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"I assume a vampire would love another vampire. Or someone capable of long term existence. Or... Perhaps one who decided to be with someone mortal."
He watches the vampire continue his prowl, not necessarily one to stop him. Though the chittering rats in the distance might beg otherwise for this endeavor. Whatever was going on beneath the floorboards, there's the sound of something alien that faintly pierces through the stillness of the air following after the vampire's question. Squelching. Pulsing. Something akin to a heartbeat.
Connor remains at a distance.
The Absolute were known to have ties with the tadpoles, that much was known. Tadpoles were aberrations. Aberrations meant noises like what's below them was to come in spades.
"Something at rest. Growing. Or something feeding."
"Reproducing, maybe. Those are my four guesses."
All based on personal experience.
"I would advise keeping distance."
Astarion swatted the tentacle away with an annoyed flick of his wrist, deflecting it from the rings tucked in his pocket. “Hm?” Love, was it? “And who exactly would a vampire love forever? Falling for someone, for us undead, is little more than self-martyrdom.” A scoff, eyes narrowing. “Anyone we hold dear is bound to die, one way or another.”
Yet, there was something more to those words.
If Astarion hadn’t yet been in love, at the very least, he’d certainly entertained the thought of it in his darkest, loneliest hours.
Before Connor could jab at him over this, crimsons locked onto a small, hidden trapdoor, obscured by years of dust and neglect. The vampire then walked over and pried it open with the ease of someone well-versed in disturbing things best left untouched. Dust billowed up, threatening to choke the air— unbothered, Astarion simply halted his breathing.
“Curious…” Astarion muttered, lips curling into a smirk. “What do you suppose we’ll find down there?” With that, he slipped into quieter steps, his stance practically a ghost against the floorboards.
Basements were seldom empty and often hosted many a horror– things that were better faced when one had the upper hand.
Astarion expected nothing less than monstrous in a place like this.
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@tilldeaths
"Let me guess--you're either one of my daughter's friends OR one of my grandkid's friends."
"Then again, you look a little lost."
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location: the pond, the woodrow estate
date: saturday 2 september, 2005
@woodrowhub
carmen knew she was avoiding everyone. as more of the wards had descended upon woodrow house, she had retreated. this was not her usual way. in the past when they had come to visit the house - when she had still called it home - she had always made an effort to spend time with her fellow wards, since those moments were few and far between. but there was not an energy of reunion hanging over the house. there was a spectre of death and an unshakeable air of grief that had started to feel suffocating.
so she had escaped outside, hoping for a moment of peace, before she had to field more questions she didn't have answers to. but she got the sense she wasn't alone before she heard the footsteps behind her, approaching the edge of the pond where she was sitting, feet dangling in the water, her shoes abandoned beside her.
"sorry i was just getting some fresh air," she said, raising her hand to shield her eyes from the sun, unsure why she was apologising. but saying sorry felt like the only thing that felt natural at the moment.
"i'll come inside soon."
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@companypride
Jack stares into the bathroom mirror, rubbing lavender scented moisturizer into his face with quick, circular, motions. He spends extra time along the edges of the scar emblazoned across his face, though the scar itself is a lost cause. The skin along the edges is rough and raised, the vault symbol itself burned deep into his flesh and solidified into a metallic silver crust. It's not skin anymore; part of why it can't be repaired. His face belongs in a fucking museum- as far as his doctors can tell, nothing else like it exists.
Rhys is still in his bed, presumably. The front door won't unlock without his biometrics. It's the first time Rhys has been in his bed, though not the first time they've had sex. Usually it's in an office, either Rhys's or his own. Usually it's quick, informal. But, eating a home cooked meal alone under a enormous elaborate chandelier at an enormous expensive dinner table was feeling particularly pathetic now that the adrenaline rush of having a real flesh and blood body again was beginning to grow old. He'd bet Rhys's life on the assumption that Rhys hadn't eaten anything in days that hadn't come out of an Atlas vending machine. So, he called him up. One thing led to another.
And now he has a decision to make; leave the mask off, or put it back on. It's really not much of a decision. Sleeping with it on would be worse. Discomfort aside, refusing to be seen with it off in his own turbomansion would only highlight the fact that he's insecure. It's better to own it. He never wore the mask in the evenings with Nisha. But, Nisha was there. Nisha knew what had happened and knew to never say a word about it. Rhys is different.
When he enters the bedroom, he has only a plush, dark grey, towel around his waist. His hair is only wet around the edges; he didn't wash it, but he wasn't able to fully avoid it while washing his face in the shower.
He strips the towel off in front of his closet, making sure Rhys gets a good view of his perfectly sculpted ass. Any excuse to show off. He pulls on a pair of super soft boxer briefs, black with yellow details, and hangs the towel on a nearby hook. Then he flops down on the bed beside Rhys, giving him a grin and a flirty inflection of his voice. "Hey."
#[i didnt mention that rhys was lovingly wet wiped down but he was]#[no sticky 🙅♀️🙅♀️🙅♀️🚫👎]#[i forgot because I wrote this at work in ten minutes]#companypride#threads;
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Connor's presence lingers in defiance, a direct challenge to the other undead. No distance between them could keep him safe. The air around them becomes colder than usual. And once again, gravity becomes heavier. Astarion's feet would feel as if he were tethered to stones by the ankles.
In a flash of intimidation, all four arms extend outwards, making himself appear bigger. Connor would accept the slap, but he'd make it abundantly clear that he's not something to be beat upon. Though Astarion didn't seem the type for that, he's not running any risk for miscommunication.
"I am not like your other conquests, if you could even consider me as one. I want to make that known."
An equal ache has made its home within the confines of the skeleton's ribs, setting up a livelihood and preparing a future for itself. It was heavy, like a weight of its own. Connor would like to think its heavier than whatever force he wills upon Astarion with his otherworldly attunement to the forces tethering them to this planet.
"How long have you pretended to like me for what I am, Astarion? I must know. I think that it's only fair. If you wanted protection from me, you needn't resort to seduction."
Connor's body language drops in hostility, arms dropping to his sides as he maintains a relaxed posture. As relaxed as a skeleton could get. But maybe it's less relaxed and more... exhausted.
"Did you even enjoy any of what we've done?"
Arms draped across his chest. From a distance, it might even look like Astarion had pulled them close for comfort, as if they could ward off that vile sentiment still making his skin crawl with the memory of that… thing forcing its way down his throat. It was a sickening reminder of his own helplessness– of a body tainted by too many hands and just as many tongues he hadn’t wanted. Hadn’t asked for either.
Violation of this kind was so familiar to him that it buried any chances for a more visceral reaction.
I’ve been through worse, Astarion told himself.
He knew there was something deeply wrong with that— his reaction told Connor as much, spat it in the skeleton’s face with all the fire those limbs could summon. For all the good it did him.
The skeleton couldn’t even feel it, could he? Any fury or protest would only rattle against those bones… drown in those empty eye sockets.
Connor, that wretched bone frame of ambivalence, was back at it again, grafting limbs to his ribs, a mockery of reassembly as if he could stitch himself whole by force of habit. And there the vampire stood, watching, half-turned but not entirely invested as he fixed a distant stare on that sorry reconstruction. And it was in those soulless eyes and long phalanges that Astarion found a message… some trite moral about accepting him as he was, not what he could have been.
But Astarion wouldn’t hear it, not from him.
Instead, he stayed, two… three feet apart. Whatever distance he’d managed to set between them by shoving the creature off and, for now, that would have to suffice. That buffer, however slight, struck like relief. Though it couldn’t have possibly erased him from the hurt, the betrayal that he felt.
And it was there that Astarion realised just how much an undead heart could still ache.
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Cont. from [x] @berylcluster
"Oh come on, of course there is!" Scott retorted. "These are farmers, they only grow the best. And besides, they can't make a good buck if they have a dumpy inventory." Cassie in the distance, holding a fairly large pumpkin over her head for her father to inspect it. Her eyes curious while she mouthed - "Yes? No?"
No, Scott shakes his head and waves his hand to put that one down. She can find better. "Oh, you want the pumpkin Linus sought for, eh?" His brow arched in his mentor's direction. "Y'know you are the king of shrink and growth tech. What, for once you don't want to meddle with something's particles?" Scott chuckled. "I take it you never heard of the 'giant pumpkin contests' some fall events hold. You'd get a kick outta how many farmers push the limits on pumpkins." Cassie holds another pumpkin in the air, slightly struggling to hold the heavy pumpkin over her head, she stumbles in fact. Now, with better balance, she holds the pumpkin a little better in the air. She mouths "Yes? No?" again.
Scott gives a thumbs up. Her eyes and smile beam at her small success. "Great, now- " he begins. "Peanut and I have our pumpkin. Let's go find yours now. Janet'll love it," Scott pats Hank's shoulder to nudge him to the farm's selection.
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[continued from here]
@illsuiteddowner
Arthur’s in a hurry. Jack, less so, but he's prepared. He'd already packed his bag full of absolute necessities; what small amounts of food he's been saving and a few personal belongings. Anything else can stay in the pneumatic tubes.
Though he doesn't know which hatch they might end up in next, he's sure they will end up in a hatch soon enough. He's not going to allow Arthur to sleep in mines or alleyways the way he's done in the past- beds are a necessity now.
When Arthur heads for the ladder, Jack grabs his bag and swiftly follows. (It's understandable, he reasons, to admire Arthur's long legs and nicely fitting trousers the entire way up the ladder. It's not like he has anything else to look at.)
Once they've reached the surface, he nearly links arms with Arthur- mostly, but not entirely, to keep him from taking off. He thinks better of it and keeps his hands to himself.
“To Apple Holm! Off we go! It's… this way, I think.” On second thought, maybe he'd better let Arthur lead the way.
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❛ actually , i think i better get going … it’s late and … ❜ (for outlast trials verse from human! Borna!)
“Oh, but the doctor is almost ready for you, dear!” She's been reassured that Dr. Futterman will handle it, though he isn't handling it yet. He's finicky like that. Always busy. The goose puppet is still on her hand, of course, but the deadly drill at the center of it is retracted and the goose remains silent.
Regardless, Borna is cornered. No way out other than to fight or wait for Gooseberry to get bored of chit chatting. “You don't have anything to worry about. You're not a nasty little thief like those other awful children. Are you?”
#bruxsaria#[it sounds like theres context missing but theres not. she just has a loose grip on reality]#[also idk if youve played trials but its basically identical to dead by daylight]#[same concept of her being a killer on a specific map and a team of human players being let in to complete tasks]#threads;
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❛ you? kill me? that's funny. ❜
@dosminius
“I mean, I'd prefer not to!” Jack isn't one to pull a gun on someone if he's not willing to use it; he's definitely willing. But, anything that can be solved without needless death is, of course, preferable. Hell, he doesn't even know if a gun will do anything to this guy- he's obviously not human. Unfortunately, that's the entire scope of Jack's knowledge of the man.
He probably shouldn't have checked out this particular report without backup. But, how often does ‘guy with crazy eyes making threats’ actually pan out to be anything more alien than drugs or mental illness?
“Just answer the question and no one has to kill anyone. What do you want? Why are you here?”
#[I'm assuming jack doesn't recognize this regeneration of the Master]#[can either be set before or after his canon interactions with Saxon Master idc]#[they both time travel who knows when anything is happening]#threads;
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Oh God Not You Again || Elias & Gael
TIMING: Late September
LOCATION: Downtown Wicked’s Rest
PARTIES: Elias (@eliaskahtri) & Gael (@lithium-argon-wo-l-f)
SUMMARY: Elias arrives back in town, only to run into the one face he dreaded the most.
CONTENT WARNINGS: None
It had been a few months, but Elias finally felt like he had his head back on his shoulders. Sure, there was nothing like a brief respite and throwing oneself head-first back into work to do the trick. He had gone home, sought a therapist, and returned to work. After the incident with, well… faeries. He had been reassured that everything was in his head, and the medication would help him feel right as rain again. Still, the dread bubbled in his chest as he drove into town, the sunny day throwing off what ELias felt should have been a dreary, awful day.
Finally, they had made it to Wicked’s Rest. After an agonizingly long car ride from Santa Barbara, California, to Wicked’s Rest, Maine, Elias got out of his car outside of what was now his apartment. Smack in the middle of the heart of downtown, thanks to his assistant, Naya. Naya exited her car behind him, her excitement visible on her face. “I haven’t been home in so long!” She exclaimed as she clapped her hands together, then threw her arms around him and into a hug.
Elias went rigid at the contact. He didn’t do hugs, not anymore. Ever since he first told Naya that he had accepted the position in Wicked’s Rest, he felt nothing but dread. There were people he had left behind, people he’d rather not see. Awkwardly returning the hug briefly, Elias pulled away and looked above the shop to see where his apartment was. “Fully furnished, so you don’t have to worry about moving in and buying anything,” Naya spoke as she handed over his key. “And I’m across the hall, so if you ever need anything, you know where to find me.” She shot him a smile before taking a step back toward her car. “And if you don’t mind, I will say hi to my family.” She grinned, unable to contain her excitement, as she let out a giddy scream before hopping back into her car.
As Naya drove off, Elias felt all of the remaining energy he had to leave his body. He didn’t want to be here. But he also couldn’t tell his assistant no to the possibility of being able to move home and be with her family. A people pleaser until the end, that’s what he was. Staring down at the key in his hand, he screwed up his face before turning to look down the street. He wasn’t ready to go inside yet.
Still, if he waited around in the heart of downtown, he was bound to run into someone he didn’t want to see– and that’s when he saw him. Gael walked right toward him. Elias glanced around and suddenly found that he was desperate to see how quickly he could open the door to the stairs that would bring him to his apartment. Taking advantage of not being recognized, he desperately wiggled the handle to the stairwell.
Then, he heard that familiar voice. Shit. How was he going to explain himself? Hey man! I know we had this brief thing or whatever, but then I had a complete mental breakdown that left me feeling like I was one move away from a permanent hotel California situation, so I fled in the middle of the night. Never mind, I just left a note that said, “I’m not safe here anymore,” and left. Haha! Funny, right? Elias glared at the door handle that had betrayed him and slowly turned himself around, every movement of his feet like it physically pained him to do so. “Hello.” He said in a clipped, awkward tone. “Funny seeing you here.” He pointed at the door. “Door sticks,” he said flatly, the normally chipper man completely devoid of emotion.
There was a lot on the professor’s mind nowadays, between the last set of full moons, his subsequent conversations with select people, the nagging ideas in his brain that woke him up more frequently than usual and now, most recently and suddenly, a familiar scent that filled his distracted senses as he left the apartment of one of his acquaintances he had gotten to know recently. Gael, briefly standing in the hall like a weirdo, turned his head slowly as he inhaled slowly, deeply. That smelled like…
No, it wasn’t. It couldn’t have been. Elias was on the other side of the country again or… so Gael presumed. He’d been absently keeping up with the engineer’s endeavors after that cryptic letter left on his kitchen counter months ago, about how he had been making groundbreaking steps in the bioengineering and prosthetics world. Naturally, he was happy for the man but at the same time, he kept thinking about that letter. It was one sentence, only five words, but Gael was having trouble not being able to understand its meaning. But despite feeling like he understood the meaning, Elias was gone and Gael had accepted that. It didn’t make him feel less guilty, though, thinking about how one day he moved in and they– Gael had made mistakes, he knew that. He made mistakes and Elias was suddenly gone and the professor felt as though that might’ve been for the best, especially considering the things he himself had learned since then. About… He wondered how much of it really mattered as Gael’s tired, dark eyes found the tall man struggling to… open a door. Seemed about right. Wordlessly at first, Gael approached the familiar man where he didn’t stare up at him with a furrowed brow for very long before he glanced at the door Elias seemed to be having trouble with. “Yeah, that one in particular is really bad about it.” He motioned to it, not entirely untruthful but it wasn’t that difficult. “Need… any help?”
—
Everything in Elias screamed to run away, to do anything to escape the uncomfortable experience that was standing near Gael. He and Regan were the two people he was hoping to avoid, but something told him that that wouldn’t happen in this town. He shook his head at the shorter man’s offer to help, deciding to slam his shoulder into the door, which did absolutely nothing. And great, now his shoulder screamed in pain. He made a face as he let a hiss escape through his lips. “That… was supposed to work.” He muttered, finally giving up on the stuck door to look at Gael. He looked tired, but that much wasn’t all that new.
“Uh.” He said rather eloquently, crossing his arms over his chest as he schooled his anxiety to appear calm and collected. “Surprise? I… moved back.” He jabbed his thumb in the direction of the stuck door. “Apartment’s upstairs. Should have kept my assistant around to open it.” He nodded his head slowly, gaze drifting anywhere but at Gael. It helped that he was short and Elias could just look straight ahead.
The energy between the two was uncomfortable. There was no denying it. Elias turned to the door that had betrayed him, now forcing him to conversate with the man he once considered a very close friend. And, well… maybe not anymore. He had kind of burned many bridges on his way out of town. “I, well.” He scratched at the back of his head, his nervous tick reappearing. “I was offered a research position at the local hospital.” He finally explained, kicking at a pebble near his foot. “My assistant is from here, and I would have felt bad telling her no, so… here I am.” He raised his hands in the air as he shrugged, still avoiding looking Gael in the eyes.
All those months later and he was still as easy to read as before. Then again, since he was just as easy to read as before - and especially since Gael had since grown accustomed to the little nuances in a voice and especially hearing the heartbeat of whoever he was talking to, the professor figured that this was going to be an awkward reunion, to say the least. He wasn’t a stranger to people drifting away over the years; his old college friends, the ones he grew up with, work buddies and lab partners, it was simply impossible to keep up with every single one of them, not to mention some of them likely decided to either start entirely over with a new set of friends, but some of them might not’ve done that but just opted to cut out the negative influences in their life. Gael knew that he had been that way to a few people, as aspects of his past could never quite leave him weren’t healthy to anyone. He had worked to move past those and he certainly didn’t fault anyone for thinking that he could serve as a negative influence. He tended to treat old faces the same, though, for better or for worse; it was awkward, but Gael wasn’t mean, or at least he certainly tried not to be. He didn’t fault Elias for leaving for whatever reason, just like he didn’t fault him for coming back once he had an opportunity to do so. “Well, that’s good!” He said with a small smile. “I mean, good that you got a good position.” He paused, easily noticing that Elias was purposefully avoiding eye contact with him so he motioned to the door again. “You should try shouldering into it again, that really worked the first time.” He joked lightly, trying to gauge a reaction before ultimately deciding that Elias probably wanted nothing to do with him anymore and to just… exist in the same town. Gael could do that.
—
Elias wanted to melt into the cracks of the sidewalk and slide away. He wanted to be anywhere else, but there he was, running into the one person he had been hoping to avoid. Despite himself, he still found him letting out a bark of laughter as Gael insisted he fling himself into the door again. He turned to look at Gael, sizing him up playfully. “Well, if you’re so keen on making fun of me, why don’t you try?” He stepped to the side of the door, gesturing towards the door in a dramatic flourish. As much as he wanted to be uncomfortable, Gael just found a way of making him feel at ease. Still, there was a hint of discomfort that Elias was actively trying to combat.
“I started seeing things after the murder happened.” Elias began to explain, eyes dropping to his feet. “And when I started seeing these things, I thought faeries were real.” He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “And that’s when I decided to seek help from a professional.” He gave a flat smile. Lips pressed together in a thin line. “So now I’m… better. Better enough to be here without screaming, anyway.” Elias paused, face turning thoughtful. “Well, maybe a good scream now and again,” he decided.
“I was in such a bad state that I thought I was in danger and that people would come after me.” He rubbed a hand over his face, letting out a terse sigh. He remembered the state he was in, the fear that coursed through his body as he shakily wrote that note to Gael before running out the door that night. He felt bad about it but knew he would do it again if things went down the same course. “I’m sorry for running away instead of saying something.” He finally said, able to look up and meet Gael’s eyes. The smile that had graced Gael’s angled face when Elias had momentarily shifted back into that sense of familiarity between the two of them softened, then slightly faltered as the taller man started to explain what had happened and why he left so abruptly in further detail. And as he spoke, about how he started experiencing hallucinations and how fairies were real, Gael understood where the man was coming from. He’d been there, once, himself. Some days, he argued he was still there, on the edge, just waiting for someone to just… push him off of it entirely.
Ever since he moved, around the start of the summer, things had escalated far quicker than they should’ve, in multiple ways. He met so many people, became privy to so much knowledge about things that he had spent 40 years of his life believing were firmly fictional. He’d seen things that he couldn’t even dream about, had learned with Regan that his own hearing and smell, the things he himself thought were auditory and phantosmia hallucinations, weren’t just him making things up and hearing what he thought wasn’t there. Gael never struggled to find an identity for himself in the feeling of being special or unique like that.
“You don’t have to apologize.” Gael replied with a small shrug of one of his shoulders. “I’m… I know I didn’t help as much as I should’ve and I’m… sorry for how I acted before.” The confidence in his tone faltered and his body language reflected some of the guilt that he’d long since compartmentalized and processed appropriately though it, like, many things, tended to linger when their memory came up. “I don’t blame you for what you did; this town is… weird.” That was putting it lightly.
“And I don’t mean to, like, know that you’re back and insert myself into your life.” The professor continued, now reaching for the door and resting a calloused hand on the handle. “I get that things are… well, y’know, different now but I just wanted to drop by, say ‘hi’ and that…” Gael cleared his throat and he effortlessly pulled the door open for the taller man. He knew it had to be pulled the whole time. “If you ever need or want any help, I’m still your guy.”
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Location: Afterglow Inn @hollowstarters
As a medium, Kayla was drawn to places where the veil between realms seemed thin, and the Afterglow Inn held such an enchantment. Here, rest, relaxation, and rejuvenation were not just words but a promise whispered through the halls, carried by the echoes of countless visitors seeking solace.
Kayla stepped inside, and the atmosphere shifted, wrapping them in a warm embrace. The scent of freshly baked goods wafted from a nearby dining area.
Kayla made her way to a secluded corner of the inn, where a private section awaited her and whoever was seeking guidance today. The room exuded a sense of sacredness, adorned with antique furniture and delicate tapestries that seemed to hold stories of their own. Soft rays of sunlight streamed through the lace curtains, casting a gentle glow upon the room.
Taking a moment to center themselves, Kayla closed their eyes and allowed their sense to expand. She felt the subtle energy of the inn, a harmonious blend of past and present, a tapestry of emotions waiting to be unraveled.
When she opened their eyes, Kayla noticed a figure standing by the doorway, their presence filled with a mix of anticipation and curiosity.
"Welcome," Kayla greeted warmly, their voice carrying a soothing cadence. "I'm Kayla, a medium here to offer guidance and insight. Please, have a seat."
She gestured towards the plush armchairs arranged in a cozy nook, inviting them to find comfort. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the connection to be established, for the stories of the past and the whispers of the future to intertwine.
"I sense that you seek answers, a deeper understanding," Kayla continued, their eyes meeting the others with compassion. "Within this space, we can delve into the realms beyond, where the threads of destiny are revealed."
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semi-coherent list of threads both active and inactive:
(if i miss anything pls tell me lol)
amira - amira/joey1. amira/killian. billy - billy/simon1. bradley - bradley/persephone1. chess - chess/diego1 (✓). chess/henry1. chess/ivy1. chess/matty1. diego - diego/chess1 (✓). diego/henry1. eli - eli/matty1. harlow - harlow/ivy1 (✓). harlow/marley1. harlow/maverick1. harlow/raff1. henry - henry/chess1. henry/diego1. henry/ivy1. henry/poppy1. ivy - ivy/chess1. ivy/harlow1 (✓). ivy/henry1. ivy/louis1 (✓). ivy/louis2. ivy/maverick1. ivy/max1. ivy/wardo1. jessica - jessica/marley1. joey - joey/amira1. killian - killian/amira1. killian/matty1. louis - louis/ivy1 (✓). louis/ivy2. louis/max1. louis/wardo1 (✓). louis/wardo2. louis/wardo3. marley - marley/harlow1. marley/jessica1. matty - matty/chess1. matty/eli1. matty/killian1. maverick - maverick/harlow1. maverick/rafferty1. maverick/wardo1. max - max/ivy1. max/louis1. poppy - poppy/henry1. poppy/wardo1. rae - n/a. rafferty - rafferty/harlow1. rafferty/ivy1. rafferty/maverick1. scotty - n/a. simon - simon/billy1. wardo - wardo/ivy1. wardo/louis1 (✓). wardo/louis2. wardo/louis3. wardo/maverick1. wardo/louis3. wardo/poppy1.
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@ourwrittenstories cont'd from here
"Are you aware that you have no face?"
Well, some of us just say whatever's on our mind now, don't we? Not that Connor minds. In truth, it's probably one of the more amusing reactions they've gotten in a while. Yet, there's no lungs for the undead to laugh with. The empty eye sockets that are nothing but a void almost seem to be intensely boring into the woman as he takes a seat across from her.
"Sorry that I scared you."
"I promise I won't be here for too long. I just need a place to sit and gather my bearings. Being alone by myself isn't the best."
One good thing about Baldur's Gate--most people didn't give a damn about an undead walking through the streets. Waterdeep was a little more uptight about it.
But still, an undead by itself with no handleror someone normal to make them look a bit more … accepted socially wasn't a good look. Back in Waterdeep, he was often used to having someone along with him to back him up if someone questioned his existence or threatened to call the city guards.
"You won't have to look at me for much longer. But I do thank you."
#threads;#ourwrittenstories#figured this could be a good starter for us if you'd like! :)#no pressure though!
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Sorry About Your Window - starter for @xluciifer
Roughly a week and a half ago, Rick Sanchez's beach day vacation was ruined. All he wanted to do was GO out, relax, maybe fuck around with some of the locals in a totally different dimension, on a completely different planet.
Only to get the dimension number wrong and end up in the wrong place, at the wrong time--with that dimension being Hell, specifically. And to also get held up there against his will like a stupid hostage for like what, 10, 15 minutes? All to answer some stupid questions like an interview by the proclaimed 'King' of Hell himself.
Goddamn Lucifer--who, by THE way, was NOTHING like his own dimension's Devil, but STILL managed to similarly be a thorn in his side all the same.
He was pleasant enough. Didn't try to hurt him. And if the King of Hell wasn't so bad... SURELY the rest of the inhabitants wouldn't be, right? Perhaps there would be something worth plundering and pilfering for the interplanetary trading posts throughout the dimensions he hits up.
Big fucking mistake, he found out, as when he pretty much landed in the Pride Ring, specifically Pentagram City, all eyes were on him. They could smell him a mile away. Which wouldn't have been an issue if there weren't so many of them, and they weren't so fucking... rabid. The crowd of eight turned to maybe roughly twenty to twenty-five strong.
In the midst of portaling out and trying to bail on this mission, he'd been socked in the face by a demon four times his size, easily knocking him on the ground. He remembers ringing in his ears, but most of all, he remembers the CRUNCH of the portal device underneath the feet of the lawless mob all surrounding him.
A quick press of a button on his person creates a shockwave blasting everyone back to stun them works like a charm, giving him the time he needs to gather the scraps of his gun and book it.
Rick could hold his own decently well, and does, killing a handful of Sinners that just didn't know how the FUCK to keep their goddamn hands to themselves by the use of his gadgets and weapons while simultaneously being on the run, with no other option looking to be somewhere OUTSIDE of the city.
About maybe roughly thirty minutes of being chased by some of the flying types of demons (and a generous number of non-fliers on foot), through various methods of extended arms and legs, go-go gadget rocket ski shoes, and his own cybernetically enhanced limbs carrying him across this clearly godforsaken city, he catches glimpse of an unmistakable structure--A mansion. It's absolutely nothing like what he's seen throughout this Circle of Hell thus far.
Call it intuition, call it instincts, call it thinking on his feet, call it whatever you want, but the scientist makes the absolute executive decision that he's going to jump through one of those nice pretty stained glass windows on the first floor.
And he does.
When he gets within a few feet, he immediately covers the gap, taking to the air and covering himself protectively in such a way that only a FEW fragments of the glass stick in him when he makes contact with a loud, unmistakable
CRASH!
and finally, a
THUD!
of his body hitting the floor.
Rick can only groan as he winces, face twisting in pain. It fucking hurts.
He's going to for SURE feel that on his back tomorrow. He has yet to open his eyes. And a part of him doesn't want to, under the potential premise that he's not entirely free yet of the mob chasing him.
But he knows he has to. So he does.
Hopefully the person owning this place isn't here. But if he has to deal with them too, then so fucking be it.
#cut for length#long post;#threads;#xluciifer#first your carpets now your windows im just fucking up your entire house on accident man
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location: wine cellar
date & time: sunday 3 september, 2005, 10pm
@woodrowhub
carmen let her hands drift across the rows of dusty bottles and tried to remind herself that this was not actually stealing. richard had no use for his extensive collection of wine anymore, and if she selected one of the more common vintages then it would hardly make a dent in the inheritance. that was assuming that it was even hers to inherit, maybe there had been some last minute changes to his will. still, the guilt lingered. it was a feeling she was growing all too familiar with these days.
but it had been one of the longest days of her life. after the dreaded eulogies, there had been endless mingling, endless small talk and meaningless condolences. carmen's cheeks hurt from all the smiling she'd been forcing herself to do, and her head pounded from all the niceties she'd endured. it was all so well meaning, and it all made her feel sick with shame. as per mrs tristan's arrangements, it had been a dry wake, so carmen felt she'd earned a drink. she deserved a chance to numb her senses.
she had just selected herself a bottle from the shelf when she heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps. it was not unthinkable that someone would have had the same idea as her, and there was no point pretending she hadn't been caught red handed.
"we can share?" she said, turning and holding up the bottle in her right hand.
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