Jozthen

EDITABLE REBLOGS NOT WORKING?  WORRY NOT!

so my editable reblogs finally broke.  after doing some 2am digging,  coming up with a redundant solution,  making an  ENTIRE TUTORIAL  for said redundant solution,  and realizing it’s useless,  i’ve got the answer to the problem for everyone.  i’ve joined the xkit support discord server,  and here is what’s been said about the issue so far:

TLDR;  EDITABLE REBLOGS WON’T WORK ON ORIGINAL POSTS,  BUT IT’LL WORK ON REBLOGS WITH REPLIES.  meaning if jane posts a starter and june replies to it  without using editable reblogs,  it’ll create this trail item.  so from then on out,  you can feel free to use xkit’s extension to your heart’s content.

so if you’re getting this issue,  the solution is simple:  DON’T USE XKIT ON THE FIRST REPLY.  yes,  it’ll be ugly,  but everything will be back to normal from there :)

at the dunkerque premiere in nyc

tag dump 2/2.

░  ┊   @hcathens​   。• ◞

    for  once ,    he  appreciates  the  floor  under  his  weight;   legs  stretched  yet  body  unresponsive  to  whatever  the  mind  attempts  setting  on …    what ,   with  shoulders  hunched  and  arms  laying  low ,   his  hands  resting  in  the  gap  between  his  lower  limbs.    the  only  reason  that  neil  is  becoming  aware  of  his  limitations  is  when  numbness  begins  to  settle  along  with  slight  tremors  that  he  can  feel  in  his  fingers. 

    the  way  that  a  thousands’  worth  of  exy  racquet  slipping  through  his  grip  during  the  recent  drill  several  minutes  ago  is  a  tall  tell.  

                                          ‟     I’m  trying.     ❜          voice  strained ,   holding  back  frustrations  veiled  in  the  exhaustion  creeping  in  his  system ,   and  avoiding  having  another  tiring  same  old  arguments  with  kevin.    of  course  there’s  no  time  for  neil  to  sit  on  his  ass  because  the  games  aren’t  going  to  win  by  themselves;   but  ——                    ‟     You  don’t  need  to  remind  me  about  the  nooses  around  our  necks.     ❜

    it  hurts …    but  nothing  worse  that  he  hasn’t  survived  before.    the  anger  dissipates  under  the  silent  acceptance  and  grumbling  under  his  breath ,    annoyed  that  as  when  he  stands  up ,    the  redhead  has  to  hold  onto  his  knees  for  a  while  before  straightening  up.    wincing  slightly ,   frowning  greatly  at  the  disappointment  he  received  when  he  moves  his  right  shoulder  in  a  circular  motion.    testing ,   testing.

                                         ‟     …Let’s go.     ❜ 

his body was made of adrenaline.  

exy was everything that moved kevin since he could remember, that feeling of overcoming the exhaustion was something he was used to. he long learned to ignore his body’s pleas to stop moving in favor of playing, practicing even further. that’s why he was one of the best exy players alive.  that’s why he was the best exy player alive. 

even then, with his racket down while he talked scolded to neil, kevin couldn’t stop moving. body screaming as he moved from one foot to another, small little jumps to keep his body going against it’s own will. kevin never knew when to stop.  all he knew was exy and that didn’t change just because going back to the ravens weren’t a threat anymore.  

he was still playing for his life, afterall …  and so was neil, that’s why kevin pushed him.

accessing his friend’s exhaustion, kevin sighed, stepping back as the younger man followed his order and got up.   —  ❛ two more sets with this drill and we can call it a day ❜  —  grimace twisted kevin’s features with discontent, but he knew better than to push to hard and end up with an hurt neil, out of the games for the rest of the season.  that was a privilege they both didn’t have. 

he changed the racket to his right hand, rolling his left shoulder and frown a little enraged by the fact that he still couldn’t over-work his dominant hand – that he was still afraid of doing it. but it was useful to have that little bit of surprise in the games, being able to hold the exy racket either way.  —  ❛ you’re fast and your shots are getting stronger each day,  but you still lack precision. we need to work on that before the next game ❜  —

          fingers  flex  as  if  playing  symphony  of  aching  knuckles  and  calloused  palms,  testing  smaller  tendons  in  between.   left  hand  holds  pressure  down  on  affected  right  shoulder,  thumb  forcing  abused  muscle  not  to  flare  up  in  similar  to  what  heat  he  feels  all  over  ――   nerve  wires  under  the  pump,  fire  running  through  veins ...

                                                                     𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘭.

                    ‟     𝗡𝗼𝘁 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗲𝗻𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵, 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗺𝗲𝗮𝗻.     ❜      diced  words  for  kevin’s  convenience  while  neil  picks  up  his  racquet  without  bending  too  much;  else,  there  is  fear  that  he’ll  just  collapse  there  and  then  and  be  damned  with  the  consequences.    didn’t  bother  to  look  up  to  kevin  as  he  shifts  his  attention  to  the  hand-chosen  equipment  picked  by  the  exy  legend  himself;   more  so  the  reason  neil  can’t  really  give  up  now.  he  did ,   after  all ,   𝘥𝘪𝘨  𝘩𝘪𝘴  𝘰𝘸𝘯  𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦  𝘵𝘩𝘦  𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵  𝘩𝘦  𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥  𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨  𝘢  𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘵.  

         now  holding  racquet  with  two  hands,  neil  decides  to  shift  the  topic  away  from  things  they  never  really  talk  upon ...    just  like  how  he  looked  so  much  like  death  incarnate  and  how  he  smelled  of  it  and  kevin  never  noticed  from  the  start  until  shit  happened;   and  now,   they’re  here.                    ‟     𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗜 𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝗶𝗻 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗴𝘁𝗵, 𝗜 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘂𝗽 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗲𝗱.  𝗔𝗻𝘆 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝘆 𝗜 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗿𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗲𝗹𝘀𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝘀𝗶𝗱𝗲𝘀 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝗶𝗺  ?     ❜

verses tag dump.

v*.  BURNED TO THE FILTER WITHOUT TAKING A DRAG.  /  undetermined. v001.   THE FOXHOLE COURT  /  this is the moment you stop being the rabbit. v002.   THE RAVEN KING  /  they were worth every cut‚  bruise and scream. v003.   THE KING’S MEN  /  fight because you don’t know how to die quietly. 

░  ┊   @gcroinya​  。• ◞ 

@jozthen​ said:  it’s nothing. it’s just a bruise.

Inquisitive gaze lingers,  scolding and relentless.   One that wordlessly whispers  ‘should’ve known better’  every chance it gets.   Words are not needed,  her expression says it all and,  really,  is there something left to say but at all?   Sometimes a bruise is just a bruise,  god knows she had her fair share of those marking every inch of pale skin;  like a map of violence,  only there was never any treasure to find. 

“Listen,  kid,  you might have charm,  but your right hook is abysmal.”     She holds nothing back,  rarely does.   Not that bite that drips form her words,  not that grin that tugs at the corners of her mouth.   Learning how to defend oneself is vital,  at least in her books,  and that will be the topic she settles on.   Not the bruise,  pale and blue,  not the implication that it carries.

Water drips down her wrist from the bag of ice she’s holding.   They ran out of ice-packs long long time ago,  so a couple of cubes wrapped in a towel will have to do.   It’s a gesture that counts,  is it not?     “Maybe we should work on that next time.”

                        miscellaneous angst starters.  || not accepting

    he  is  not  built  to  stand  his  ground   —— his  mother  made  sure  of  that.    better  to  outrun  the  nightmares  than  getting  caught  back  up  in  them.    so    natha - -    neil  learns  to  bite  back  complaints ,   or   ‘ whining ’   as  mary  would’ve  placed  it  if  she  were  still  alive ,   from  the  other  person  who  at  least  gave  a  shit  in  giving  him  a  fighting  chance.    literally.

                                    ‟     What about the left ?   Fared better ?     ❜          the  brunet  reaches  for  the  damp  compress;   iciness  begin  to  numb  fingers  that  clenched  tighter  and  hurt  less  than  the  pain  they  have  to  endure  against  the  californian  sand.    carefully  situating  the  wet  bag  against  his  left  cheek ,   liking  how  the  cold  dissipates  heat  and  relieves  him ...   before  placing  it  on  his  right  side  to  hold  it  there.    the  boy  shifts  slowly  and  checks  which  is  movable  and  which  is  tolerable ,   assessing  damage.

    looking  up  from  the  floor  he  sits  on ,   observing  the  other  of  unknown  origins.    how  she  didn’t  mince  anything  with  neil ,   like  his  mother  did ,   and  how  he  tries  to  hold  back  the  fear  slowly  creeping  in  his  chest.    as  much  as  he  has  respect  in  females ,   he  thinks  how  terrifying  it  would  be  if  they  met  before  within  his  father’s  business  circles  and  that  neil  couldn’t  remember;   how  this  woman  could’ve  had  a  hand  in  teaching  him ,    just  like  his  father  instructed  lola  to  teach  him.    he  frowns  and  ignores  the  awful  turning  of  his  guts  inside.

                                  ‟     I don’t know why ...   you’re doing this.     ❜          neil  begins  with  a  cautious  tone ,   choosing  wise  words  that  won’t  offend  the  lady.    why  now ,   of  all  times ,   did  a  beacon  appear  when  he’s  almost  tipped  to  the  edge ,   ready  to  give  up ?          ‟     What do you get out of it ?     ❜     

- Neil Josten’s Drag of the Century, Chapter 6, The Raven King

                         ‟     𝗧𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗳𝗮𝗶𝗿, 𝗜 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱'𝘃𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗶𝗴𝗻 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗜 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱𝗻'𝘁 𝗯𝗲 𝗯𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗜 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗲𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗺𝘆𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳, 𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗶𝘁 𝘀𝗮𝗶𝗱   ' 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥 ' .    ❜

                          ▬▬▬▬  ＆；   @puridior  ， sc.

run,   boy,   𝐫𝐮𝐧  !

i  literally  talked  about  andreil  rights  in  two  hours  to  drag  my  friend  into  aftg  hell  with  me  last  night,  and  guess  what,   i  might  finally  finish  this  cursed  josten  blog.