#( main verse ) ·.¸ verse 001 .

[pumpkinhcad]

@merwyn-muses || Starter.

February 14th. Every year, that day had the same strange feeling to it, and Pump could never put a finger as to why.

The town had been painted red for such a day. Every shop with a window or a showcase was bloodily-stained in the form of paper and glittery heart shapes stuck to the glass, and the culprit was always some flying, fat baby with a bow and arrow in his hands. Entrances and storefronts alike would be given a spark of shiny crimson with the help of (Christmas? He believed those were Christmas) lights. And the local flower shop, especially, would change from colorful and green to red and pink all around, turning its part of the street into a crime scene straight out a spooky movie.

But, get this, it was NOT Spooky Month! People were not going out in spooky costumes, neither were going to see spooky movies at the local theater. During that season they always had icky, sappy titles like "Together At Last" or "Just the Two of Us" instead, which always caused him to stick his tongue out and rolls his eyes with slight contempt.

As he was by himself that day, such a walk around town had left him with the same exact questions he had every year... (And he knew who could clear up his doubts!)

Which was exactly why his little journey had taken him to the doors of the Candy Club that afternoon. The building looked almost the same as always, pink and blue, and very welcoming... that is, except for the very unwelcomed presence of red hearts and those dumb, fat, flying babies all over the windows.

In his mind, if the candy shop had not been spared either, then nothing was sacred that day. As if things could not get any more dire already!

The silence was broken when the automatic doors let him into the store, his dressing shoes click-clacking aaaaaaall the way to the glass counter in the back. The place seemed to be missing a lot of candy and chocolates as well, but that concern was not at the top of his list (yet).

Just as he was hoping... ❝ Hiiiiiiiii, Kevin! ❞ ...he was at work that day!

[tidesbled]

                ☽                𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃                ☾ @strcngered

            𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐘     𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐒     𝐇𝐀𝐃     𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃     𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄     𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑'𝐒     𝐃𝐄𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓     -     𝐓𝐇𝐄     𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆     𝐎𝐅     𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐒'     𝐖𝐀𝐘     𝐎𝐅     𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄     𝐖𝐀𝐒     𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖     𝐁𝐔𝐓     𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐘.     It     was     with     a     heavy     heart     that     Terrador     took     Ignitus'     place     as     LEADER     of     the     guardians.     Yet,     it     had     to     be     done.     Most     of     the     earth     guardian's     time     was     spent     rebuilding     the     dragon     temple.     First     the     grotto,     then     the     training     area,     the     library,     and     lastly     the     guardians'     quarters.     〝    Come     Cynder,    〞      The     earth     dragon     beckoned     her     to     follow     him.     〝    I     have     something     to     SHOW     you.    〞     

[deadsmart]

He's sat at his desk , slouching a little more than he'd NORMALLY allow , because it's just the two of them . Edwin had been scribbling notes in his pocket book , hand PAUSING mid word as eyes lift to look at Charles across the room from under a knotted brow.

❝ I find myself UNSURE of what you're asking me ❞ Pen lifts off of paper , hovering mid-air , held by a relaxed wrist . ❝ We're the DEAD boy detective agency ( ... ) we work DEAD people cases . ❞ There's a smile in his eyes , if only because he knows FULL well what he's asking ( ... ) why he's asking . He's gotten attached to another one of his HUMANS .

❝ The last time you brought a LIVING being into our agency , I could not get the blood out of the rug for THREE YEARS , Charles . ❞

@deadbrawn //

[sommersong]

GLIMMERING DAYS AND SPARKLING NIGHTS – THAT IS THE WAY MOST THINK SIMEON LIVES. he cannot pretend as though some of it isn't true, of course. his world has been far too large for him since he was far too young, and despite appearances, he's never discovered how to truly balance it all. it's simply that he's always been good at pretending, particularly with the attention of a room upon him as it often is. rarely has he the luxury of existing along the fringes in any circumstance. he has been entirely visible all his life, his every move open to public scrutiny, the most private details of his world flashed on the front page of magazines everywhere. half the time he tells himself he should be grateful, that it is the price he pays for his dreams ; the other, he wallows in resentment.

it's why he appreciates the occasional place like this, dark and a little dirty and off the beaten path, a hole in the wall in uptown new orleans he visits whenever he's in the city. live music, relative anonymity, a crowd who does not care enough about his genre to even recognize him ... despite the thick hang of smoke in the air, it feels like a breath of fresh air, always. he can simply observe, and observe he does – particularly the musician two seats down from him who'd left the stage minutes before, after a performance both stunning and somewhat different than the other acts tonight. perhaps sim would be jealous of the man's talent if he weren't so intrigued

" put his next one on my tab, " he tells the bartender in a low voice before casting his gaze to his right, tilting his head just an inch like a curious bird. " you know, " he says a little louder, addressing the musician in his typical tone of good humor, ever imbued with his engaging charm, " usually they wait until after midnight to put on the particularly emotional acts. think there's at least five people outside calling their exes right now after your set. "

@disvelocitys as orpheus : 019.   the shady bar of a noisy , dark club . / starter call.

[florencc]

i'm doing memes and rlly finding flo's voice in different verses so perhaps give this a lil like and throw something at ya !

[lanternlit]

@innerwar said: Send “Oh no you DON’T” to grab my muse by the back of their collar to stop them from doing something stupid - timelord!bond @ ten lol

an old meme    /    ACCEPTING ↷

❝ It’s a good plan! ❞

The Doctor swats the hand holding him back away and readjusts his suit jacket with a huff, but doesn’t try to beeline towards the gunfight again. Good is definitely a lie. Plan might not be the correct word for it, either.    ❝ I make them take me in as their hostage to figure them out. Oldest plan in the book! ❞    Not sure what book. Gotta be some book. A little less confident, a little more defensive,    ❝ Well, if you have a better idea... ❞

[pumpkinhcad]

@lilmissrodeoclown || STARTER CALL.

He hummed for a moment, eyes completely fixated in the tall canopy towering above him. (Weird...) He swore he had seen that tree already. And that one. Aaaaaand that one.

Although Pump believed he knew the woods around his town like the palm of his gloved hand, he was failing to find his way around that evening. Every time he walked in the direction he thought the roadway was, he ended up in the same place as before. It seemed that, not only all those trees looked the same to him, but so did the paths (if there were any).

It was like he was walking in circles!! And that was not good, considering nighttime was in the horizon. What would his sister think if he were to be late?

His reflections were cut short by a subtle, yet hearable crack, his head turning in the direction of the sound. (He... was not alone.) And he had become well aware of it.

[ncrthernl1ghts]

TAG DUMP: DR. MARTINA BAKER - PINES

[wiedzmacienia]

@honorhearted from kasia

it's a stormy night with howling winds sweeping through dense wood. bitter. chilly in the way that bores into one's aching bones and elicits unrest within a soldier's camp. the horses are at unease, restless and whining as their tender's work to keep them calm lest they break free from their tethers. resources are limited enough despite calls for aid to congress, their camp does not need to lose the little they do possess. it is naught a night ripe for battle and scouts remain within their watchful stations. no troop movements have been detected within the radius of their camp, no coded missives confiscated to indicate an awareness of their forces at present. their encampment, or at least a portion of it, had taken an unscheduled detour three nights prior with washington giving little indication even to his trusted aides as to reason. he had made it clear the larger force remained upon it's path, perhaps as a distraction, while a smaller force he led detached. he's remained within his tent often hence, voices at times heard, muffled, hushed. a woman's voice, a man's, a strange feeling of unease within the air and yet no one is outwardly seen within council with the general despite what people are convinced they hear. a young soldier is seen standing guard upon the outskirts of camp, though there is little to be seen of what he is guarding as it appears a forest behind him, though oddly shaded considering the openness of the above canopies. his presence is on the generals orders, it is not to be questioned outwardly.

the moon is high within the sky when the scent of blood enters the air. there's no warning until it's too late. no war cry or clash of swords or gunfire. screams arise though. the guttural sounds of men facing a secret invasion of horrors. it begins on the far side of the small camp, confusion rampant. this was no battlefield with generals and officers commanding a charge. it was chaos. pure and simple. it was the work of vampires dressed in flashes of red. a small group sent to cause destruction, sent into the heart of the rebellion. sent toward washington directly despite the detoured path. a bold move. but not one wholly unexpected by the small group of cloaked people moving out of washington's tent with him, a council interrupted. a feminine hand is outstretched from a figure hidden by her cloak, it forces the man to stop his approach, as a voice with a strong accent emits toward the general. a confirmation that the man before them is trusted, a familiarity of the name tellmadge by the female an indication that the man before her has been discussed previously between the general and her. kasia nods unseen, and directs her attention to a different man next to her, commands him into action. flank left, another flank right. they are out of sight within the blink of an eye, an impossibility to a layman and yet reality all the same. the general tells the officer to join them as they move into the chaos.

washington was too important to the cause to be directly within this fight. the priority needs to be his protection. not engagement. even if she had taken the time and devoted resources in the form of two knights to aid in slowing down the vampire advancement. logically this directive grants them time. the more vampires taken out the less obstacles. but it also provides the additional benefit of preventing further innocent bloodshed of men who held no fathomable idea of what was transpiring around them, of what was slaughtering them for by the time the nature of the faces of death were upon them their lives were forfeit. everything happens in rapid succession from there and kasia will later admonish the strategic fumble that was the decision for washington and her group to meet separate from the larger encampment. there had been benefits at the time, yet it had left him far more exposed without a greater number of soldiers between him and their invaders.

there's running, there's bodies though the whole of the camp suddenly seems shrouded within a kind of shadowed veil, blurring the edges of human sight. they're in the center of their small camp and kasia reacts with little warning when she halts their group and drops her cloak to the ground revealing herself. her dress is a dark hunter green, long and typical yet with slits high up the sides revealing pants worn underneath. a freedom of mobility. vampires with distorted faces move toward them rapidly and find themselves thrust backward into tents and supplies by tendrils of dark force that seem to explode out of kasia as if they had been hit by cannons. two others on her side take stance around the general and tallmadge, as kasia moves with fluid motion, a dagger drawn from somewhere and thrown at a vampire directly into it's heart. it isn't wood, but the iron causes the smell of rotten flesh to leach into the air. she fights with skill and cuts down another vampire via decapitation with a broadsword. it quickly becomes a melee as the other two join the fight and prevent the humans from taking action. this was why they were there. it would do no one any benefit to have inexperienced humans entering the fray no matter how skilled they were at human combat. it happens quickly and yet somehow in slow-motion, until finally the threats are dispatched and they are left within the aftermath of surviving soldiers who have no sure idea what had transpired.

a storm. a strange dark fog. there had been a battle for sure but had anyone of them truly seen the monsters which had lurked? was it the germans with a sneak attack?

such questions of men are left outside the tent kasia, washington, and tallmadge now occupy. most men too shell-shocked and warn to do much more than rest now that the sun began to rise upon the horizon. a hazy and thick fog engulfs the encampment, hiding the true level of carnage until it could be dealt with. now is the time for questions, for shock to give way to inquiry. with washington proclaiming for the other man to trust her. to listen. to put aside what he believes he knows to understand the truth that was going to be presented to him. the general leaves them to it, perhaps figuring his word is enough to broker a beginning of dialogue. perhaps it is though kasia is ill at ease as she watches the man before her, keeping a distance. she's bore witness to men's worlds being turned upside down before. to the moment they discover the truth hidden behind the veil and she has little to go off of to know which path this man's mind with take him to find reason within the chaos. she only knows that the general trusts him enough to be privy to the order's involvement in the war effort. if only he had had the opportunity to have a less brutal introduction. she rather hopes, in the least, he does not try to kill her outright for that would be rather counterproductive for the both of them.

"my name is katarzyna and i am a knight of the order of soteria." it seemed as good a place to begin as any even if it seemed wholly unsuitable considering all the man had bore witness from her shortly before. yet she knew this would require some form of delicacy of which her brother would have been more suited to. she needed to allow this man's mind to catch up with what he's witnessed. she needs to allow him to lead with his questions and gauge how to proceed from there.

[sommersong]

@cordoliae as august sirin : it's not as bad as you thought, is it?

SIMEON ALWAYS THINKS BETTER WITH THE SKY ABOVE HIM, WITH THE COOL OF THE GRASS BENEATH HIM. he wouldn't call himself an outside sort of guy, usually, not much a fan of hiking without purpose and certainly not of camping, if he can avoid it. but visiting august is different and he makes every excuse to do so, when he can justify making his way over to this corner of the world. especially in summer. amongst the flowers, listening to the hum of the world and the sound of her voice or even just her breathing, he feels a sense of calm he finds nowhere else. the clover-like scent of cornflowers and the spice and earth of poppies, overlayed with the mild familiarity of chamomile, fills his senses as entirely as the feeling of her hand in his. with his eyes closed and the sun on his face, he nearly misses her question, despite having been deep in conversation moments before.

" mh? " his fingers tighten around hers, almost in apology for losing his train of thought, for briefly sounding almost sleepy in his response. " oh. right. " he pulls her hand to his mouth to kiss the back of it, sighing against it before letting their entwined hands fall to the grass once more. admittedly, it's a subject he's avoided by performing no small amount of conversational gymnastics. it would be strange, he supposed, considering how much more he does share with her than most – except that it's to do with his sister and with her and with them in a way he's pathologically avoided for long enough to make it even odder.

but despite his penchant for avoidance, despite the fact that he might continue to deflect if she were anyone else, even simeon knows he cannot continue to put it off over and over and over again. he pulls in a breath, then lets it out again, and allows himself a bit of a shrug, which doesn't have much of an effect lying on the ground as they are. finally, he ventures, " it's not ... I didn't ever think it was bad. just ... " with his eyes still closed, he lifts his free hand to drag it slowly down his face. " it's stupid. it's stupid! my – what I was worried about, I mean. because I knew it wasn't true, but I still ... " how does he begin to explain that even in his safest place in the world, he cannot help but slip into the defensive the moment he believes it might be taken away? he groans quietly, rolling over to bury his face in her shoulder as if hiding, as if the only way he can gather the courage to continue is to make sure he can't be observed while he does. " I ... thought if you and shoshana started, you know, hanging out ... that you wouldn't – want to spend as much time with, uh ... " he feels his brow furrow and his nose wrinkle against the fabric of her clothing as his bottom lip unwittingly pouts where she can't see him. " ... me. like I said! stupid, you know? "

[pumpkinhcad]

@strebcr || STARTER CALL.

He had received his weekly allowance!! Which, in Pump's mind, meant immediately going on a trip to the mall to spend it on whichever caught his eye first.

He was humming cheerfully to himself, white pupils unable to fixate on a single thing in any of those shelves as he moved from aisle to aisle. The best part of getting his allowance was always the element of surprise. Sometimes it was a toy, sometimes a bunch of snacks, sometimes... things that SHOULD get him banned from that mall, but never warranted it. He simply never knew what he was buying until he saw it!!

That was the idea. Of course, until he passed by the music section of the mall. Normally, he would skip it altogether, not being particularly interested in what it offered. This time, however, he saw a familiar silhouette browsing CDs and he had to stop, take a step back, and double check.

(Was that- ?!) The clothing was not the same, obviously, but he would recognize that hairstyle and eyeliner anywhere! ❝ Hey! ❞ Pump rushed into the aisle, seemingly very excited to have spotted someone he remembered from his last Halloween escapade. ❝ You're that vampire! ❞

[stclenrelic-moved]

@what-the-stark

"Yeah, here's the thing. I really, really hate myself for this, but we need to talk. Historically I'm not great at logic when you're sprawled out in my bed looking like an entire buffet of snacks."

"Talk?" She asks, tilting her head slightly to the side, emerald eyes focusing on his brown ones. "Are you sure that your endless gazing at digits and computer screens haven't fried your brain?"

It's not that they never talk - they do. But she's been gone for a while and she absolutely wore her most revealing dress for the occasion. It's not short - but it has a very high leg split and a very low cleavage. "Must be important. I'm listening."

[ncrthernl1ghts]

fuck it. TAG DUMP: STANFORD PINES

[pluckyhearten]

As she returned home after a long day at the bookstore, the redhead was immersed, yet alert, in the words of a psychology book under the feeble sunlight through the gloomy clouds. It's a foreign book for her daytime readings, as her selection is usually centered on laws and statutes, depriving her of her most personal favorites. But this time is different, or so she felt. There was a wonder buried inside her mind in a place she thought was forgotten until the terror, the monster arrived.

  ❝ You shouldn’t be out here by yourself. ❞

And between ambivalent reflections, a familiar voice crossed her path in this bleak and cold street— a voice with a distinct raucous tone and a tendency to cover secret intentions in honey. The redhead had met those golden rolls again.

❝ What makes you think I shouldn't? ❞ Doctors are not around. Only a few drops falling from the sky, ready to cover Gotham's streets with tears are making them company. And Becky, oh, she still remembered the apparent sweetness that @babydxhl's blue eyes emitted, concealing the evident pain she carried over her own bane. ❝ No place is benign in a city like Gotham, Miss Dahl. It becomes habitual. Unless you know something I don't. ❞ And if she was around, she had to play along.

[sommersong]

@sunstir : 🫦 for a new year's kiss.

SIMEON SOMMERFELD HASN’T MISSED AN OPPORTUNITY TO MAKE A SPECTACLE OF NEW YEAR’S EVE FOR MOST OF HIS ADULTHOOD. he'd love to say that he has some deep and abiding reason for such a preference, like a deep investment in new beginnings – but the truth is, he simply enjoys the art of dazzling and this holiday in particular seems to invite the use of his most ostentatious decor and wardrobe. the tradition of his warehouse new years eve party, always hosted with his dear friend kiki warren, would likely have died off by now if he didn’t so enjoy the spectacle of it. he is a bit of a spectacle himself now, in a tailored laced shirt dripping with faux pearls and jewels. any opportunity he has to make a splash, he’ll take gladly. that becomes ever more true when he has personal reason to – in this case, for instance, that he's invited a guest. a guest he has an interest in impressing. the glamour he's seemed to carry with him since his youth is what he always falls back upon in such instances. he's certain somebody as good as jeremiah could not – and should not – like him for who he is, so to astonish and bewitch with his looks, charisma, and style would have to do instead.

sim slides into the booth beside jere, placing a beverage before the other man as he sips on his own ( very non-alcoholic ) cosmopolitan. though his gaze remains soft, he observes him far closer than it seems, recording to memory any reaction, any trace of emotion he might see. set as they are above and slightly back from the rest of the party, they can maintain a little privacy, and while simeon certainly isn't concerned about being seen, it's nice to enjoy a moment to breathe and admire his companion. now that he's had a chance to touch up, that is. after an evening of dancing and playing host, he'd seized his opportunity, and now, the brilliant party lights catch against his fresh highlight, the glitter on his eyes, the shimmer of the silk and beaded lace. jeremiah looks just as radiant on his own, all brilliant eyes and curls that sim itches to run his fingers through.

" I'm really glad you came, you know. " he says as he sets his glass aside, sapphire gaze locked on the other with intent curiosity. " I know it's a bit over the top, but there's something to be said for tradition, you know? " by now, his arm has settled on the back of the booth, his torso turned entirely toward jere. as he speaks, his hand finds the other man's forearm, absently rubbing his thumb along the interior of his wrist. truth be told, his usual flirtations seem woefully inadequate, but he pushes that thought and what it might imply to the back of his mind.

it isn't the night to confront which of their hearts he might be headed toward breaking.

" and speaking of tradition ... " simeon's mouth twitches into a smile as he bites his lip, pink with gloss, as he listens beyond their booth briefly for the beginning of the countdown to midnight. he suspects his intention wouldn't come as any sort of surprise. he hasn't exactly been subtle with his interest and jere has displayed a sort of casual persistence which sim has found in equal measure to be both exhilarating and dangerous. " it'd be a shame to waste this one, don't you think? " he walks his fingers up jere's chest before gently latching them onto the fabric of his shirt, his grin widening, turning a bit playful, sly, seductive. 9 - 8 - 7. " I'm here, you're here ... " as if they both don't know that this is part of why sim had invited him in the first place. 6 - 5 - 4. " you look beautiful. have I told you that you look beautiful tonight? " he lifts his hand to brush his thumb along that jaw on the way to cup his hand around the back of jere's neck. 3 - 2 - 1. " happy new year. "

with that, he leans up, pressing his mouth warmly to the other man's, lifting his other arm around his shoulders as he deepens it with a sigh, lingering far longer than such a kiss perhaps should – and not regretting a single moment.

[okeancs]

                ♆                 𝐓𝐇𝐄     𝐁𝐈𝐆     𝐁𝐀𝐃     𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅                 ♆ @damagecompilation

           𝐓𝐎     𝐒𝐀𝐘     𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐘     𝐖𝐀𝐒     𝐀     𝐁𝐀𝐃     𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄     𝐖𝐀𝐒     𝐀𝐍     𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓     -     𝐓𝐇𝐄     𝐒𝐎𝐍     𝐎𝐅     𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐍     𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐃     𝐈𝐍     𝐓𝐇𝐄     𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐎𝐒.     He     loved     pushing     someone's     buttons     on     occasion.     The     smirk     of     a     troublemaker     was     plastered     across     his     lips     as     he     crouched     down,     ducking     his     head     under     the     cut     hole     in     the     chain     fence.     〝    C'mon     THUNDER     BOY,    〞      He     gestured     for     the     other     to     follow     and     when     Jason     hesitated,     he     glanced     over     his     shoulder     at     the     Roman.     〝    Oh,     is     the     BIG     BAD     WOLF     afraid     of     breaking     the     rules?    〞