#( * INTERACTIONS. )

[displacedbias]

penny from @ask-all-the-kindergarteners hands you a tulip!

[Felix]: Teddy seems to be... erm, preoccupied at the moment.

[Felix]: --But I promise I'll show him the tulip once he gets back! Thank you again. How sweet of you.

[pressure-thechasm]

"Hi, Jett!! How ya doooiinn'? :)" -Void Ruby

" ..Oh. Void. Uh " " Now isn't the best time "

@voidruby

[giselle-archive]

@limalatina: Dios los cría y ellos se juntan.

You've said this before so I know this means birds of a feather flock together. And you're not wrong.

[shiiiksa]

“Getting divorced at fifty-two was not on my bingo card, but neither was getting cheated on with a younger male receptionist and yet, here we are.” Cate has to laugh at her own suffering to avoid having a breakdown. And breakdowns were never good on your skin. She sips on her glass of wine, the most expensive bottle she could find at the winery in order to spend as much of Ben Cohen’s money before their divorced was finalized. “But that’s enough about my miseries. How has your year been, my dear? I feel like I’ve been babbling for ages about myself.” / @aspencreekextra

[harpersoath]

neyvin had never had a strong sense of self-preservation, of pragmatism, and of the end justifying the means. they were not foreign to the concept, of course - many people were prone to such thoughts and in truth, any sensible person who sought to survival ought to look to have a strong sense of all of this. but this fundamental sentient truth was thrown into disarray when it came to them. after all, neyvin had never seen survival as the end goal, not their own anyway.

that was why someone like rakatak fascinated him. first among all. it was a declaration, a staunch reminder of her presumed place: first among all. she was a paladin of bane. by all accounts, someone who neyvin should be at all odds with. yet, he never found much productivity came from being at odds with most (shadowheart was an exception -- and a very complicated one at that). and there was something admirable in the fact that rakatak was willing to put that survival above things like what he would expect from someone of devotion to bane.

"how do you feel about what seemingly waits at moonrise?" she asks the hobgoblin. neyvin was hardly someone who could judge anyone for being distracted within the shadow cursed lands, and when looking to moonrise towers specifically. but to see someone like rakatak who was someone so intently focused on the survival and making it through as fast as possible to remove these tadpoles distracted at all...it was worrisome.

"hope you can forgive any rudeness in asking this but..." a small hesitation, but neyvin takes a breath and looks over at rakatak. "you've been very... distracted, in a way that is not what i have come to expect from a warrior of your skill." there isn't judgement, in the words, and she truly means no ill will by them. the words are born out of concern -- an emotion that is reflected in her gaze.

plotted starter with @warwaited (rakatak)

[anderseva]

PRIVATE:

Continued from here @morgan-weston

I'm sorry, is there a problem?

[zoemanning]

closed starter: @ericaxmanning

location: Erica's place in Fishers Cove

After weeks of Erica only sending her a few texts, nothing of any real substance or with an answer as to when she'd be coming home, it was safe to say that Zoe had had enough. Maybe it was the sea of emotions she'd found herself floating in every single day since her wife had just walked out on her, but the need to do something drastic to salvage what was left of her marriage had completely taken over. She'd been amazed at how quickly she'd been able to pack a few suitcases, take an extended leave from her job in Montana and land herself a temporary journalist position in town, and then knock out the roadtrip to Aurora Bay — but here she was.

While she should have given Erica a heads up first, she'd instead used her journalism skills to find out just where her wife was staying and drove straight there first. The sight of that stupid truck in the driveway only refueled her frustration, and further confirmed that popping up on her was the much better angle. Walking right up to the door, she decided against knocking and instead pulled out her tools, settling for just picking the lock and letting herself in so Erica couldn't try to slip out once she realized she had company. Zoe had done it so many times now that within seconds, she heard the familiar sound of the lock unlatching, and then she exhaled a deep breath as she walked inside. "Erica?" She called out, glancing around to see if she could spot the blonde right away. "Erica Manning, you can't run away from me forever, you know?" Maybe her tone was a little harsher now, but Zoe didn't care.

[discotective]

' what is this, like a hobby for you now? ' / obsessiveness seemed instinctive at this point; one little addiction traded for another, something to busy the hands. all addicts need a hobby, you've just got to replace one itch with another. you should take up knitting. that would be stupid, he thinks as he dismisses the thought, already squatting on the ground picking up another plastic bottle. into the plastic bag it goes alongside its brothers and sisters waiting to be turned into recycling for a few dollars spare change on the way home this evening.

resting on the backs of his legs, crouching in perfect accordance with the tone of the situation, harry casts a glance backwards over his shoulder at @excalibiur. his moustache bristling in the wind is a nice touch. he's judging you. prove to him this is totally normal. it is normal, it's just recycling. ❝ maybe . . . ❞ he admits, finally standing up, his prize in tow.

[sigyns-drafts]

Wassup! How ya doin? So, I've been looking through your stuff, and honestly, DAMN you write good! If it's not too much, I'd like to request for ROR Buddha, Ares, Hermes, and Jack interacting with or having teatime with Marie Antoinette reader?

After reading her up as to what she was actually like, I'd like to think that after her death, she started leading a more modest lifestyle cause I like the idea of her becoming a cottage core girlie, but still maintaining some level of opulence from her life, like jewelry, or love of sweets.

That'd be all! Wish you the best!

A/N: Hello, I'm doing just fine today and thank you so much for asking and for the compliment!! I'm very passionate about my works and writings. 👀

Glady I will, it's never too much. I hope you're also doing fine and if not, please enjoy what I've got for you. Also did you draw that? It's stunning!!

I absolutely adore this idea you have for Marie Antoinette, 100℅ cottagecore girl!~ <3

Teatime with Marie Antoinette ☕🤍

➩ Marie Antoinette, adorned in a gown of shimmering silk and gold jewelry, sat gracefully at a marble table set with delicate porcelain teacups and dainty pastries. Across from her, sat an empty chair for whoever would want to join her.

And much to the woman's surprise, who was used to being alone in this afterlife because of her past, would be having some company after all, much to her delight!

➩ Reader type: Marie Antoinette!reader with Buddha, Ares, Hermes and Jack the ripper.

⚠: Mentions of past death, murders, past regrets & flashbacks, angst, jacks mommy issues!

Buddha:

The scent of blossoms hung heavy in the air and the gentle rustle of leaves provided a soothing backdrop to the graceful Marie Antoinette, who found herself seated at a elegantly set tea table.

Opposite her sat Buddha, the enlightened one, who had joined her for tea, albeit for an unconventional reason.

Marie Antoinette, her curiosity piqued by the unexpected guest, regarded Buddha with a mixture of amusement and intrigue.

"Welcome, honored Buddha," she greeted, her voice tinged with curiosity.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

Buddha, his serene expression unchanged, offered a gentle smile.

"I have come for the pastries," he replied simply, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"But I am also curious to hear your story, Madame Antoinette."

Marie Antoinette's laughter bubbled forth like a sparkling stream, her mirth contagious in the tranquil garden.

"Well, Buddha," she exclaimed, her eyes dancing with amusement, "you are in luck, for I have plenty of pastries to share, and a story to tell that is as rich as the treats before us."

As they indulged in the delectable pastries, their conversation flowed effortlessly, traversing the realms of history, philosophy, and the intricacies of human nature.

Despite their stark differences in background and beliefs, Marie Antoinette and Buddha found a surprising kinship in their shared appreciation for life's simple pleasures.

Buddha listened intently as Marie Antoinette regaled him with tales of her life as the Queen of France, her voice animated with passion and warmth.

From her extravagant balls and lavish feasts to the tumultuous political landscape that defined her reign, she painted a vivid portrait of a woman caught in the whirlwind of history.

"And what of you, Buddha?" Marie Antoinette inquired, her curiosity piqued.

"What led you to seek enlightenment and transcendence?"

Buddha's expression softened, his gaze turning inward as he reflected on his journey towards enlightenment.

"I sought to understand the nature of suffering and the path to liberation," he explained, his voice serene yet filled with compassion.

"In the pursuit of truth, I found a deeper understanding of the human condition and the interconnectedness of all beings."

Marie Antoinette nodded thoughtfully, her admiration for Buddha's wisdom evident in her eyes.

"A noble quest indeed," she remarked, her voice tinged with respect. "And yet, here we are, bound together by a shared love for pastries and the joy of good company."

Buddha had to let out a small chuckle, "Hah, indeed we are Madame, indeed we are."

Ares:

Marie Antoinette found herself seated at a gracefully adorned tea table, her delicate porcelain cup filled with fragrant brew.

Across from her sat Ares, the formidable god of war, his imposing presence softened by the ambiance of their setting.

Marie greeted Ares with a warm smile, her eyes sparkling with charm. "Welcome, Lord Ares," she said graciously, extending a dainty hand in greeting.

"I am delighted to have your company for tea this evening."

Ares, his expression stoic yet tinged with uncertainty, returned the gesture with a curt nod.

He shook her hand as gently as he was able to, afraid to somehow hurt her. His hand was much bigger than hers after all and compared to her, he was a god.

"The pleasure is mine, Madame Antoinette," he replied, his voice gruff yet respectful.

"I must admit, tea is not something I am accustomed to, but I am willing to partake.."

As they settled into their seats, Marie Antoinette poured tea for both herself and Ares, her movements graceful and practiced.

Ares, however, found himself struggling with the delicate intricacies of tea etiquette, his fingers fumbling awkwardly with the delicate teacup.

Marie Antoinette let out a small giggle behind her hand as she watched Ares' attempts, finding his earnestness endearing despite his lack of finesse.

"Fear not, Lord Ares," she reassured him, her voice laced with amusement.

"Tea drinking is an art form, but with a bit of guidance, I am certain you will master it in no time."

With patient encouragement, Marie Antoinette guided Ares through the proper technique of holding the teacup, lifting it with elegance, and sipping the tea with refined grace.

Though Ares initially struggled to emulate her poise, he soon found himself growing more accustomed to the ritual, his movements becoming smoother with each attempt.

As they conversed over tea, Marie Antoinette regaled Ares with tales of her life in the royal court of France, her anecdotes punctuated by laughter and animated gestures.

Ares listened intently, his gaze fixed on her with a mixture of admiration and bemusement.

"And what of you, Lord Ares?" Marie Antoinette inquired, her curiosity piqued.

"What tales do you have to share from ancient Greece?"

Ares' expression softened, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"My tales are not ones of refinement and elegance. They're just not suitable for a fair lady such as you," he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of determination in doing the proper thing he thought was best.

Even if it had sparked her curiosity and interest to hear what went out on the battlefield, Marie Antoinette simply just nodded and chuckled in return.

"Whatever you say Ares, if that is what you wish."

Hermes:

Marie Antoinette found herself seated at a beautifully adorned tea table, her porcelain cup filled with delicious warm tea.

Before her stood Hermes, the fleet-footed messenger of the gods, his presence exuding an air of elegance much like her own and efficiency.

Hermes, clad in his customary black suit and carrying a tray laden with delicacies, bowed respectfully before Marie Antoinette.

"Madame Antoinette," he greeted, his voice smooth as silk.

"I have come to attend to your needs as your humble bulter this evening."

Marie Antoinette smiled graciously, her eyes filled with appreciation.

"Oh thank you, Hermes," she replied, her voice soft and filled with a sincere warmth.

"But I would much prefer your company, if you would be so kind."

Hermes hesitated for a moment, unused to be offerd this by someone he saw as a guest to him and the other gods court.

But he found himself unable refuse the request of the gracious lady in front of him.

With a nod of acquiescence, he set down the tray and took a seat opposite Marie Antoinette, his demeanor composed yet curious.

As they began to engage in polite conversation, their words flowing effortlessly between them.

Despite their best efforts to maintain a sense of decorum, a sudden mishap occurred when Marie Antoinette inadvertently knocked over a delicate teacup, causing it to spill it's contents onto the table.

"Pardon me, sir," Marie Antoinette exclaimed, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"I did not do that on purpose!"

Hermes' expression softened with recognition as he realized the significance of her words.

Those were her last words before she was executed.

"No need to apologize, Madame Antoinette," he replied gently, his voice tinged with sympathy as he took out a napkin from his pocket.

"Its okay for even those of high statuses to make mistakes and be a bit clumsy."

Marie Antoinette nodded but quickly grew quiet, her thoughts drifting back to the events of her mortal life, to the past tumultuous moments leading up to her untimely demise.

Yet, despite the weight of her memories haunting her, she found solace in Hermes' understanding gaze, his silent support a balm to her troubled soul.

"I apologize for my words, Madame Antoinette but I'm being truthful." Hermes spoke once more, his eyes filled with compassion.

"I did not mean to cause you so much distress."

"How did you- doesn't matter.."

Marie Antoinette shook her head, offering him a gentle smile. She wasn't sure how Hermes was able to tell something was off about her.

Was it because he was a divine being or because it was so obvious? Either way it didn't matter.

"It is quite all right, Hermes. You haven't..i just had to remember something." she replied, her voice filled with forgiveness.

"In fact, I am grateful for your understanding. You're right, even I can make mistakes."

"Exactly, now let me clean this up for us so we can continue this splendid tea party, hm~"

Jack the ripper:

In the serene gardens of the afterlife, Marie Antoinette sat gracefully at a finely set tea table, her porcelain cup filled with warm tea, her mind lost in contemplation.

Suddenly, she sensed a presence approaching, and to her surprise, Jack the Ripper emerged from the shadows, his demeanor creepy yet strangely intriguing.

Jack, his eyes gleaming with curiosity, bowed respectfully before Marie Antoinette.

"Madame Antoinette," he greeted, his voice a low murmur, "I hope you do not mind if I join you for tea. After all, who am I to resist such a grand offer?"

Marie Antoinette, though taken aback by the unexpected company, of such a known killer gestured graciously for Jack to take a seat.

"Of course, Monsieur Ripper, who am I to dismiss some company!" she replied, her voice composed yet tinged with curiosity.

"I welcome you, unlike most here.." She sighs, recalling how many had been very cold towards him.

Though who were they to blame for having murdered innocent women.

As they settled into their seats, Marie Antoinette and Jack engaged in polite conversations at first, their words dancing between until it slowly took a deep turn.

Jack, ever the enigma, shared tales of his past, his voice tinged with a mixture of remorse and defiance.

Marie Antoinette listened intently, her heart heavy with empathy for the man shrouded in darkness.

Yet she still had to think about his poor victims and how it could've all been avoided if Jack's mother hadn't snapped, same went for the bearded man himself.

"And what of you, Madame Antoinette?" Jack inquired, his gaze piercing yet strangely gentle.

"How did you find yourself in the halls of the afterlife?"

Marie Antoinette's expression softened as she recounted the events of her mortal life, from her rise as the Queen of France to her tragic demise at the hands of the revolutionaries.

She usually wouldn't have shared such memories with someone, for it haunted her so deeply til this day.

But knowing Jack hadn't been any better than her when he was alive, she felt like she could speak of the trials and tribulations she faced, her voice filled with hidden sorrow.

As their conversation delved deeper into the intricacies of their pasts, Marie Antoinette and Jack found themselves bound by a shared understanding of the burdens they bore.

Even with the vast chasm that separated them in life, they discovered a common thread of humanity that transcended the boundaries of time and circumstance.

Suddenly, amidst their conversation, a faint sound echoed through the garden, the pitter-patter of tiny footsteps.

Marie Antoinette's heart skipped a beat as she turned to see her beloved child, running towards her with arms outstretched.

"Mama!" the child cried, tears streaming down their cheeks, seeking solace in their mother's embrace.

Marie Antoinette's eyes brimmed with tears as she enveloped her child in a warm embrace, her heart overflowing with love for her youngling.

"Oh darling what are you doing here?!"

As she glanced up at Jack, she saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes, a glimpse of the vulnerability that lurked beneath his hardened exterior.

Jack watched the tender scene unfold before him, a bittersweet smile playing upon his lips. In that moment, he saw himself reflected in the child's tears, a lost soul seeking comfort in the arms of their mother.

"Well aren't they a adorable little one~"

[agnikaii]

starter para: @chloewcldron

local: sorveteria frozen flavors

Aquelas memórias estranhas não paravam de aparecer na sua mente. Soluço chegou a sair de fininho da cama, sem acordar Astrid, só para ter um pouco de elucidação com relação àquilo, pois, na situação em que se encontrava, estava tão confuso que chegava a ficar paranoico. Então, seus passos lhe levaram até a Frozen Flavors, como pensado prontamente, e Soluço não era de descumprir com sua palavra quando toda vez que saía do Santuário, dizia a Banguela que traria o doce preferido dele. Em seguida, o pedido de sempre: "Vou querer de caramelo encantado e pinha dos picos nevoentos. Esse último, pode botar no pote grande para viagem, pode ser?" Averiguou a resposta e, depois, sorriu em afirmação. Foi questão de segundos até que ele virasse o rosto e percebesse ali a presença de uma das quatro pessoas com quem sonhava com frequência. Chegava a ser ainda mais estranho vê-la ali, mas, claro, não conseguia ficar calado com relação àquilo. Eram muitas coisas acontecendo ao mesmo tempo, com certeza não seria tão incômodo assim buscar por respostas, por mais que imaginasse que ela sabia muito menos que ele. "Oi?" Se aproximou dela discretamente. Não a tocou e muito menos invadiu seu espaço além do limite, apenas falou um pouco mais alto e acenou para que fosse visto. "Você... é Tíbia? Ou, melhor dizendo, você deveria ser a Tíbia. Ainda não é nada concreto, mas sonho frequentemente com seu rosto, chega a ser bizarro."

[displacedbias]

( @ozzyandfriends : gala interaction )

Ron walks over to RS!Alice, His Ozzy and Madison trailing behind.

RON: Hey! You kind of look like my friend, are you.. Alice, by any chance?

[Alice]: Chance is but a thread in the tapestry of those who weave it. If one gazes upon a reflection, harken to the visage thine eyes lain upon, for that which you seek is ground in still water. My name is my own, and yours I should know. Who but a reflection to know such unknown?

[giselle-archive]

@steviebevans-wmu: How did you get banned from Pappadeaux??

So that's the lie, sorta. It wasn't every one in Houston, just the Galleria location (which was my favorite one). I unintentionally started a fight in there that got out of hand, so the manager said I can never come back. Fuck that guy.

[yes7erdays]

❛⠀ that’s not — don’t make that face! i’m immune, so go try that look on someone else, miss smith,⠀ ❜⠀ she says, adjusting the lapels of her rumpled trench coat. her students show up to class more put together than this, but it is not like she had any time for niceties, not with the entire pub shouting and hollering when the judge disqualified her from the game.⠀ ❛⠀ his answer was wrong! and so is wikipedia, by the way. pulling up wikipedia as a source... of all the stupid things i've heard today, that got the cake!⠀ ❜

starter call. I @chloevlinder

[harpersoath]

❛  there’s a big diference between mostly dead and all dead.  ❜ from @accultant

"any amount of dead is not good."

neyvin gives iago a look that is both concerned and mildly chastising.

a small sigh, "but at least you are now mostly alive." he leans down, brushing the last of the gore bits from him. "your remind me of a cat." he said as he does so. "curious, and with nine lives."

[unbrcxkxble]

𝙾𝙿𝙴𝙽 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁! ⸻ na frente do complexo.

Fazia pouco mais de três horas que havia chegado em Haneul. Não que Nate tivesse o costume de contar o tempo, mas considerava lugares desconhecidos estressantes, ainda mais aquele que era tão significativo emocionalmente. Assim que seu corpo reduziu a velocidade da corrida até encontrar-se totalmente imóvel, inclinou-se para frente, pousando ambas as mãos nos próprios joelhos enquanto tentava recuperar o fôlego, não demorando-se muito naquela posição ao que rapidamente prendeu a gola da camiseta entre os dedos longos que trataram de puxar o tecido com certo desespero devido a sensação de desconforto que surgiu ao senti-lo grudar na pele suada, despreocupando-se com as cicatrizes de seu tronco e costas que não seriam tão aparentes durante o breu parcial do local. Embora sua dupla nacionalidade fosse constatada em seus documentos, Nathan não possuía o comportamento polido geralmente usual daquele país e não tinha a mínima intenção de fingi-lo, mesmo que tivesse plena noção de que aquilo não somente perturbava algumas pessoas, mas era visto como inadequado pela maioria delas. Porém, rapidamente a postura desleixada tornou-se tensa e os olhos se focaram na silhueta que se aproximava, tentando, de alguma forma, identificá-la em meio a pouca iluminação do complexo.