#// verse tbd.
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@therebetterbepie
being in a bar on Valentine's day was a little too cliche for Tim, yet there he was with the rest of the lonely bastards. and California seemed to be full of them. seating himself at the bar was the worst idea, it seemed to make him a target for the already incredibly intoxicated crowd. to the point that Tim had started to pretend that he was deaf and thankful he was proficient in ASL at this point in his life. it got more than enough people to leave him alone so that he could drink in peace.
that is until someone else slides up to the empty space beside him. risking a glance to the side, Tim regrets it instantly when he finds the prettiest green eyes staring back at him. god fucking damnit. suddenly the ASL trick didn't seem like something that he wanted to do if this guy started talking to him. but maybe that was the liquor talking now.
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❝ i told you already, ❞ he says, taking a few test shots, ❝ you're fine. no one is going to see these but me, anyway. you're worrying way too much. ❞ nathan is oddly comfortable, but that must mean it's because he's in his element. he's relying a lot on natural lighting today, the clouds parting perfectly for just enough drab and just enough fab. you're leaning too much, he seems to say, gesturing to stand straighter. there we go. perfect. ❝ see? you're fine. hey, tilt your head a bit for me, huh? ❞ — open ( nathan p. )
#nathan prescott.#ic.#verse tbd.#open.#why not make it an open to anyone interested#i imagine maybe the beach or something but maybe the forest#i left that vague#but he is being nice? so there is that
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@muckcourt ༊ ‧₊˚
❛ What are you doing? ❜
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⸺ ❝ Sooo .. what exactly am I looking at here? Am I supposed to squint? ❞
NO PLOTTING STARTER CALL. // @chapeliier.
#chapeliier#verse tbd.#I wasn't sure if you'd want it in her main verse or where he's from ❤️💙#my boy what are you trying to show her 🤔
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@malka-lisitsa, continued from here.
micah regards her with an equal blend of curiosity and fear in his gaze. strength like that isn't normal or human, but micah can't bring himself to ask the obvious question plaguing his mind. instead… "your cover could be better," micah remarks with a raised eyebrow. sometimes he fails to catch on to sarcasm, however much it was intended. should he be asking her not to kill him or would it be better to hope he doesn't piss her off in some way? he's really good at that — pissing people off. that'd sure be an interesting fucking game. "what'd he do to piss you off?" just so he knows.
#malka-lisitsa#i hope it's okay i continued this!!#micah's like “ok so just don't piss her off that should be a FUCKING DISASTER”#prose: in character writing.#verse tbd.
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★ ╼ &. 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐬 (𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬?) 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬. | accepting
"for being someone you hate, I'm sure on your mind a lot'." - @homelander-rp-blog
It was difficult not to think of Homelander. In so many ways he loomed over Annie like a prolific mythical figure. Despite having the whims of a self-indulgent mortal man. The fact that she still stood there was merely by his will alone. His myriads of abilities made it dealers’ choice of how he could dispose of her. Sometimes she wondered why he just didn’t. It left a palatable thickness in the room when they were alone together.
A faux smile grew upon Annie’s pink lips. “I didn’t realize mind reading was on your list of abilities.” Arms crossed as she shortened the distance between them. Blonde head held high as she mustered all her courage. “What do you want?” Curiosity got the best of her, as there must be a reason for his appearance at this hour.
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"Okay, first of all..."
open to anyone!
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pale blue eyes observe from a distance, following each movement of feet and punch thrown. he remains in the crack in the doorway, amusement illuminating his eyes before he makes himself known, calling out, “ what're practicing for, your next brawl ? ”
vander pushes the door the rest of the way open, choosing to interrupt this practice, r e g a r d l e s s of what it's for. he raises his own fists, modeling the right stance as he adds, “ you're dropping your fists. keep 'em up. it'll give you a better starting point. and you can BLOCK a punch a hell've a lot better. ”
gntlets liked for a starter.
#gntlets#✧ 𝗶𝗰. | starter. → one more part for the storybook.#verse tbd.#i tried to make it vague so this can be pre-show#this can be a fun au where he doesn't even die once#let alone 4 times 🙃#i'm down for whatever#sorry if this is lame it's 11:30 pm and this is my first vander thing i've written in my life
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❝ i won't stop asking until you say yes. look, i'm not like those idiot reporters you see on TV or read online that don't know what the fuck they're talking about. i know there's more to this. i have copies of the police reports. i know you saw something up there, i know you tried to tell the police, and i know they didn't believe you. but me? i believe you ... or i could — if you would talk to me. i'll tell your story ... your way. so, all i'm asking for is one interview. what can it hurt, right? ❞
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𝑺𝒆𝒏𝒅 ‘𝑩𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝑵𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆’ 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒓 𝒍𝒂𝒌𝒆.
The vespertine's lunar wax sets any space not shaded by trees aglow. Even the tops of them are not immune. ⸺ The plunge pool where she floats the middle. The ledge rock homing all her things — a spine-cracked book, half her dressings, the wild strawberries she picked an hour before sundown, an auld lyre. The natural splotch clearings of grass so plush it feels like carpet on the naked sole — she would know.
She's a working on recursive history. Like a cowpath on bournonville's repetition. The same, the same with expecting the same results. So what do you call a change in the chain to someone wine-faced of her imperturbable state?
Certainly not madness. She knows the coruscate figure is a man and she knows he's real. In all those cooltones he sticks out from.
The song sticky in her head dims out to a stop but her somnolence swimming doesn't go with it. One venust eye on him. She pushes sapid waterfall water out of her mouth to make room for words of her own. Her sound slots easy in the eau lapping and the Full-throated nightingales.
❛ We've had the same idea. ❜ After-all, the water is not hers. It only feels like that. So it hardly seems fair to be mad when someone else has come to enjoy it.
𝑓𝑡. @prescitia
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"A'right, you can breathe now. The danger's passed." Having dragged the other into a nook within the rocks, their small shelter shielded them from the sight of a tigrex, who prowled this stretch of its territory after having sensed intruders. Her monsties should be here to collect them soon. Until then, they'd just have to wait out in here.
This world was something else; large, constantly moving and unknown. Compared to things she's experienced before, Pomni was completely out of her element here. The wrong move, the wrong step and readily would these creatures notice her presence. It was the last thing she wanted, while trying to transverse the terrain. But the jester grew ever curious regarding something she saw, that she neglected her steps causing a branch to snap; the typical movie cliche when trying to remain quiet.
The creature moved and before the woman could react, a hand brazenly met on her mouth and she was forcibly tugged away into the crevices of rocks, just out of sight of the larger monster before it truly caught the sense and smell of their whereabouts. Her heart hammered relentlessly against her chest.
Words met her ears and she was quick to inhale the much needed air, holding her breath longer than she had realized. And once she felt more on solid footing, her pinwheels met at the other; Pomni wasn't sure how to exactly feel in the sea of emotions that raged. But she did know where to start her questioning.
⸺ ❝ W-where am I?? What was that thing? Who are you??? ❞ Her mouth shot off bullets from a loaded chamber in quick successions; frankly overwhelmed by the events thus far. This is also when she tried creating a tad more distance between them as well, her arms flailing lightly to showcase the mild panic in her tone.
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15 for Nico di Angelo | @lightcreators
#𝟏𝟓 𝐖𝐇𝐘 - 𝐃𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐂 𝐅𝐈𝐊𝐄
〝 You can't get no SLEEP at night. Do you ever wonder why everyone is out to GET YOU every day? 〞
#lightcreators#♆ | 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐋�� 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐍 | threads.#verse tbd.#♆ | 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐈 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐔𝐄 | queue.
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@halovien has chosen CUDDLE. confirm? ▶ yes. no.
𝐄𝐗𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓. She's always wondered if his hair is as soft as it looks. Now she has the perfect opportunity to test her theory. With his permission granted, Stelle immediately shuffles over closer to him until her side is pressed right up against his own. She looks at Sunday for a moment, maybe two, and then quietly adjusts so she can lay her head against his shoulder. The atmosphere is tranquil and still in the moment.
❝ Thank you for trusting me. Unfortunately, you are now my go-to pillow. ❞
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❝ now listen here, this is important— the proper way to make tea is with milk and two sugars. it should be brick red, not black and certainly not pale and sickly looking. just a splash of milk, no more, and drunk in a sturdy mug. ❞
open starter
#open starter.#ic.#verse tbd.#he could be alive. he could be a ghost *shrugs*#he has strong feelings about tea.
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��� i don't think i've ever been in a room this small before. ❞ his chest is tightening. no way. ❝ you live in a fucking shoebox, @ottersden. ❞
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𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝑮𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑪 𝑯𝑶𝑹𝑹𝑶𝑹, 𝑫𝑨𝑹𝑲 𝑨𝑪𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑴𝑰𝑨, 𝑬𝑻𝑪.
@lauguries's orlok : 𝟸𝟷. sender bites into the receiver's (neck, thigh, etc.) and drinks their blood.
The couloir preternaturally marries terror and salacious. Redresses her will to be scared and squirms her from the inside out in sexual verge. She thinks not of death but something deadlier. The then-some love.
She could only love those that manducate her.
—𝒈𝒍𝒖𝒈, 𝒈𝒍𝒖𝒈, 𝒈𝒍𝒖𝒈...
Intimacy. He hugs her to the bone; a mouth eclipsing the left column. Imbibed her wine — the sweet maceration of her blood thins its way down his throat.
Look at how he holds her and how she lets him. The lolling neck, her crown making parallel to the ground, and her hair almost long enough to touch it. She hands loose off his arm and barely moves as he, the ravager, ravages. Her blinking glossed over in illusion; the pink film of it petal-soft, she sees what she wants to because she feels.
On each swill, heartbeats running lines into his mouth. Intimacy.
Five trembling fingers reach for him. She palms into his shoulder and pulls him in. The halo-shape of her mouth is for the audible breath, the feather-skirting of almost-moans. And in feeling the pleasure of eaten, melts off some of the pain. Or this too marries to make a fold in singular feeling.
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