#v; tbn

[magaprima]

@thecavclry gets The Thing

Perhaps she should have expected this, that something had been wrong. Not just because she had never returned to her, never returned home, for almost three years, but because no scrying spell of Lilith's had been able to locate her, not until now, and this had, essentially, been as much a case of chance as skill.

She'd been trapped here, in this dreary little town, believing herself one of this ordinary mortals, that her life was here and only here.

Fury battled with relief in Lilith's heart and she wasn't entirely sure which would win out; the desire to embrace this moment, or to seek vengeance for the origin of it. Although, if the state of the house and the entirely exploded door was anything to go by, apparently someone had already started.

"And who, exactly, did you believe you were for these..." Lilith took in their surrounding. "...three years?"

[abhorsenslives]

Cont from here @mistyjudgement

"Perhaps... not stop," she panted, her breath ragged from the effort. Barricading the door had been more of a workout than she was used to, and it showed.

After shoving the last table into place, she stepped back to assess their handiwork. "If this slows them down, I’ll count it as a victory." But she wasn’t even close to catching her breath. Her eyes darted around the room, scanning for another exit—anything that didn’t involve the front door.

"I don’t think they’re after us, but after one of us. I just haven’t figured out why yet." She couldn’t recognize the creatures outside. Despite all her years navigating both the physical and spiritual realms, Marianne had never encountered anything like them. They didn’t feel like spirits of the dead... they felt like something more unsettling.

Realizing she’d been too focused on the danger and not enough on her companion, Marianne finally turned to him, offering a tired but apologetic smile. "Sorry for the rush. Hard to think about introductions when monsters are chasing you." She exhaled a shaky breath. "I’m Marianne. I’d say 'nice to meet you,' but I think we’d both prefer to meet under better circumstances."

[potentialbreakupscng]

@signetrings liked for a one liner! ( ginny ! )

" -- What are you doing here?"

[toprayarc]

as water sinks through the back of an oversized t-shirt, spattered onto the bright and bold 'bite me' scrawled across the center, steam rolls out and away from the previously housed bathroom. swirls fresh scents against the rest of the apartment. at a moment's notice, mari comes sweeping out from the shower: grapefruit clung to the twists and turns of her hair, citrus squeezing out of the sides of her mouth. she's nothing but casual air, an allowance to her home, and a trust thickened with a now aforementioned absence.

"did you change your signature scent recently?" — @deadpoolurl.

wade's words spring upwards, wry. a commentary that brings a twitch of a lip, a pluck-up of a cigarette, and a swing to her hip: jutted outward, and sunk to lax states. "sure did, baby." a click of mari's tongue sounds, form navigating to lean over the coffee table — hands folding a lighter into her palm. "but don't get too u — used to it." a grin bares itself clean, a chuckle tempting at the back of her throat. "i'd hate to see you mourn such a brief encounter."

[clochanamarch]

so i fell down a rabbit hole and now i have the hunger ga.mes verse embellished a little more:

aisling is twelve when she's reaped, celebrates her thirteenth birthday in the arena (which is a snowy pine forest that year) and survives by memorizing poisonous and venomous plants and toxins, which she winds up using to inadvertently kill her fellow tribute, who consumes the tea without her knowing and goes on to kill the last career before dying himself, leaving aisling the victor.

the capitol decide not to send her on the victory tour bc a capitol psychologist (ajay) basically insisted aisling was way too traumatized and would ultimately portray the capitol in a negative light. the punishment ended up being ajay's husband getting killed and aisling's father facing the same fate, although not before managing to send her siblings to safety, leaving aisling an orphan and entirely alone.

it wasn't until three years later, when aisling turned sixteen, that an unexpected thing happened. the games didn't have a victor. or at least, the victor they had died shortly after leaving the arena. aisling being the victor's mentor, it was decided she would go in his place and have her own tour. the victor who died was fiachra.

now that aisling was in the limelight, and her talent highlighted in culinary arts, she quickly realized the intricacies of the political corruption in the capitol, and made a deal with the president. she would monitor the risks of an uprising in her district and control them, if he'd allow her to film a cooking show.

and so when she turned eighteen, aisling became the star of café capitol, a rustic and cozy cooking programme that became greatly beloved by the viewers. she cooked capitol dishes, dishes from the districts, fusion food, seasonal meals, you name it. but the most vital detail she refused to omit was her choice to talk about the other districts in detail.

now she had limits. but she still succeeded. "the fish i'm cooking today is a lovely salmon from district 4! it's absolutely beautiful there this time of year, i bet everyone is getting a really great tan!" or "today i'm smoking the bacon over a charred cedar from district 7! all my artistic chefs out there, i gotta tell you, the forests? so beautiful!"

never too much. but enough to get the capitol to start to look at the districts. she'd always do it in an off-hand way. but once the rebellion began, she began to adjust her tact. still friendly and warm, but the message shifted. "we found these blackberries growing near a lake out in district 11, but it's a good thing we made the jam last year, because i think the weather might be a little harsh for them to survive" (aka avoid any conflicts in district 11 as the peacekeepers are too plentiful")

[guidefaithed]

@arc-77

The room they were in was covered in large mirrors and provided comfortable mats on the ground. It was used for all kinds of training and T'Pring had booked it for her and Fordo's endeavor regarding the nerve pinch. She had never thaught it to someone, especially a non-Vulcan. But she recalled exactly how she had been thaught and planned to replicate the process. She gestured at the dummy currently laying on one of the mats. "Since you have expressed apprehension at practising on me, you can practise on this dummy instead. It was made precisely for this purpose. The head will glow red if the pinch was performed successfully. However, before we can start on the dummy, you should see where the correct spots are. Preferably on your own body." T'Pring raised an elegant hand and gestured towards him. "You may undress now."

[topray-arc]

AMANDA YOUNG, SPLAYED UNDER MARI'S MICROSCOPE: a body stitched together with the submersion of soft lips, sapphic hues, the slow pace of breath above their heads— [TILT YOUR HEAD, BABY. I BITE.] find the inseam of mari's sheets. the sewed together slip of her tongue. bring their bodies to a rhythm, a rhyme, a clash-clang of hatelovehateheretouchmehere— (desperation seeps in.) together, they create a broken balance. dazed dreams of once in a lifetime premonitions. mari's hands find the south of a shirt, amanda's palms tug at an expected exit, they both cease with secrets soured beneath their tongue. MARI CAN'T HELP BUT ACHE FOR MORE.

AMANDA YOUNG [@junksaw] : "you’ve been such a pain in my ass."

THE OTHER PARTY PLAYS TAG WITH REGRET. an indication of rushed intentions bounces against the other's features. batters sunken cheeks to flashes of lucidity. hate disguises a language neither of them know— ... GOOD THING MARI CAN READ BETWEEN THE LINES. "didn't think it was that b — bad, baby." her tone teases, but it's soft. low. the dim lighting of flickered emotion surfaces behind dark eyes. "i mean, i know i was a little eager, but—" a half-smile slips, and quiets. a tilt of her head sweeps a gaze over the other, and pauses. "amanda." a level response flails against any playful banter. tenderness twists at the bottom of mari's stomach. "was that— ... are you okay?"

[gloomfaithed]

@regulus-regent / cont. X

Really, could she be faulted for honing in on him? It had taken only one good look and a curious gauge in the Force to know that he was the most powerful individual in this bar. He also had a tail.

Talon too had just come here for a quick refreshment, and this bar was the least grimy. It was preferable compared to the other options. There was no sign of any disturbance or trouble either, so when she had entered the establishment, she would not have expected to be met with such an impressive presence. Interesting. Perhaps he was some kind of bounty hunter? His attire was difficult to assign to any planet known to her.

For now she just sat down at a safe distance right at the bar counter, yellow eyes focused on him and meeting his gaze. He was intimidating, but she had trust in her own capabilities. Besides, he, as much as her, seemingly just wanted a break.

When the barkeep asked her what she wanted to drink, she was momentarily distracted and ordered an alcohol free beverage.

[lightfaithed]

@saburaito

The ship looked like it was only held together by dreams and wishes, but on a remote and poor planet like Tatooine beggars can't be choosers. Finding a transport to the mid rim was already a task in itself and managing to secure a spot doubly so. So even though Obi-Wan didn't feel comfortable boarding the ship, he had no choice if he wanted to travel.

It wasn't too big, holding only six passengers total. Obi-Wan sat down on a seat by the window and crossed his arms. The journey was going to take long, because the ship was a charter flight stopping at other locations first. When all seats were taken, the pilot took off. At the first stop, four passengers got off, leaving only him and another man. The ship took off again to continue the journey.

He had just begun to think that perhaps this journey was not bound to be a great disaster, when they dropped out of hyperspace and practically into the lap of what had to be a large pirate vessel. Obi-Wan fell out of his seat when the pilot made a very sharp turn, dipping the entire ship with a shocked cry.

Obi-Wan only barely managed to keep the other passenger from crashing into him and against the wall by using the Force. It had been a spur of the moment, a quick decision that his muscle memory had basically made without asking him first. He slowed the other's fall. "I got you! I got you."

[manicpanicaddict]

“This part of town isn’t a good place to be at this time of night.” - Jimmy hxuntedshxdows

Egon looked about, not sure at first if was him the comment was directed to. He offered the stranger a glance once he was sure it was only the two of them.

He wasn't exactly sure what to say back; he stood there and absently twisted the curly hair on the nape of his neck between his fingers. In his hometown people seemed to know better than to speak to him. And he didn't really mind that. It was easier that way.

And so only after the silence grew to be more painful than not replying, he did.

"...I don't believe any place is a good place to be at any time of day. We're in Ohio."

[thedeadthree]

I THINK I HAVE A NAME FOR THE W*ITCHER FIC OH MY DARN TOOTIN GODDDD !!!!!!!!!!!!

[quietresistance]

continued from here ╲ ( @songandflame )

                     the muck of the streets threatened to soak through the leather of her boots, but naught but a shove into it might daunt her from her purpose.   frigid fingers of breeze crept about the edges of her coat, seeping even through the layers of wool which clad her from head to toe.   so many of those about her were not clothed with half as much warmth, an ache forming within at the mere thought.   danger too laid in wait.   if she had not been with several companions, all on the same mission, even she would have baulked at exploration.

                     adventure, however, remained the furthest concept from her mind.   the state of some quarters of the city had tugged at more heartstrings at the embassy than her own, a welcome discovery.   in the midst of it all, it seemed so entirely hopeless, even pretentious, but that only gave her the slightest of pauses.

                     no matter how paltry a few thick, new blankets, a few assorted medicines, and bread might be, it might provide some brief comfort.

                     was it how despondent the woman appeared compared to her compatriots?   or the bluish tint to her fingers which katherine could spot even in the dusk?   perhaps she could not have ever said herself, but the woman was the first that katherine approached, wrapping a woolen blanket about her shoulders as words choked in the american’s throat.  

                     it was not merely her first reaction, but then how the woman insisted she would pay for her daughter, clearly intending to give the blanket to the child, thankfully nowhere to be seen on the icy street.   one mitten wrapped about the corner of the blanket, ensuring it would not fall from the woman’s shoulders, katherine set the other atop the woman’s hands, a slight shake of her bonneted head punctuating her accented insistence.     ❝  no, no, madame, it is a gift.   no charge, i swear.  ❞

[potentialbreakupscng]

"you know, malfoy, if you took a picture it'd last longer."

@signetrings ♥

[toprayarc]

if mari dai were to tell the truth, and only the truth, so help her god, she may as well be standing witness. slumped at the precipice. slid across home plate, smacked behind bars, and shoved into the system she's torn apart with every inch of her teeth. if she were to be honest, transparent, the kind of girl who wears her heart on her sleeve— then she may not be mari dai at all ... and if bucky knew any better, he might've accepted that by now. swallowed it as the hard pill it's meant to be. she's a liar, a snake, a sword sheathed in flaming exteriors, and if he's asking her to be anything else: then he's barking up the wrong tree. fallen down the wrong alley. fixating on a fact that no longer is, and if it was mari's choice, then she'd say that it never was.

"you don't get to tell me what's important." — @readapt.

here, the truth is a shattered smack in the face, and neither of them know how to piece back together the shards, but what's new? —not like either of them are particularly put together people, mari thinks, and bites down on the inside of her cheek. bitter. "whatever." she spits out, like a watermelon seed stuck in a revolver: not hard enough to hit, but soft enough to sting. "you're making a b — big deal about shit that doesn't matter anymore." her boot kicks into the rubble, scuffing against the leather of her shoe. arms cross, and her gaze shoots to the side. "it's different, now. —i'm different."

[illwriteatragedy]

MIDNIGHTS;  accepting. @ruinaa​ said:  “  you can face this.  “

          so it goes.  he doesn’t pull the trigger,  twice now.  

          and if he keeps on going,  there has to be something different than the past.  he cannot separate himself from this;  detach and dissociate and let it just happen.  that was the hardest part of it all:  facing himself.  the things that he had done and he had chosen,  the moments that had led him to this point.  he had wanted to consider himself a better man for the people he loved;  he wanted to be more than the weapon he was born to be,  but he had ended up weaponizing love instead.  

           so when he makes that choice,  and he puts the gun back down,  he calls her.  

           she knows he has never been one to talk a lot,  but he lets the conversations go longer once he is back in new york.  he asks her more questions.  he tries to let her know that he wants to see her,  without overdoing it.  when he’s able to ask for dinner,  and when he’s finally able to tell her that he can’t do this anymore,  that he misses her  --  he considers it a step in the right direction.  (  she cries,  he holds her hand across the table,  and they don’t talk about that she’s taken her wedding ring off and he hasn’t.  ) 

            she goes home.  he asks to see her again,  and the second time they have dinner,  he asks to walk her back to shilah’s apartment.  it is there that she must know he is struggling with it;  how could she not?  this was the woman who knew him inside and out,  who had told him that it was okay to be himself,  the first person in the world who saw beyond what he was but what he could be,  and had loved him for it,  and  --  

          you can face this.  

           isn’t it a terrible thing?  for everything he’s done,  to have her still look at him with those eyes,  and to give him this patience once more?  

           “  it should have always been you.  “  it is the first time they are acknowledging it.  “  there’s no going back.  but if i could  --  “  his hands tremble.  he cannot reach out to her,  only to himself right now.  the words are all there,  at the tip of his tongue,  and he should say them  --  say them like he means them,  because he does,  desperately.  “  i should have fought for you,  josephine.  i should have protected you.  it should have never gotten this far.  and  --  i know you’ve taken off your wedding ring,  and i don’t know what that means for us,  but if i have to take every day and show you how much i want this  --  “  

          he stops,  overwhelmed.  (  what would it mean,  if they parted here?  what would it mean for the future?  there has only ever been one option for him.  her.  her.  always her.  )  “  --  everyday from here to the end,  you will always be my choice.  “  

[guidefaithed]

@cosmorot (Aphrodite)

One of the most difficult relationships in the galaxy was the one between Vulcans and love. Love couldn't be any further removed from logic. Yet it was still something every Vulcan felt. To T'Pring it was the hardest emotion to subdue and also the hardest not to act on. A lot of her behaviour was born out of love, but she, like most Vulcans, dressed it up in the garment of rationality. Rehabilitating criminals was now a clear boon to society, instead of T'Pring simply caring for others and knowing she can make a difference in their lives.

She was unsure why, but her present company compelled her to be more honest about the topic than she was used to. "I find it difficult to express romantic affection without being too overbearing. I don't mean to suffocate a partner." Her wants were funnily enough more in line with how humans handled their romantic entanglements, something a Vulcan partner may not find very appealing. "Do you know of those moments where you wish to pursue someone but you fear it could cause them to become more estranged from you?"