#;;open

[brightchill]

"Okay, okay- Bonjour. Je m'appelles Jack. I- J'ai fait a l'ecole? Ou est... la College Francoise Dupont? Je suis americain et je ne parlez bonne francais- uh, tu parles- vous parlez l'anglais? Please, please tell me you speak english. I'm dying here."

[cxdemusings]

Sick and Tired || Akechi

Overheating, sweaty, chills, near constant shivering. Skin had paled and vision constantly swimming in an out of focus. Akechi had still managed to keep food in his stomach, but he wasn't sure how long that would last. More than once, a glance was made toward his phone on the nightstand...

But who would come?

Who would help?

Futaba?

...Akira?

He could hardly move at all, his lightheadedness was so disorienting and dizzying that if he tried, his vision would fade for a few seconds until he settled again.

Slowly and carefully, he reached for his phone.

[text: Akechi]: ...I hve a favr [Akechi]: I'm sick nd cant move... [Akechi]: ...ill pay for watr or soup or bth

[sandzephyr]

"Didn't see me coming, did ya'?"

[demcntwins]

|| OPEN || King Phantom & ??? ||

Realistically Danny knew that summoning The Ghost King was a thing that people might do, he'd been warned about it by Pandora and Clockwork. They had told him that refusing a summoning was something that he would be able to do eventually, but that currently he was still to young and untrained and likely wouldn't be able to. Unlike them. That was how he ended up in this situation, appearing out of a summoning circle glowing with magical energy.

His form had instinctively changed to look more like his king form, or as much as it could handle in the human wold. Really that was just his cloak appearing on his shoulders over top of his jumpsuit, and what could only be described as an echo of his crown appearing over top of his head. Finally his eyes landed on the person who had summoned him and he rolled his eyes slightly.

"What do you want? I have a test to study for." History was surprisingly hard when you learned from private tutors your first 8 years only to be thrust into the American public education system and having to relearn the watered down version.

[themarvelliteraryuniverse]

𝕎𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕓𝕖𝕖𝕟?

"Don' worry about it." The words come out before he's even sure someone asked him. He snorts, like that can clear the sting of antiseptic from his senses. His eyes are distant, tonguing the inside of his cheek like he's searching for something. For the excuse he's going to give whoever really does ask where he's been. A blink, a sniff. And then he looks at whoever was stupid enough to come this close. "The fuck do you want?"

[hellishtransmissions]

So he may have taken... several wrong turns. And he may be just a little bit lost... in Hell. It's fine!

[ladamedemartel]

"How is it that the Salem Witch Trials became the most famous? They didn't even burn anyone."

[woodblxssomcrowned]

"..."

"I'm bored."

[nerditudes]

"The mortal world is a mess."

[mixingmuses]

" How in hell did you even get into my hide out,let alone find it!? "

[brightchill]

"If nobody else believes in me, I believe in me. That's kept me around this long. It's sort of a double-edged sword."

[badassitron]

He fell asleep. B didn’t mean to, he was just resting his optics, and then- whoops. Recharging. It’s hard trying to find your way around the surface without a good map, after all. But he’s still gonna do his best!

[cxdemusings]

Release Day || Open

The room had been silent for hours. No TV, no doctors nor therapists asking questions. Just...

Waiting.

Waiting for the okay. Waiting for confirmation. Wondering where he'd go after this. He no longer had a home, that much was obvious when rent went unpaid for months. What...was he going to do?

Presumed missing and possibly dead since his death in Shido's Palace, what was he going to do when he was recognized? He still didn't know who put in that missing persons report for him...

[You're free to go, Akechi-san. The papers for your release have all been signed]

A quiet mumble of a 'thank you' left him and he bowed his head to the staff, heading out to make his way into town. Where he was going exactly, he really didn't know. A scar on his abdomen, a concussion, no place to live...

Maybe he'd spend awhile at a hotel...What all changed, while he was tucked away in his little room for months at a time?

[sandzephyr]

"stop making fun of my hair! It's very humid here and I'm trying my best!"

[themarvelliteraryuniverse]

He doesn't care what he's doing. He doesn't care how he's doing. He doesn't care, and he continues to tell himself that. Day in and day out. In the silence of a morning hunt, in the stillness of midnight. He doesn't care.

He doesn't miss him.

Most times, Victor can believe it. He has enough to do, his focus stays elsewhere. A fight, a hunt, a mission. He'll take anything. Anything that keeps his hands busy and mind clear. Anything that keeps the past in the past.

And yet, there he is. No matter what he does, how far he goes, Logan worms his way back to the forefront of his mind. It could be the smell of a cigar, the roar of a bike, the bright flash of blood on wallpaper. Victor thinks of him.

And he misses him. It aches like a wound torn open again at first. Then it fades to a phantom limb. Something that used to be there, something Victor used to rely on, gone.

The haunt finds him in the middle of the day, staring out the window and watching the wind blow. A brief warmth, a fond reminded of what had been followed by the sharp betrayal of what now was. Victor feels his shoulders tense, his jaw set.

He doesn't miss him. He doesn't need him. Victor's idle stare becomes a glare at his own faint reflection. Repeating the lie like a prayer, a hope that, one day, it'll be true.

He doesn't miss him.