looked around. Yeah, didn't look or smell like his place. If whoever was around had ill intentions he had the strength to fight or flee at least. Atilla stretched bending his arms and legs, testing everything out. he wondered how he had healed so quickly. Silver tinged knives ususally did a number on him but it seemed he was alright. He sniffed the air, the scent of whoever came to his aid last night clung to this place. "Hello?" He called. @pasiphaedemetriadevil