#( no need to match length )
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Starter for @inn0cencestrained
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It's only been three seconds since Nick stood up from the box he had buried and yet, already, the anxiety had caused him to snap. His fingers, still dirtied with the crumbly soil of the crossroads curled into his palms, a shaken breath escaping him. The man tried his best to release tension from his shoulders, rolling them for a split second before he grabbed at his own head between his hands.
"Where the fuck are you?!" He shrieked, the desperation breaking his voice. "You useless -"
"Watch your tone, empty vessel."
Nick ignored the insult. Not that he really saw it as an insult, it was a truth that he was oh so painfully aware of. The aching emptiness inside him, a hole shaped like his beloved celestial body-snatched. His fingers shifted from the short hairs on his temples to his chest, then to his biceps. Hugging himself subconsciously as he stepped towards the demonic entity shaped like a fragile young man, his gaze predatory as his eyes narrowed and took in the demon's form.
A head shorter than him, and at least twenty pounds lighter. Nick's mind already played around the many ways in which he could've broken this man if it weren't for the red-eyed abomination inhabiting his body. He was aware, of just how frail he was in that moment, yet Nick was unafraid. It was the demon who took a step back despite the hissed-out warning.
"You're like an addict, you know that? You can't keep summoning me every time you get left alone for a couple hours. Sorry, big guy. I can't help you find him." The red-eyed demon shook his head. Giving Nick an apologetic yet amused smile.
"What's the damn point in you? What's the point of being a soul-fetcher with localizing skills if you can't ring up your own boss!"
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open: any (selective with males) connection/plot: our muses (married, serious partners, or similar) are trying to reconnect by taking a bath together after things have been difficult due to Kirby's accident and injury. Kirby has been a complete pain in the ass to deal with but still cares about her partner. (can change muse to Jackie upon request)
Kirby hated it. The stupid fucking accident had stolen her career, any ability to walk normal again, and on far too many days what felt like her relationship as well. It wasn’t their fault. Kirby could see every day how hard they tried to be there for her. they just couldn't give her her old life back. Too many surgeries, steel pins, and grafted muscles - none of it had been enough to give her back the mobility she’d had before the drunk driver. As often as she tried joke about how now she should just skip leg day forever, it didn’t help how she felt completely foreign in her own body. Mangled looking scars trailed from her ankle past her knee, the time in the hospital stealing any other muscles that weren’t taken in the accident. Kirby had been that girl at the gym. Confident, hot, toned in her sports bra to show off her body. And now she was none of that. She winced as she heard the bath running behind her, something her therapist had suggested to help work on rebuilding their intimacy. She had her palms pressed flush on the bathroom counter to hold herself up, back to her partner. The least she could do was not drag them down into the pit that was her self-loathing. “Give me a minute, okay,” she said knowing they were ready for her. “I need to get my brace off.” She could have asked them to do it. Kirby was confident they would have appreciated the chance to help, but Kirby was stubborn and part of her thought if she did it herself then maybe she was just a little less broken.
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@sillyjokes liked for a starter!
Home sweet Arkham Intensive Treatment Ward.
Why couldn't he have been put in a cell next to Croc, or Riddler, or anyone he could actually stand to be around? Not that he had a choice when it came to Intensive Care.
Intensive Care meant you fucked up. Inmates here were considered a danger to themselves and others, and therefore it was justified to keep them separated in little rooms with tiny slots to the outside world through which food and water eventually got pushed.
There was no real lighting other than what was available from outside those doors, so lights out meant total darkness aside from security shining a flashlight in once in a while. It didn't matter, mostly because the rooms were designed with security in mind. No shelves, no books, no bare walls or edges.
Even the scant plumbing was taped over with foam, and bolted securely to the wall.
You were on your fucking own in here, and everyone knew that.
Including Harvey Dent.
Still, Joker's voice was unmistakable. He was here too, was he?
Fantastic.
"We'd ask what you're in for, but something tells us we don't want to know."
Harvey's head thumped against the padding on the wall, just enough to sound exasperated.
He regretted that he wasn't permitted earplugs.
#no need to match length#sillyjokes#well harv can't physically hurt him now and he sure isn't happy about it
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@chamxmuse location: charity hospital closed
The cured human's mind had been completely and utterly scrambled in the past few days. With everything that was going on in town, the raising of the dead and the supernatural deaths, she felt like reality was spinning out of control. And of course, there was Summer, who had, of course, been on her mind non-stop for the past year, but even more so these days.
Sometimes, it even felt as if she saw her lost daughter. Just out of the corner of her eye, or quickly there and gone. Was it too much to hope that she'd be brought back with the rest? It was a hope she tried not to cling to, for her own sanity and Damon's.
Elena had scrubbed into surgery, was just about to start when she saw a familiar figure pass by the viewing window. Everything around her stopped, came to a slow crawl as she saw her deceased daughter disappear from view again. But this was... so different than all the other times. She was there, Elena knew it.
"Dr. Gilbert?" the other surgeon asked her, "Everything okay?" How could she explain this to these people. They knew nothing of the supernatural, nothing of what she had been through. She'd just started, they didn't even know that she'd lost Summer the previous year.
She tried to get the words out I'm sorry, excuse me, but nothing came out. Instead, she departed without a word, quickly taking off her gloves and scrubs in the attached room before walking (and then nearly running) down the hall to find her precious Summer.
#elena & summer#no need to match length#sorry went a lil overboard haha#plot drop: 001#* . ⊹ 𝔼.𝔾. › ft. summer
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location: devani's chambers, towards the start of the upcoming fighting with new valyria
@devanitoland
something was wrong. doran could feel it—a subtle yet persistent feeling gnawing at the edges of his thoughts. it had been there for some time now, an elusive sense that things were not as they seemed, but he couldn’t quite grasp what it was. call it intuition, or perhaps a finely crafted instinct from years of navigating courtly deceptions. people were hiding things from him. of that, he was certain. but doran was a man of patience, a man who understood the delicate balance between waiting and acting. he knew how to bide his time, how to let his cards rest hidden until the exact moment they needed to be played. he could wait as long as it took to get the truth.
and so, he had waited. he let his web of informants and spies scuttle about, gathering the small, scattered pieces of knowledge he required. he trusted they would eventually bring him what he needed to know, even if it meant drawing it out piece by painstaking piece.
but this… this was unexpected.
he found himself sitting alone in the chambers of devani toland, a woman he had long ago told himself to forget about. she was meant to be a closed chapter after his nephew, one he was better off leaving behind. and yet, here he was, waiting for her return as if he had any right to be here, like an old ghost haunting her private space. a glass of dornish red sat on the table beside him, the deep ruby liquid catching the flickering candlelight as he swirled it absently, letting the wine stain the glass in slow, dark trails.
footsteps sounded in the corridor outside, drawing closer. doran remained seated, his gaze steady, his expression unreadable. he didn’t rise to announce himself or even attempt to conceal his presence. his very being here was message enough.a subtle assertion of his authority, an unspoken reminder of his reach.
the door opened, and he watched her step inside. doran met her gaze, lifting his glass in a casual acknowledgment, his dark eyes glinting with an unreadable intensity.
“evening, devani” he said smoothly, his voice as calm as if this were a planned encounter. he took a slow sip of the wine, letting the silence stretch between them. “i think we need to talk.”
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Open || Independence Day Carnival
Ever since summer had begun, Tallulah had been very skeptical about this whole independence thing. It had absolutely nothing to do with the Independence Day Carnival itself —the one that she had been tirelessly helping to plan— and everything to do with giving her almost teenage daughter her own small taste of independence while at the event. After much begging and a highly organized PowerPoint presentation complete with bullet points and pie charts, Tallulah had allowed Miranda to roam the carnival with just her friends, a 10PM curfew, and periodic text check-ins that were not to be missed.
Of course, Tallulah would still be in attendance as well. She had volunteered to work the event, and was doing just that, weaving in and out of the crowd selling 50/50 tickets. Just as she finished off a sale, Tallulah caught sight of her daughter near the Ferris Wheel making googly eyes at some kid Tallulah automatically assumed was trouble. It took everything in the former beauty queen not to not march right up to the little punk and break up their little love fest. Instead, she opted to play it more stealth and darted behind the cotton candy stand for a better vantage point, peeking out slightly to monitor the situation not realizing that someone else had been monitoring her too.
Caught red handed, Tallulah heard someone call out her name. She turned around slowly greeting the looming presence with her million dollar smile in an attempt to conceal her blatant spying. She held up the tickets as a decoy ignoring the obvious and asked sweetly, “How about a 50/50? It's for a great cause."
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plotted with @malka-lisitsa
elijah had grown very fond of katherine, or rather katerina now that he knows her actual name, over the past few months. neutrally explained. it was very rare that he developed a deeper interest in a human, and he knew it was better to stay away. humans and vampires were never a good combination, yet they seemed to meet by chance. admittedly, sometimes he had also set it out to appear at the place he knew she was working at, but sometimes she, too, seemed to cross his path.
katerina was a special person, she had something indescribable about her that attracted him. therefore he had seen with great concern that she had obvious injuries the previous day; bruises which she tried to hide under makeup. in her movements that suggested pain. he had never addressed it directly and the answers to his indirect questions were usually formulated in such a way that he knew she did not want any further inquiries. but now he was sure that there was indeed someone who caused her pain. something that made him incredibly angry (raging mad, even), but since she wouldn’t drop any names, he couldn’t let this person pay.
he had offered to take the pain away and heal her, and she had agreed, although she probably thought it was a joke on his part. that it was actually his blood that had the desired effect was unknown to her as he had cleverly hidden it by giving her a drink.
the events of the previous day had led him to want to see her urgently today, which is why he drove to her address. he knew it because she had already invited him to her apartment once. he rang the bell, but no one opened the main door, which was not an obstacle, as he found someone else to open the door. when he finally stood in front of her apartment door, however, he smelled something that shouldn't be as prominent: blood.
elijah knocked on her door. "katerina?" there was no reaction, so he looked around briefly and then opened the door with a deliberate blow.
what he found was horrifying, she lay not far from the door in her own, already dried blood on the ground.
"katerina!? katherine?!" immediately he hurried to her and kneeled beside her on the ground, his gaze searching where all the blood came from while at the same time trying to feel a pulse, although he could not hear a heartbeat and her gaze was fixed, empty, and immobile. he knew what this meant, but he didn’t want to accept it. she couldn't be dead. she shouldn't be dead. he couldn't have lost her.
but ... was it even possible for her to be dead? there were a thousand thoughts on his mind, also calculating when he had given her his blood the day before.
his gaze finally hung on a dark crusty spot on her dark top, which was slightly raised and shimmered metallic when looked closely. immediately he brushed his fingers carefully over the spot and could then actually grab a bullet that should not be at this place (even if it shouldn't be there at all). her body seemed to have expelled it, which was a sign that she'd wake up again.
elijah released a breath, before closing his eyes and trying to focus which wasn't as easy because between the initial scare he had and the wrath he felt, he also knew that she wouldn't awake as she was before. if she were to awake, then she would be in transition.
he opened his eyes and then rested his hand softly against her cheek. "you won't be hurt again. and you'll be avenged." he does not know who did this but he'll find out. elijah lifted her into his arms and carried her to the room which he suspected was her bedroom, to lay her on her bed. she shouldn’t have to wake up on the floor. he left the bedroom door open to hear any possible change or movement before returning to the scene and started cleaning it – more a distraction to himself, because besides his concern for her, there was also this incredible anger and vindictiveness. only when the floor was perfectly clean, he went back and stood at the bedroom door to give her the necessary space when she wakes up.
#no need to match length#i rambled#malka lisitsa#katherine#⚜ i’m a special vampire ▬ in character#closed starter
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who: @jaehaerysiitargaryen when: aenogaia qoherys has a worrying vision
The room she found herself in was shrouded in darkness.
It was large, by the sounds she could make out in the distance, even if it was far too dark for her eyes to even adjust to any shapes or silhouettes.
Her arms spread out, slowly rising to her sides and slightly to her front, fingers splaying, trying to see if she could reach anything at all of her surroundings. Her breath sounded shallow in her ears. The hissing in the distance was louder.
Gaia put one foot in front of the other, slowly but steadily. She walked for what felt like ages, seconds, minutes and hours passing around her as she trudged through impenetrable darkness.
Until there was a small light ahead.
It gave the hall she was in some shape the closer she got, steps growing bolder. There was no beginning or and in sight to the great hall, and there was nothing around her; except for stone paved flooring and a statue up ahead. Her head tipped back into her neck as she looked up at the carved structure. At the top, she recognized a seven pointed star, the glow it emitted looking eery. Sickly light, somehow, as though it held equal amounts of shadows within its shine.
There was another hiss somewhere to her front. Gaia glanced down. The pedestal was beginning to be overgrown. Branches inching up the stone slowly, thorny wood reaching towards the star. She felt a breath hitch in her throat when something sharp brushed by her ankles and she stumbled back to bypass even more thorns slithering ahead. The growth was slow and Gaia watched intently, and as she watched, she saw movement in-between the thicket. Lithe, long bodies slithering through, unperturbed by the sharp edges all around.
It grew and grew, as did the amount of snakes, hissing as they moved upwards and upwards. And suddenly, the ground underneath gave way with a loud crumbling sound and the pedestal collapsed, the star tilted to the side, dangerously close to snapping off its hold and falling. The thorns began to claw their way up the statue, no longer slow and almost subdued. There was nothing but harshness there now, insistent in the way the structure of the star continued to disappear behind thick branches.
The head of a snake peaked out of the thicket, staring right at her. What caught her attention most were its striking blue eyes, staring into her as though it knew she did not belong in this realm. The forked tongue flickered out as it slithered its body out of the thick, its scales seemingly immune to the thorns scraping against them.
Their eye contact held for several moments. Then, the snake lunged at her with a resounding hiss.
Gaia woke with a gasp. It took her barely any time to jump out of bed, dress herself as best as she could manage before she walked swiftly from her own quarters. Aenogaia breezed through the hallways until she made it to the King's quarters. His guards were posted outside. That was all the sign she needed that Jaehaerys Targaryen was there. It was early, still, it seemed. "I need to speak with the King," she spoke, words steady and firm. Surprisingly, she thought. Gaia felt rattled from this dream. Drained, even though she had just rested for several hours.
#jaehaerys 002#king's landing; the red keep#no need to match length#i had to set that one up lmao#lmk if anything needs changing!
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@reverdies [continued]
-- " i'm sorry for intruding. " They're more afraid of you than you are of them. The inner voice, usually represented by gargoyles he imagined could speak to him, remained formless when risking an audience. Somehow though the inner voice's message wasn't nearly as reassuring as he was accustomed to. He didn't want to know fear from any angle. Her apologetic look said it all even if he had missed her words. In spite of the intrusion on his very home, with only himself for stakes Quasimodo wasn't inclined to fight. Hands wringing like butterflies clinging to a twig, he did his best to shrink into himself, knowing the usual reaction to expect and still half believing it to be justified. His gaze fled everywhere but the figure before him. "I-it's alright," he assured her instead of asking for reassurance himself. "The bells don't get many visitors."
-
Like a bird that fled its cage & landed in the arbor, Priscilla sought sanctuary within Notre Dame. Thoughts of her present predicament and exhaustion from her flight would continue on the morrow. For now her steps aimlessly wandered, through and up the Cathedral somehow finding her way to the bell tower.
She was only human. She couldn’t help but stare longer than she should have. And as her eyes fled momentarily from the bell-ringer to the bells to fixate, she inwardly berated herself. In a world devoid of compassion, she knew better than to judge books from covers, to at least try seeing people from their own eyes and not only her own. She took a soft deep breath, searching, perhaps for strength, sympathy, or something she couldn't quite name. Somehow too her concerns of earlier did not feel as burdensome as they did before.
“I see. I… had no idea anyone would be up here…” she curiously glanced around, “or…lived here.” — a beat. was she that intimidating? A delicate little English wildflower?
“Oh! By the way…” politely trying to lighten the tone, “I’m Priscilla.” she offered a smile, with that certain warm glow to her that wasn’t just how the light caught on her gold curls. “If the bells … and yourself … wouldn’t mind a visitor today — may I come in?”
#reverdies#reverdies : quasimodo#v: diamond in the rough#going with this verse cuz the potential parallels are too good to not explore asdfghjkl#cinderella vibes#I got a little carried away#haha but it's mostly exposition so#no need to match length#👍#I'm excited!
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Status: Open
Location: The Reef
@aurorabaystarter
As soon as the invite head reached Jameson, he knew he should’ve turned it down. He wasn’t the type to go out drinking anymore or ever; considering he’d gone to prison before he was even legally allowed to drink in public, but when someone from work mentioned going out, he felt like he needed to get more out of his shell. However, considering the fact that he was currently sitting outside of the bar and holding ice to his eye, this may have been a bad idea.
He winced again as he held the cold against his face before letting out a sigh. He wasn’t sure how it started, but he knew how it ended when someone accused him of being a murderer and threw punches his way. As much as he was trying to deny it, Jameson knew deep down that people rarely forgot the past in a small town. He knew that as soon as he would get comfortable, someone would throw his past right into his face. The whole night was looking a bad idea and he only had himself to blame. Jameson heard someone sit next to him and he glanced over wincing slightly as he moved his gaze over to them. “ I promise I’m fine. their punches were pretty week anyway. Aside from this one “ he added gesturing to his eye.
#aurorabay.starter#he was getting too comfortable i had to ruin his day#tw: violence#tw: murder mention#no need to match length
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open to: ladieees (the woman alex was once engaged to) connection: after a broken engagement and years at war, alex finds himself face-to-face with y/m, who was once supposed to be his future wife. duty pushed him to join the war despite her pleas to stay with her, so naturally, everything went to hell. now a couple of weeks after he's returned from war, his younger brother throws a family dinner, for his family to finally meet his future wife. and surprise, surprise, it's y/m m: lord alexander blackwood ; 30+ yrs olds ; nobleman & former military for the crown ; bio
alex stood on the front steps of blackwood estate, gazing out over the sprawling countryside of yorkshire. the winds were cooler here, less stifling than the heat he had known on the front lines, but the tension in his chest was no less oppressive. he had returned from war a couple of weeks ago, battered and bruised—not just in body, but in soul. the invitation to dinner at his family’s estate seemed like a lifeline at the time. his brother had written him, brimming with excitement about introducing the family to his future wife. but now, as alex stood in front of the grand entrance, hands buried deep in the pockets of his coat, he felt an unease that had nothing to do with the cold wind sweeping across the estate grounds. he took a deep breath and entered, the familiar grandeur of blackwood’s high ceilings and polished floors offering little comfort. the grand dining hall loomed ahead, a fire already crackling in the massive hearth. the long oak table was set, silverware gleaming under the chandelier’s light. their mother fussed over the final touches, rearranging vases of flowers as though they hadn’t been set just perfectly by the servants hours ago.
"alex, dear, you're early," she said, giving him a warm smile as he entered.
he nodded, forcing a smile. "i thought i’d have a drink before everyone arrives."
"good idea," she said, smoothing her apron before disappearing through one of the side doors.
the estate felt both comforting and alien after years away. everything was just as he had left it—familiar and untouched by the passing time. everything except for him. war had made sure of that. pouring himself a drink from the sideboard, alex leaned against the stone mantel, staring into the fire. he hadn’t seen his brother since before he had left for war. they had exchanged letters, of course, but words on paper didn’t fully capture how much time had passed or how much had changed. his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the large front doors opening, his brother’s booming voice echoing through the halls. alex’s heartbeat quickened. he straightened, setting his glass down just as the footman entered to announce the new arrivals. his brother entered first, as expected—bright-eyed, grinning from ear to ear. there was no mistaking his enthusiasm. the war had hardly touched him, and in moments like this, alex envied that naivety, that sense of life still being easy and bright.
and then... she entered.
alex froze, every muscle tensing as though he’d been hit by a blast. time seemed to slow, and the noise of the room—the laughter, the clatter of dishes—faded into a distant hum. the woman on his brother's arm was her. the woman he once loved. the woman he was supposed to marry before the war.
#indie rp#independent rp#indie smut rp#indie oc rp#indie period rp#opens#m: lord alexander blackwood#no need to match length#pls
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Closed Starter: @themissing-linc outside Linc's window :P
There were plenty of places Dante could be at the moment, but instead of heeding all those warnings his better judgement tried to sell him, the musician stood outside with his guitar in hand. Ready to sing his way back into good graces with Lincoln, whether it worked or not. Dante wasn't stupid. He knew things weren't going to be that easy, but he wanted to show the other man that no amount of ignoring him was going to stop Dante from trying. Yes, he'd been stupid and clueless, and eventually became an ass without even realizing it, but he was trying to make amends as best as he could. Lincoln hadn't entirely dismissed the idea of him and Dante coming together the last time they spoke. In fact, if Dante remembered correctly he said I'll think about it. Certainly it's been enough time to think about it by now, right? Dante didn't bother to question himself anymore and began to run his fingers through his guitar. The familiar chords of The Past Recedes cutting through the silence of the night and hopefully making their way through Lincoln's slumber. Hear me it called and then Dante's voiced joined the plead. He ensured to pick the perfect song, knowing how much it meant for both of them since before the band even came together. Back when it was just the two of them talking about their dreams, and the places that they would go. When they played pretend in each other's room and performed like the whole world was watching. That's when Dante truly saw how special Lincoln was and just how bad he wanted to be in his life. There was no describing the fondness that formed over his heart.
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@pompedia Burns Brightly [!] As much as Nathanaël wished to fight alongside Ladybug and Chat Noir, he didn’t feel he was ready yet. Still a new holder as Phénix Argent, he felt he needed more time to perfect himself before approaching them. If they found an akuma first, he wouldn’t interfere. However, if he discovered one first, he’d quickly subdue them, capturing them within his Blazing Bite and let Ladybug purify the demon. He made sure to stay out of sight each time they arrived and breathed easier once she fixed everything. As this happened a few times already, when he came across a new villain, he became faster at finding safe spots to transform and more efficient in rendering the threat useless.
Using his power, flames acted like a cage, immobilizing the afflicted. “Don’t bother moving.” Only as Phénix, did the usually shy man spoke with such stern authority. The akuma still struggled against the fiery retrains but was no going anywhere. “Ladybug will be here any moment and this will all be over for you.” He caught a faintest sound of something touching the ground behind but he paid no mind. The bird turned to go into hiding as routine but stopped upon seeing none other than the heroine herself. She have never gotten to the scene so soon before! He wasn’t ready to meet her yet! Panic set in as he froze, clearly surprise. [!]
#pompedia#V [!] Sketching with Fire#And yes I moved blogs#Hope this works!#No need to match length#I like setting the scene
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rise and shine - open
Jade had walked over to the coffee shop like she had just every other morning, with her notebook in hand. This time it was a little bit different because there had been a shift in the story. One of the things that made her previous books so successful was her point of view. It was practically expected of her to write from the eyes of the killer, but the past stories had always had some sort of fantasy element. This one might not.
She'd talked to Kyle about the fact that she was thinking about starting the story with someone poisoning the water in the bobbing for apple game, and the more she wrote it the more she liked it. Suddenly she felt eyes on her, someone who needed a seat while the coffee shop was full. So she shut the book quickly and brought her eyes up to there. "That chair is free."
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event: flower festival where: main street who: roman forest ( @endlessreruns )
Lucy had been avoiding Roman since he'd rejected their drunken kiss the other night. He'd been gracious about it, but she still felt mortified about it. That combined with the fact that he'd basically told her to stop liking him, had left her feeling out of sorts. She didn't know how to stop feeling something. That was kind of her whole problem with, well, everything.
But when she saw him walking down the street next to a blonde someone she didn't recognize, Lucy decided not to turn and run and hide. He might not think she should like him, but he was nice to them, seemed to care about them, and Lucy didn't have many people around her age that did.
Hesitating, she made her way over to the two of them, pausing before reaching into her bag and pulling out a slightly crushed flower crown that they'd made earlier at one of the booths, on the off-chance she had the courage to approach him.
"I made this," she said, holding it out to him. It was made of dark purple and dark red flowers.
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open to anyone
(plot: kinda based on x, any type of single parent works or maybe gael is the babydaddy but it was like a fling situation and they had a kid and he wants to be involved idk)
Muse: Gael Lucio, Mid to Late 30s
The man had a soft spot for children. Which may be a shock to some being that he hadn't really led a gentle life where he had been around them much, but Gael was always a great uncle to the little ones in his family when he was able to be present - more so now that he'd put some distance between himself and gang life. He was ever eager to hold a new baby at gatherings and despite his gruff appearance that warned off most adults they always seemed to love him too. His mother would say it's because they could tell they'd never be in safer arms.
So there he was on the couch after having quickly settled the wailing child -- softly singing them a little nursery rhyme "~La linda manita que tiene el bebé, qué linda, qué bella, qué preciosa es~" and pretended to nibble on their little fingers before he noticed the other watching them "What, you surprised I'm good with kids?"
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