@3EVES

begrudgingly moved.

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begrudgingly and impatiently moving. @3eves !!!

[tragicplay-gone]

begrudgingly and impatiently moving. @3eves !!!

[tragicplay-gone]

begrudgingly and impatiently moving. @3eves !!!

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any threads and asks on here are going to be continued on @3eves btw..

[tragicplay-gone]

begrudgingly and impatiently moving. @3eves !!!

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@forwardmoved ... “you are the leader for sure. you're the leader.”

evan is talking himself out of his own idea again. if jammer’s learned anything about evan is that he lacks the confidence. he cares about him, always had since day one, but he wouldn’t say he knows what’s best for him, especially in a place where magic is right around every corner ( hell, he even saw it first hand with evan’s shadow during the scuppers game that one time ). jammer speaks to him casually, voices his thoughts as suggestions than a concrete game-plan.

index finger and thumb wipe his upper lip, softly pinches the skin en route before a hand wraps around the other’s shoulder.

jammer’s had his share of lazy coaches, not-so-discreetly giving up their role the moment they recognize the conviction he carries his school’s sport team with. to have it fall onto his shoulders time and time again to lead their school team to victory is momentous as it is tiresome. “there isn’t one person leading the team. there is the coach, then there are the players. you might think the coach is the leader and in a way, yeah, they are… but they know all the players and what their skills are. they motivate the players : if the coach’s feeling good, the team’s feeling good / if the coach sucks, then it shows. on the court, each player is a leader — follow the ball, toss the ball to the center, to the point guard, right? if someone wants to hog the ball then everything crumbles. the coach and the players have to work together in order to succeed.”

this isn’t some sports team. this is the goat house. and more importantly : this is the pilot program. it’s what evan brings to the team that counts.

“the pilot program isn’t just the exchange students. it’s our friendship. you're just as important to the group as any of us — as important as k, as important as sam, as important as me, alright? you may feel like you’re doing nothing on the bench but you’re not. you’re hyping us up, you have our backs like kent bazemore. listen, if you vibe with it, i vibe with it. if you don't, i don't. keep the line of communication open, alright?”

[thestormcoastarchive]

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keepsake for this blog (and me, personally)..

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mia read the isobel diary in her voice. i shall sit in isobel thoughts,,

[sylvansleuth]

Triangulation, yes!

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@moonache … “you’re lucky you’re cute.”

works like a charm : convince some unassuming stranger to do her bidding. saves her several silver and the effort to assure the barkeep of her innocence. vex is capable of playing to her strengths—lean into her charming prescence in a dire situation or stick her nose into anything peculiar. yet it is only when she needs to be that she plays her cards. if vax were here, she would've talked the night away while he stealthily stole back their coin and probably more too. unfortunately, his absence is the very reason she is here, inside the city walls, in the first place... ( said to be back a few hours before sundown, and it's currently after sundown ).

vex’ahlia is oil to the cities' waters ; dares not to touch, prefers to stay around its perimeters. people stare, people judge. syngorn taught her that much than anything those elven teachers haplessly tossed her way. it rubs her wrong / makes her needlessly tense / almost expects some sort of punishment. if she could be back in the woods with nature's unbudging eyes, she would.

fortunately for her, stumbling into a kindred spirit at the inn she searches her twin for alters her plans slightly. she's refrained from mentioning her twin, wary of the other’s intentions, and simply talks. asks about the city, notable spots, pasttimes, et cetera et cetera. vex can have fun too, all while searching for her scrawny brother.

“you don’t look half-bad yourself, darling.” emphasized endearment, layered thick with amorous invitation. vex downs the last of her drink. forgets the worries of her missing brother, forgets the city's gawking. mug hits the countertop with a solid thud.

gaze falls onto her new friend. “be a dear—will you?—show me around. can’t seem to shake you off and clearly you’re desperate for some company.”

[fenthiras-deactivated20251228]

sad bear grunts ( “please don't leave me.” ) from trinket

" oh, trinket. it's just for a little while, love. "

features soften and the half-elf kneels beside her familiar, lips stretching into an affectionate smile. the massive bear grunts in response and nuzzles her, burying his snout into the crook of her neck. his nose is cold and wet, and his breath is hot on her skin; all part of owning a bear, really. and vex wouldn't have it any other way.

the half-elf gives trinket a few reassuring pats, rubbing beneath his jaw and bestowing his muzzle with a kiss.

" you know that i could never really leave you, don't you? were it up to me, i'd let you inside in a heartbeat. it seems some people simply don't have the heart to see a creature of your size, that's all. i'll be back before you know it. "

[weltenwellen]

Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life

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so normal thinking about how sylas would’ve wanted delilah to be by his side when he died but she wasn’t, because she was desperately searching for a cure for him. and she found something, she succeeded, but returned to him just as he passes…

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@storiesbreathed … “what else was i supposed to do?”

every day the spider queen makes it difficult for ted to communicate with her twin. unfortunately much more, as of late. each tug in this mental war takes a part of opal away... she feels it — their connection, this tether between them becoming taut, almost on the verge of snapping. and ted is losing to the spider queen.

ted always saw what opal saw (she was, after all, her literal eyes ; the sight for a bodiless patron / a missing sister). but now, now there are moments where ted can’t see. a blanket of darkness, as if she were dead (but she’s not, she doesn’t think, simply elsewhere). she criticizes, screams, and yells in the void and where once opal would acknowledge, there is nothing. nothing to tell her to ‘shut up,’ to second-guess her judgement. simply ignorance.

yet ted can hear, vaguely, floats between the muffled voices of the crown keepers on the outside to weird words / uncharacteristic threats uttered by her sister she’d never think of her to speak. she can only chalk it up to one cause… ted knows what it’s like to be overtaken, not in the same manner, of course — her and poska months ago, physically ripped from opal’s soul to become a towering monstrosity of a corpse. the only difference between poska and the spider queen is that the spider queen’s a constant.

“no. you’re… you’re doing everything you can. you’re just her vessel…” opal cannot control what she does, is only influenced by her. despite all their sisterly bickering, ted feels responsible ; she is the shield to opal’s sword. what purpose is the shield if not to defend? if not to push out the forces? “it’s my fault that the spider queen is able to slip through the cracks so easily. it’s my fault… i’ll… i’ll just have to try harder next time to distract her, to do something. i don’t know.”

“you’ll get through this,” she whispers. it’s best to cherish the little pockets of breath she has with her. only to opal, is ted there physically, a ghost of a touch, as she scoots closer to her sister. taking hand within hand. “we’ll get through this.”

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@shirelike … “how much do you wanna bet?”

makoto stops as he does, crimson eyes falling onto the arcade machine he directs her to. bright lights flash and glow on both sides of the box before them and somehow, someway, in this equally brightly lit game center, does this one’s screen snatch their attention. makoto’s most inclined to the tacky game montage showcased : countless pixelated explosions, laser guns and robots, and 3D modeled anime characters flying across some place reminiscent of shibuya crossing ( the storyline? remains unclear ; they arrived when the gameplay appeared with the text overlay begging for coins to breath ).

although seemingly absorbing all the information she could from its soft volume afar, it’s a preview makoto’s seen too many times to count / a machine cradling plastic weapons hands are all too familiar with holding, lying in wait. shoes are on the move without hesitation, already securing a spot... just in case.

“we don’t need to bet.” a hand hovers over makoto’s lips as she chuckles. “i’ve seen you beat your own high score at the rhythm game we played at earlier—twice. let’s just say that energy is all i need to know... do you want to go at it?”