@ofhumanvoice would swim the moat to be here

“He is a wolf, my lady,” Gwynplaine said pulling the animal back. His scarf wrapped securely around his misshapen mouth. “He barks but does not bite.” He gestured back towards the wagons where the rest of the evening’s entertainment had set up their temporary camp. “My father Ursus tamed him when he was a cub and named him Homo. Homo homini lupus. His own little joke.”

More and more carriages were approaching the castle some from as far away as the island empire of Nihon. The princes of Kieste, Lützelburg, Lotharingia and Kassel were in attendance. While princesses from Ramschied, Longobardia, Breteyne, Lottringe, Stygia and Týskland were just arriving. 

Gwynplaine supposed it was like a carnival or market for the wealthy. Where the princes and princesses could be sold at such and such bride price and so and so dowry. Pretending afterwards there were allies when such promises would be forgotten at the earliest convenience. 

‘ don’t look at me like that. ’ (eleanor for jackie)- @ofhumanvoice

Clenching her jaw, Jackie roughly grabbed ahold of Eleanor’s elbow dragging her into the hospital’s chapel. “ Don’t look at you like fucking what? That I don’t love you? IT’S BECAUSE I FUCKING DO ELEANOR.” Exclaimed Jackie while throwing her hands up in frustration. “I have always fucking loved you! It always has been you! For the last 16 years of my marriage, that’s one of the reasons why Kevin and I divorced!” The shorter woman stepped closer to Eleanor, tears welling up in Jackie’s eyes. “Aside from my drug problem, I went into rehab. I went to Rehab after I almost died because you were fucking right. Kevin left me, he took my girls. I almost died and that quite frankly scared the shit out of me!! The whole time, I was in that trauma room. I thought of nothing but you.” Jackie ranted absentmindedly while stepping closer to Eleanor grabbing her hands. “ I went to rehab for seven years for you, in hopes of mending our friendship. In Hopes that we could be more than friends, I fucking love you Eleanor. All of the fucking things I have done, I wish I could take back. P-please just don’t leave me…. Like everyone else in my life.” Said Jackie as the tears she has been holding back finally spilled over the edge. “ I know and understand that I don’t deserve another chance, after all the ones you already have given me. I’ll admit that I screwed up Big time. I regret every single thing in my life, aside from my daughters, and you. Because I fucking love you, and I know you must feel it too. Eleanor, please…. Forgive me.” Breathed Jackie as tears spilled down her face, she looked into Eleanor’s eyes with nothing but love and regret for her best friend.

WOULD THAT WE WERE NEVER PARTED. 

[  edits from spartacus  *ੈ✩‧₊˚   mutuals may reblog / personals do not interact   ]

(You don't have any memes that don't involve dialogue so I'm improvising for my smol son) Grogu toddles over to Milo, holding some crushed flowers in one of his tiny hands. He holds his hand out to the goat, palm open, and looks at him with an expectant smile.

the little goat waggity wags his tail as little friend approaches  .  inspecting the crushed flowers with a sniff, he gently nibbles a few .  they are delicious  !  a contented bleat, milo wishes he could return the favour .  does his friend eat hay  ?  wylan and jesper always had a fresh hay delivered  !  a soft huff, the little goat leans his head forward to press a soft bonk against grogu’s  .  

“You are worth spoiling, and it’s not even spoiling, it’s just me helping my daughter while she's pregnant.” (eleanor doing the mom thing even though she's still weirded out by the idea she's going to be a grandma)

" Mum, you bought the twins literally EVERYTHING. We do not know if they are identical or fraternal or even girls or boys." Emma said softly as she lays on the couch in Eleanor's office, stroking her bump Emma sighed annoyed at the constant back pain.

@ofhumanvoice​: “How did they get a hold of that?” (Farah)

There’s something that irks him about the newest head of their department, something that tickles just beneath his ribs and spreads like fire, akin to an itch that he can’t quite scratch. Maybe it’s the way she seems so hell bent on team players, the idea that her insistence to come along on nearly every operation has made each and every one feel like quarterly review day.. or perhaps it’s nothing more than the addition of an unknown player to a carefully scrutinized board already straining against it’s confines. 

The file hits the corner of his desk with an audible slap and Lucas quirks a brow, closing the window on his monitor with one click while the fingers of his other hand pull the folder closer, gaze studying the photograph set atop it. Blurry, but the subject is gathered all the same. A stocky man shaking the hand of a taller stranger in a crisp suit.. and he doesn’t need to look at what the sharper dressed of the two is holding, but he pretends all the same. A usb drive..and a folder.  Both supposedly safe in the grid after their operation to retrieve them a few days before.. and yet...

A single brow arches, expression unwavering and words flowing between them with the dry humor of a man who has long grown bored. If it’s some confession of guilt she’s after ...alas, Lucas North doesn’t miss a beat.

“Maybe the one we retrieved was a ploy, a decoy. Or, maybe it was the real thing and we lost it out the bloody window when you took that curve in Clapham.”

Starter/ Plotting for @ofhumanvoice

When Musa’s mother died, the young thirteen year old fairy felt everything Melissa felt. When Melissa succumbed to her illness, Musa was devastated and traumatized by her own fairy magic. Hearing that Musa had a father, her grandfather dropped young Musa off on Alfea’s doorstep. subconsciously Musa held her backpack and suitcase closer, waiting for someone to answer the front door. It was half past midnight when Musa was discovered on the entryway, by Saul who was doing his nightly rounds with Farah. Crouching down Saul picked up the young sleeping fairy, and followed Farah inside. 

@ofhumanvoice​​ continued

“It’s not a tough act to follow when I can barely remember her in the first place.” 

@ofhumanvoice​ said: “i’m going kiss you now. unless it’s going make you run away again.” (from cora~)

      He tried to sound harsh as he looked into her eyes, her standing there mere inches away from him but his heart heart wasn’t in it. “You’re not going to stab me in the back at the same time, are you?” 

@ofhumanvoice (x)

she plays a game with eleanor— toys with the concept of flirtation and then tries to silence it. but they talk too much in the hallowed wood of an old chapel, and they chuckle too much on linoleum floors, and alana wears black leather gloves to keep her away. she prays she can avoid bare skin, awaiting and incredibly aware of her weakness.

she doesn’t like bare contact because it happens just. like. this. just like eleanor’s finely manicured nail tucked under her chin and her body freezing immediately. those eyes turn upward, seek out without being able to stop herself. and when that mouth’s on hers, the little therapist nearly bolting, her freeze instinct switches to faun and she’s kissing her back. the good doctor drops her book, truly. umberto eco’s foucault’s pendulum thuds to the floor forgotten like all the sense that touch has sent rushing from her body. hands, her own, short nails vibrant red, cling to the lapels of a coat to keep a closeness sacred.

“ fuck. —

fuck you. ”

it’s the bright flush of pink in her cheeks, demure as a doe, unintentional. her words don’t hold her usual venom. they’re not acerbic. they’re almost soft. like she isn’t holding tight to eleanor with a pathetically vice-like grip, and like those pretty, coral pink lips don’t bow to a heart shaped pout. her eyes are white-blue.

she should’ve known better. dr. bloom is horrendous at self-control. and she really likes it.

Grogu is in the midst of a staredown with Pantalaimon. When the daemon suddenly changes form, however, the little one startles with a small squeak, stumbling back until he bangs into Lyra's legs.

Lyra winced slightly at the small body colliding with her legs but couldn’t help but giggle a little at Grogu’s surprise. Of course those unfamiliar with dæmons would be even more taken back by the unsettled ones like Pan whose forms could shift.

“It’s alright,” she says, lowering herself down to be more on his level and giving him a gentle smile. Grogu is a sweet little thing, Lyra likes him a lot. “He does that. Are you okay?”

@ofhumanvoice (erik & christine)

"angel, you ask too much-!" trembling fingers sift through the sheet music of what they were to practice next. she could hear the distant distant sound of the cast laughing and teasing amongst each other while she sat alone in her dressing room. the dressing room that was her sanctuary and source of solitude. but he was there. she wasn't so alone with her angel just beyond her sight and all around her. swallowing thickly as one hand set down the papers to press to her throat in careful thought as she read over the sheet in her other hand. she wasn't capable of this. not these notes. not her voice. not her voice that carlotta mocked and the others teased.

"not this aria. i-i don't believe i can." she never argued with him. or questioned him, but surely not this aria. not her voice though she felt like his voice lifted and shaped hers, but...this aria belonged to a skilled singer. not her.

“So pregnancy brain is apparently actually a thing. I left my phone in the refrigerator and couldn’t find it for hours.” (farah for florence)

Biting back her laugh as Florence graded papers, " Ah it is very real. I once folded up my laundry and unintentionally started filling the chest freezer with laundry." the younger fairy laughed as she sat her grading pen down, " how's my little sister doing today?" Florence said referring to her unborn sibling she was guessing the gender on.

❛ it’s not about wanting or not wanting. ❜ (for daenerys from mama alysanne)

SHE IS A STUBBORN CHILD. Her mother has given her an education befitting any king's son. She is too willful for her father's liking, and too clever to not understand why.

❝ Aemon is too shy, Muña, ❞ She insists anyway, ❝ The council would frighten him and boss him around. ❞ After all, Daenerys bossed him around often enough to know. ❝ If I was queen, he could just read his books and be happy. I might even let him be my husband. ❞ This all seems perfectly reasonable and tidy to her mind, as a girl of ten-and-two.

‘ I’LL BE RECORDING this, if you don’t mind. ’ no matter how the words may fall from her lips she is firm as she sets the phone on the table between them, recording app open. in her lap she hold a notepad still, one to be filled with half formed thoughts about demeanor and ticks. ‘ whenever you’re ready. ’

@ofhumanvoice​ / / starter call