#♡ -> 𝗴𝗼𝗶𝗻' 𝗼𝗳𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗹𝘀 𝗶'𝗺 𝗶𝗻 𝗰𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗶𝘀 . 《 queue 》

[chaos--mode]

@dgrayd continued from here.

she shouldn't be excited about his answer. she shouldn't be hopeful, or happy, or anything. he won't stay. she knows that he won't stay. not that she'd want him to, but...

well. maybe.

ren just nods. it would be fine. maybe she'll figure out how to actually forage for stuff, and maybe her and alex won't starve to death. maybe she'll learn how to make some stuff that could be useful, and maybe she will actually be able to take care of them. maybe she won't be so fucking useless. maybe.

she's going to say something, to ask him if he wants to come back to where she's staying, but he speaks first. and ren tenses. she wants to lie. she wants to bluff and claim she's from a whole settlement, hundreds strong. she wants him to think she has people, that she isn't alone, that she isn't vulnerable.

but she is. she is all of those things. and what's the use in lying? if he's staying, he'll find out the truth fast enough.

❝ no, it's — ❞ and his reasoning makes sense. maybe it's better that she doesn't lie.

she sighs. her shoulders fall and her eyes cast off to the side. dejection. her expression is moody and defeated. ❝ it's just me and my little sister. ❞

little, as if she's a kid. little, as if alex isn't perfectly capable of taking care of herself. little, as if she didn't do just that while ren scrambled to find her for a whole year.

she looks back up at him, nose scrunched up in a harsh, closed off expression. she tries, really rather hard, to breathe and just talk like a normal person for two goddamn seconds. ❝ i'm ren, by the way. ❞

[chaos--mode]

his laugh makes her laugh too, a nasally little two-toned rasp that barely crests over the bass of the music. and, like, at this point she's fully in the conversation. she's not even trying to look busy anymore, bar rag tossed over her shoulder with her hip leaning on the edge of the prep counter on her side of the bar.

she scoffs at the comparison ; as if ren could ever shut up for more than five minutes. ❝ yeah, could be. sort of counterintuitive to, like, my whole shtick, though. ❞ and it is, right? cause ren's always been the one that wanted to make a place for people to feel safe spilling their guts all over her bar, to her or to someone else.

and then, well. then rian actually talks. and the thing is, right, that ren has had conversations about supernatural shit with people over the years. people that are just talking, just being hypothetical or trying to be like, profound or whatever. she'll play along, smile and say that she believes, talk ghosts or ghouls or goblins, shit that goes bump in the night, even while her skin is crawling and she's trying not to have a panic attack about it.

but the way that he says it. it's got her eyes snapping over to his, something heavy and somber settling over her shoulders. i have, he says, and the worst part?

she believes him.

she tries to act normal. she can't look him in the eye, though. her forehead scrunches up in concentration and she pulls the rag down from her shoulder to wipe at a nonexistent spill on the bar top.

❝ depends on what you mean by 'met death', i guess. ❞ and she means it, too. she thinks about all the bullshit that happened in salem; the scars on her arms and across her collarbones; that stupid mall fire; weeks spent hunched over a hospital bed, never quite catching her breath. she's never seen anything she'd call 'the reaper', but she feels like she's been fucking close enough. ❝ that feels like a story, though. tell me ; how'd you come to be acquainted with death themselves? ❞

THAT MAKES HIM CHUCKLE, THE SOUND peeling from the back of his chest like a roaring motorcycle out the front door. perhaps he is so entwined with death and other's stories already, that the idea of him behind the counter weighs on him much like the idea of leaving this bar.

he's not quite sure how she does it, but there's a KINDRED behavior they both carry. perhaps it's most clear in the eyes.

❝ don' have t'be. y'coul' be one of those silen' broody types. th'kind tha' judges you by your drink an' don' give a fuck unless you get paid. ❞ but rian falls silent for a moment, considering his options.

the cowboy supposed there was no harm in talking, now. she wouldn't BELIEVE him anyways.

❝ y'ever me' death? ❞ it's a simple question, but the weight of it is like an anchor splitting the wood that separates them, dropping at their feet.

❝ i have. ❞

[chaos--mode]

@freakarus continued from here.

lizzy has spent a lot of time in the woods behind forest hills. like, a lot. eddie has too. they would have thought that, between the two of them, they had the whole fucking place mapped out in their collective minds, some sort of...

mind map.

whatever the fuck.

but now they're just. fucking lost. and eddie's being a dick about it. but like, what's new there, right? and lizzy is tired and maybe a little bit scared, cause it's the depth of night and the woods are creepy as shit, okay, leave them the fuck alone.

❝i told you we should go left,❞ lizzy parrots, whiny and sarcastic tone seeping into the words. she smacks his hand away and turns with him just so that she can shove at the back of his head.

he gets a little ways away as she glares at him, trying to bore a hole right through his stupid head. he whistles after a moment and she rolls her eyes. leans down to grab a pinecone and lob it in his direction, bouncing off his shoulder and skittering off into the dark brush around him.

but she does jog a little to catch up anyway. she doesn't wanna be left alone, okay?!? it's fucking dark and scary in the woods at night. leaves and twigs crunch and crack underfoot, echoing in the darkness surrounding. she grabs at eddie's jacket when she catches up, handful of leather yanked to slow his gait.

❝will you fucking slow down, dickhead.❞ she flicks the side of his head to punctuate the sharp bite of her words. wind whistles through the branches above, eerie and haunting melody of the night. something rustles through the underbrush ahead of them.

she's about to start needling him more, the need to expel some of the fearful energy bubbling up and over in her chest, when light flickers just at the edge of the trees up ahead. she smacks at eddie's chest instead, hand flapping wildly as the excitement of finally fucking getting home surges up her throat.

❝shit, shit, shit!!❞ and lizzy's never been great at restraining themselves, so it keeps spilling over until they're excitedly shaking eddie by the shoulders. ❝holy shit, we made it back!❞

and then they're shoving off him and skipping ahead. they don't make it far, though, because just as they turn to skip forward their ankle catches on a stupid fucking root and they land on their ass with a breathless fuck!—

and it's like that, with eddie just a few steps in front of them, mud and dirt and something warm and wet and squishy covering their legs and halfway up their forearms, that they hear the rustling behind them. louder than before, and definitely not just from the underbrush. lizzy turns to look over their shoulder, and sees it—

a figure looms a dozen or so feet away, silhouetted in the light from the trailer park, stumbling through the brush towards them. something drip, drip, drips from their hands, lax at their sides, thick globs splattering on the muddy ground at the figure's feet. there's a low, growly rumble of a moan echoing from them as they shamble forward.

what the actual fuck??

[chaos--mode]

@9odsent embraced the chaos : i'm adjusted. i eat four food groups and look both ways when crossing the street. (ada (stormchaser) to stormchaser!ren)

it's absolutely, totally, 100% hypocritical of ren to laugh. like, she's one to talk, right?? adjusted isn't exactly an adjective anyone would ever attribute to her, herself included.

she laughs anyway.

❝ i dunno if a supreme pizza can really be considered four food groups, ❞ she quips, licking the grease off her fingers. hypocrite, her mind oh-so-helpfully singsongs at her. ❝ kudos to you for proper pedestrian safety though. that's important. ❞ she says it straight, almost like she means it.

almost.

LILO AND STITCH (2002) PROMPTS. ( always accepting! )

[chaos--mode]

@starlyht continued from here.

ren is not impressed. she hadn't meant to start, like, a thing. then again, did she forget who she was talking to? of course it was gonna start a thing.

her lighthearted expression is almost immediately dashed, replaced with a deadpan stare. her brow twitches in irritation. gods, but she does not like talking to sol. why does she even bother?

it takes an excessively deep breath for her to not simply stand up and walk away while he prattles on. she knew she should've sat closer to the fire. she watches the others enjoy a decidedly less aggravating conversation in a semi-circle around the flames, bathed in a pretty orange glow. it doesn't matter what they're talking about, it's undoubtedly better than whatever ren has managed to talk herself into over here.

but, despite her annoyance, ren is not one to back down from a challenge. if anything the irritation only makes her want to argue harder, though she'd never admit it aloud.

❝ oh, is that so? ❞ a little smirk pulls at the corner of her lips, expression morphing into something smarmy, nearly cheshire as she tilts her head to one side and leans back on her hands. ❝ don't you live for lolth? that's your whole thing, is it not? you live to be her little plaything. i'd rather live for someone who actually gives a shit what happens to me. ❞

she swears, between him, gale, shadowheart, lae'zel, they're just a walking group of red flags yelling ' don't put your fucking trust in the gods ' .

[chaos--mode]

it's not as if ren's never witnessed weird shit before. like, she's seen plenty, thank you so very much. it's just that, like... well it's been a while. and, y'know, maybe she'd sort of convinced herself that it had all been some sort of fever dream or, well, something.

it's just easier not to think about things-that-go-bump-in-the-night, okay??

so. ren maybe starts to freak out. just, like, a little. internally. which is fine cause she can just bottle that right on up along with everything else. no biggie. she swallows thickly as the demon quite literally snaps back into his regular human-ish form.

ren's never dealt with literal demons before. if this one is any indication, though, christ do they ever talk a lot.

the pretty tinkle of his laugh is a bit... unexpected. maybe she figured it'd be all weird and unsettling, like multi-layered chimes that are too deep and too inhuman to be anything but disconcerting. and then there's the puff of smoke, shining and sweet-smelling. no, not sweet, clean. but then not clean either, really, but warm. all of those and none of them at the same time.

what the fuck.

here's the thing, he starts, and she only just barely represses the instinct to roll her eyes. instead she crosses her arms, grasping at her biceps in comfort, and takes a deep breath as she listens.

she doesn't believe him, charming as his words might be. charming as he might be. she watches the length of his fingers, the glint of something she can't quite puzzle out in his eyes, the way he moves and speaks and just... all of it.

❝ you... want to talk to me. just, talk. ❞ maybe that's why she doesn't believe him. why would a demon want to just talk to her? it's like a contradiction, something she can't quite reconcile with the concept of truth in her mind.

but, like, who the fuck cares, right?

❝ okay, ❞ she says, uncrossing her arms and doing her best to stretch away the tension gathering in her shoulders. she steps closer (get away, get away, get away) and tilts her head to one side, questioning. ❝ what do you wanna talk about? you seem like the type to have something specific in mind. so what is it, hmm? The Fates? gothic literature? maybe the many-worlds theory? ❞

maybe she's playing with fire now. just a bit. maybe she's curious what will happen if she sticks her hand right in the flame.

     and just like that, the demon deflates— animatedly, sagging like a car tyre that is steadily going flat. beautiful features droop as his skin stretches loose, no longer recognisable as humanesque, and his limbs unravel like toilet paper. as a sad-looking blob, paimon speaks once more.

     ❛ and just when i thought you had it... ❜ like a tape measure, his limbs snap back to their proper length as he retracts once more, a twanging sound accompanying the bizarre movement.  ❛ no matter! i've been friends with all kinds of people. why, i have a comrade who belongs to the twelfth dimension! he's rather dim but he's an absolutely incredible fighter— AND cook! you see? name another demon who'll go for dinner with a twelfie. ❜

     paimon pauses to laugh; a musical sound as he vanishes in a puff of golden smoke. it leaves a pleasant aroma behind; like a scented candle of no particular description. clean laundry, fruit, old books. everything nice and yet nothing at all.

     ❛ see, here's the thing, ren. ❜ he's reappeared by one of her bookshelves, running one taloned digit along some of the spines and knick-knacks curiously.  ❛ is it truly 'a waste of time', as you say, if i'm getting something out of it too? talking to people entertains me! the immortality shtick becomes tiresome after a while unless you make friends. what do you think i'd get out of you otherwise? your soul? ❜ his voice smooths into another small chuckle, needle teeth hidden behind a charming smile  ❛ that only comes if you enter a contract with me, dear! which— well, it seems you have made your position on that quite clear... so you're safe! i have no reason to harm you. it doesn't benefit me at all. ❜

[chaos--mode]

@9odsent continued from here.

there's something about needling connor that brings ren no end of joy. maybe it's cause he's a good sport about it. maybe she just likes listening to him talk. who's to say, really?

she smiles at him from across the bar, crooked and sharp. her chin's propped in the palm of one hand and her fingers drum along the curve of her cheek. she's supposed to be doing insurance paperwork in the office right now. or, like, something equally boring.

she'd much rather be right here bugging connor, though.

❝ oh, intimidating and capable are two very different things, con. ❞ she reaches out to flick at his forehead, moving slow enough there's no doubt he'll have enough time to dodge her touch. y'know, if he wants. ❝ that guy might be big, but he's not a fighter. my bet's on you, for sure. ❞

[chaos--mode]

@starlyht continued from here.

that's not what she — she didn't mean to, like — ugh, gods damn it all.

she hadn't meant to extort the gnome. she just, well. they did save him. he didn't have to shower them in gold and jewels, but did he have to be such a prick? she's sort of beginning to understand why the little bastard was being tormented in the first place. she's gonna be snapping ' get on with it ' at everyone for the next few days, she can just feel it.

she's pouting like a petulant schoolchild, arms crossed over her chest, feeling thoroughly chastised despite the fact that, like, she didn't mean it like that. ❝ he could've been a little nicer is all i'm sayin'... ❞ she kicks at a loose rock on the ground. stupid paladin and his stupid holy righteousness.

but then much as ren isn't used to the whole brand of devotion and virtuous morals that is the other human, he's not... insufferable. she actually sort of likes him. he's nice enough, she figures. it's the only reason she doesn't scowl and shrug his hand off when he touches her.

❝ fine, fine. ❞ she turns a sharp, wicked grin on kyran. ❝ s'your turn to deal with the fire. ❞ ( it's really not )

[chaos--mode]

ONCE YOU’RE STRIPPED CLEAN, WHAT IS AT YOUR CORE ?

acerbic wit

you're a mentor — an old scarred wolf, an injured soldier, a disgraced paladin. your teachings read as shamelessly pretentious, speaking in rhymes and biting down hard into anyone stupid enough to make the wrong move. this isn't your first life, nor your second, nor your sixth — you'll make the most of your time shackled to this world, no matter how many loops it takes to get it right. with every defeat, you reincarnate; a little smarter, a little quicker, crueler and nastier.

will you choose to be brutal, equalizing, that final strike in the face of your enemies? will you go soft, become tender and domesticated? the choice is yours.

it's not like i can stop you.

[chaos--mode]

lizzy's grin is sharp and crooked, their eyes narrowed all conspiratorially. part of them knows that they're heading in to bitchy gossip territory. but, hey ; that's lizzy's favourite kind.

she snorts at mike's little defense of lucas. she doesn't disagree. like, lucas is a good kid, and she'd never lump him in with the likes of jason and his lackeys. not even jokingly. besides, there are other ways she can needle mike.

❝ puttin' a lot on lucas' shoulders there, kid, ❞ they snide, brow quirking up in a saccharine, mildly condescending expression. ❝ not sure sinclair's up to such a monumental task. ❞

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ♥︎ . *. ⋆ ❝ RIGHT, IT'S LIKE THE ONLY THING they have space for in their brains other than sports is food. ❞ which again, isn't entirely bad; people need food to survive. and mike, despite his sometimes monstrous appetite ( thanks puberty ) still couldn't hold a CANDLE to any of the footballers at a pizza party.

❝ lucas is still a nerd, though. it's not impossible to be both at the same time. but total jocks? they scare me. all they think with are their muscles. ❞ he wasn't just saying this because he loved his friend; generally speaking, the guy was simply very INTELLIGENT and from time to time allowed his more 'nerdy' experiences from childhood to dictate his decision-making. ❝ they need someone like him to keep them straightened out. ❞

[chaos--mode]

@starbeambully embraced the chaos : “Am I crying? Yes. Am I going to acknowledge it further? No. And I expect you to do the same, thank you.” (lizzy)

lizzy isn't gonna push it. 'cause, like, if they're being honest? they wouldn't know what the hell to do about the mess of tears on dolph's face anyway ; they're fucking awful at that kinda shit.

so she just nods and hums in response. she pulls her messenger bag forward so she can dig through and pull out her current sketchbook. it's an absolute mess, loose papers of varying shapes and sizes shoved in and sticking out from between the pages. the pages of the sketchbook itself are covered in ink, graphite, paint, pastels, coffee stains, and stains of dark red ( don't worry about those ones, okay, thanks ) .

lizzy flips the book open to a new page and produces a neon-green pen seemingly out of nowhere. she looks to dolph.

❝ what's your favourite show. or movie. or, like, book. comic book? ❞

their pen tap-tap-taps on the blank page as they wait for his answer.

random, unhinged dialogue … sentence starters. ( always accepting! )

[chaos--mode]

@stacysghost continued from here.

valeria almost snorts soda out of their nose at gwen's words. hand comes up to cover their mouth with the back of their hand, wiping sticky mess away with their sleeve.

❝ honestly? solid advice. you think of that all on your own? ❞

[chaos--mode]

@freakarus embraced the chaos : "you are so finished when i get in there." (lizzy)

lizzy's already seated with her back against the door when eddie slams into it. the frame shakes and the woods digs into the shoulders with the force of him banging on it from the other side.

but lizzy's too busy cackling like an idiot, paging through the middle of eddie's prized ( and oh-so-secret ) sketchbook. they're practically wheezing around their laughter, having hightailed it through the woods behind the trailer from eddie's spot where they'd snatched it right off the table when he'd turned his back.

❝ empty threats, eds! empty threats!! ❞

LILO AND STITCH (2002) PROMPTS. ( always accepting! )

[chaos--mode]

relief, really, is the first thing that ren feels when jude assumes that she totally loses it because of the sandwich. there's that like, littlest follow-up of embarrassment just cause, well, it's kind of embarrassing, isn't it? still. she'll totally take that ( incorrect ) assumption over the mortifying truth of her absolutely pathetic one-sided pining.

but she's nothing if not good at playing the part, so;

she pouts when he chastises her, played up and dramatic, perfect part of the drama queen. ❝ i got a little bit of it. i didn't like it. ❞ said in a tone that reminds even herself of an impetuous, spoiled child. perfect.

yeah, you totally can, is ren's first thought on the shirt. she swallows around the lump in her throat, definitely not ignoring the flash of totally, absolutely, 100% appropriate images that flash through her mind. it's all tame shit, okay, sue her! jude would look good in a slightly-unbuttoned button-up.

and then, well. she does clean up well. especially when she's actively trying to show off.

❝ i mean, it's easy for me to get all fancy, yeah. ❞ ren is nothing if not consistent in her manufactured conceit. ❝ but like, i'm pretty sure you could clean up well too. you know, if you tried real hard. ❞

Jude watched her with anticipation - didn't even know if he was blinking or not while he waited for her to take a bite of the sandwich. If she absolutely hated it, fine, it wasn't the sandwich's fault, he knew that much. She just had a disdain for tomatoes on sandwiches which was such a wild accusation because then what about burgers? Did she eat them plain? Did she at least put ketchup and mustard on them to add flavor? His head was spinning for no reason just thinking about that.

The second her mouth even met the sandwich - and not even a full bite either, like the world's most pathetic nibble - she exploded into a coughing fit. Immediately he rolled his eyes and reached out to snatch the sandwich back. ❝ Oh my God, Ren, you're an actual drama queen. It's not even that bad. Did you even bite the tomato? ❞ He examined the sandwich for himself, her teeth barely making a dent in the bread at all. Everyone knows that the first bite is always bready, too!

❝ I don't know, ❞ he said with a shrug, imagining how both of them would really change their attire to go out somewhere on a date, be it bowling or some fancy restaurant. Well, as fancy as this town had to offer, and as much as they could afford, too. ❝ I can wear the hell out of a button-up shirt I guess. ❞ Which wasn't that different than what he normally wore when he wasn't in scrubs.

❝ It's probably easier for girls to get all fancy, huh? I can see you in a dress and heels. ❞ How short the dress was in his imagination was not going to be said out loud, just left to that - his imagination.

[chaos--mode]

@starbeambully embraced the chaos : leave me alone to die. (lizzy)

yeah, right, lizzy thinks. like hell.

it's with a loud and exaggerated 'oof' that lizzy plops down next to dolph, no sense of personal space whatsoever. ( well, okay, that isn't entirely true— they're definitely close enough to brush their shoulder against his, but they can just as easily swing away and lean off to the side. )

❝ nah, don't think i will. ❞ she leans back on her forearms and kicks her feet out, crossed at the ankle as she all but lounges across the sidewalk.

❝ you want some gum? just got a new pack. ❞

LILO AND STITCH (2002) PROMPTS. ( always accepting! )

[chaos--mode]

𝟗 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝟓𝟎𝟎 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬.

tagged by: @freakarus hiii i adore youuu ♡ tagging: @aintashes @dumbthink @hiisheart @hcrrorbabes @afterdeaths and anyone else that wants to do this!! ♡